2017 March

Grieving Together

Posted by | death, family life, Grief, kids, rest, self-care, Stories, Struggle/Hardship, transitions, Uncategorized | No Comments

 

Just in the nick of time, I dropped off my older two daughters at elementary school before they were tardy, and then continued on to my youngest daughter’s preschool. Green, yellow…slow red. Green, yellow…slow red. I followed the rhythm of the stop lights as my 5-year-old sang at the top of her lungs in the backseat. I smiled as I listened to another one of her off-tune, made-up songs.

Then I leaned in to hear some of her lyrics: “My daddy is in heaven. His leg was hurt. We need to pray for him. He’s with God,” she chirped. “I miss my dadddddddy.”

“What are you singing about, baby?” I asked her, trying to be nonchalant. It had been several months since she mentioned her daddy, who died from cancer two and a half years earlier. We pulled into the preschool parking lot. I reminded myself not to panic but to let her process.

“I’m singing about my daddy in Heaven,” she informed me.

“You know, he has a new body in Heaven now,” I said gently. “He doesn’t have that big tumor on his leg anymore.” Her face lit up with a smile, “Really?! I can’t wait to see him again.”

These conversations have become normal life for us now. Never in a million years did I imagine I would be helping my children navigate the death of their father at such a young age. If you would have asked me a half dozen years ago, I would have told you that skill just wasn’t in my wheelhouse. Then again, isn’t mothering about rising daily to learn new skills and praying regularly for God to cover our shortcomings?

{For the rest of this article, click over here to Kindred Mom. I am so honored to be a featured writer on their site today.}

 

 

**If you would like to read more about my grief journey, check out these articles.

**I send out a weekly word of encouragement with recommendations, recipes and more. Join me for Glorygrams here.

Personal Sabbath: How training for a marathon taught me to rest

Posted by | fierce flourishing, finishing well, Grief, running, Stories, Uncategorized | 2 Comments

 

I grew up in a house where we were constantly on the go. When I was in elementary school, my evenings were filled with piano lessons, soccer games, ballet and jazz dance classes, church youth group and more. As I entered junior high and high school, I added activities like newspaper, yearbook, Track & Field, and voice lessons. While I enjoyed all these activities, I remember we were always running, always pushing deadlines, always melting into bed at night exhausted. I am grateful for the many amazing opportunities my parents gave me but sometimes I wonder if it also was an inadvertent training to always chase busyness.

Rest is the way we detox from the busyness. If we have gone through a season of pruning, it may take some time to recalibrate. I found this to be true last summer after I pruned some big branches from my life. I felt like God was calling me to make space for some new goals. I stepped down from my position teaching at the university and leading the large moms group at my church. I said no to a bunch of invitations and new commitments. It was difficult to let go of these things that had become so much a part of my identity. I knew I needed rest and time to refocus.

At first, I didn’t know how to rest. I felt anxious and uncomfortable with the extra time in my schedule. I felt guilty for taking time to myself instead of working, serving or being with my family.

Then I learned a new rhythm of rest in an unexpected way. I signed up to run a marathon. I know what you’re thinking: running 26.2 miles is not resting. That’s mostly true.

I put together a training schedule with the help of my hubby-coach, who is also an endurance athlete. As I ran, I talked to God. I discovered the runs afforded me the time and space to grieve my losses and all I had pruned from my life. The miles were hard but they became a precious time of connecting with my Father. They were like a scheduled Daddy date.

I had one problem. I was training in the summer months in Fresno, California. The average daytime temperatures were in the triple digits. I don’t do well exercising when it’s that hot. I quickly discovered if I wanted to beat the heat, I had to wake up early!

Let’s just be clear: I am by nature a night owl.

In different seasons, I have trained myself to wake up early but I always feel like a night owl masquerading as an early bird. It’s not pretty.

The bonus: running taught me to rest. That combination of waking up early and running long miles left me naturally exhausted by the afternoon. I had to build naptime into my day or I would be a crabby mess by dinner time. (For those of you who have toddlers, you know exactly what I’m talking about).

My husband encouraged me that the rest was just as important as the runs because my body needed to recover. He explained that when we do a hard workout we are breaking down muscle. When we rest, the body has time to rebuild on a cellular level and the muscles are built up even stronger than before.

I started a resting hour with my kids (ages 4, 7 and 10 at the time). They were allowed to read books, color or sleep. The house was quiet. Mommy had permission to nap. When my husband got home from work, he would ask me about my day. He congratulated me when I told him I had napped. The first time he praised me for resting something inside me was surprised – even shocked. When my girls were younger, rest was so often sabotaged by one of them needing something. I often gave up. He was helping me retrain my brain and body to embrace the benefits of rest.

One of my favorite verses is Psalm 46:10: “Be still and know that I am God.” Those words have also challenged my attitude about rest. The command is to actually “be still” with our bodies and our minds. My husband coached me that even just laying down and not moving can be a resting state.

At first when I tried to nap, my mind would race all over the place. I would craft to-do lists in my head. I would worry about things. I had to return to the words of Psalm 46:10 and get in the habit of being still – both body and mind.

In her devotional, Flourish, Margaret Feinberg writes, “In resisting busyness, we can once again restake our claim as wholly loved by God and flourish in the joy of being his children. This frees us from the bondage of overproduction and liberates us; our hearts lie fallow to receive God’s goodness and grace.”

I challenge you to think about some ways you can resist busyness. What can you release from your schedule for this next season to make space for rest? Before you say yes to the next commitment, what can you say no to graciously?

We are led to believe: time is money; those who multitask best are the most productive; and there is no time for rest. The Bible tells us just the opposite. In Matthew 11:28-30, Jesus leans in and shares these words with the crowd: “Come to me, all of you who are weary and carry heavy burdens, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you. Let me teach you, because I am humble and gentle at heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy to bear, and the burden I give you is light.”

God is calling each one of us into sweet Sabbath rest. It’s the only way we will make it to the finish line without crashing and burning. Rest might look different for you than it does for me. You will need to work it out in your attitude, your schedule and your family context, but I do know that it involves turning down the noise around us and entering into His presence.  I invite you to a place of rest this week so you can abide in the Vine. Rest is a gift from a Good Father who longs to see us flourish.

 

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**Check out more posts on the theme of “flourishing” right here.

Image credit: Captivating Sports Photos

Book Review: You Are Free to Be Who You Already Are

Posted by | Behold, Book reviews, community, Grief, Identity, Personal Stories, Stories, Struggle/Hardship, transitions | No Comments

I have dreamed about traveling to Italy since I was a little girl. I never imagined that I would get to experience the Sistine Chapel, run around the Colosseum, walk the steps of Trevi Fountain, and stand awestruck before the statue of David at age 38 with a new husband. I never imagined I would get to share handcrafted raviolis and tiramisu we made together in a cooking class.

I remember sitting on a train careening across the country en route from Rome to Florence. My eyes were glued to the window. The landscape was changing right before me. In a few hours, we traversed from the big city bustle to a more serene countryside with rolling hills.

On that train, God spoke to me about something more important than all the breathtaking sites and delectable food.  After so many months of deep grief following my husband’s death, after so many restless nights of crying out to Him and wondering what the future would hold for my daughters and me, God was changing the landscape. He gave me a wide-angle view of His glory.

The words of this verse breathed over me so many times in the last few years came to life: “Behold, I am doing a new thing; now it springs forth, do you not perceive it? I will make a way in the wilderness and rivers in the desert” (Isaiah 43:19).

He had made a way. He was reminding me that I was free.

On that trip, God reminded me who I was at my very core, who He created me to be. He began rekindling some of my passions and dreams. He was giving me permission to trade my mourning for dancing, to step into a new marriage, a new family life, a new season that I was free to create.

When I first saw the title of Rebekah Lyons’ new book, You Are Free: Be Who You Already Are, I couldn’t help thinking about my trip to Italy. It’s the place where God most recently reminded me of this important biblical message – that we are all free. I was eager to read Rebekah’s book because this is a journey I was already on.

In You Are Free, I felt like Rebekah invited me to sit down for a cup of coffee to talk about freedom and all the many ways I need to walk in it. Rebekah tells her story of rescue from striving and approval, but she also invites me to reflect on my own story.

I heard Rebekah speak at the first IF:Gathering I attended in Fresno four years ago. She was one of the teachers who caught my attention with her vulnerable, personal story coupled with her passionate preaching. Rebekah overcame depression and anxiety to step into a new place of freedom in Christ.

Perhaps the most impactful chapter for me was “Free to Grieve.” Rebekah shares about the birth of her son Cade, who had a traumatic birth and was born with Down syndrome. Her words pierced me:

“Something died in me that day: the controlled plan for my ‘perfect’ life. In return, something was born that day: surrender to an unchartered and forever-changing path.

As I have navigated my own grief journey after my husband was diagnosed with cancer and died four months later, I have found this to be true. That year there was a shattering of my dreams.

Rebekah’s perspective challenged me: “But here’s the truth I’ve found: we only find that wholeness, that unity, when we allow ourselves to mourn the death of our worldly expectations.”

She encourages all of us that we not only need to give ourselves permission to cry and mourn, but there is actually freedom and comfort to be found in grief. Jesus meets us there. This was a profound reminder. My own story serves as a testimony this is true.

I highly recommend You Are Free as a great Spring Break read or even a book to work through more reflectively with a journal in hand to answer the “Becoming Free” prompts at the end of each chapter.

 

**If you are an avid reader, I encourage you to check out some of my other book reviews. These books have carried me through seasons of tragedy and triumph. I often serve on book launch teams as a way to get to know authors and their message better. Next month I’ll be reviewing Never Unfriended by Lisa-Jo Baker.

**Do you have a favorite book you are reading right now? Please let me know about it in the comments! I love to share recommendations. Sign up here for my Glorygram – a weekly(ish) gift of encouragement just for close friends, including lots of book and recipe recommendations.

Chili Pizazz & Honey Cornbread: Something warm for your insides

Posted by | Recipes, Uncategorized | One Comment

 

I grew up in Chicago. I always loved my mom’s spicy chili on brrrrrr-cold winter nights. This chili packed with veggies and served with a slice of warm, crusty bread was a family favorite. The winter months always stretched a little longer than I wanted in the Midwest so chili kept our insides warm.

My Italian mama spent lots of hours creating in the kitchen but I remember Sunday nights after church she usually served up quicker, easier meals. We needed time to get ready for the week ahead. This chili was easy to make and good to feed a crowd on a budget.

Even though I call California home today, I still have that longing at certain times of year for something with a little heat. My daughters are more sensitive to spicy than their mama. If I’m making this for the family, I use less cayenne pepper or cut it out altogether.

Another pairing I love is chili and cornbread. I created this cornbread recipe one night when I didn’t have much cornmeal left. It’s been a hit in my family ever since and my mom even has her fifth grade students make it each year when they are studying prairie life. I love the moist, honey tones. Serve it warm with a touch of organic butter as a side to the chili. I also like to serve it with our Tortilla Soup or Butternut Squash & Turkey Chili.

Is there a special meal that you ate growing up that speaks comfort to you? Please share in the comments about some of your faves. Join my email list to get recipes, encouragement and free resources delivered to your inbox!

Dorina’s Chili Pizazz

1 tablespoon olive oil
1 onion, chopped
1 red pepper, cut into 1-inch strips
1 yellow pepper, cut into 1-inch strips
1 green bell pepper, cut into 1-inch strips
1 cup ground beef or turkey, browned
1 15 oz. can kidney beans
1 15-oz. can black beans
1 29-oz. can organic diced tomatoes (or fresh if in season)
1 15-oz. can organic tomato sauce
1 quart chicken broth
1 teaspoon garlic powder
1 1/2 teaspoon chili powder
1/2 teaspoon cayenne pepper or red pepper flakes (optional if you like spicy)
2 teaspoons salt
2 bay leaves

1. Saute veggies in a large pot with olive oil.
2. Meanwhile, brown ground turkey in a frying pan and add to pot.
3. Add spices to veggie mix with tomatoes, sauce and chicken broth. Cook approx. 30 min.
4. Add beans and simmer additional 20 min.
5. Serve with warm bread or over rice.

Honey Cornbread

1/2 cup cornmeal
1 1/2 cups unbleached, unbromated flour (or gluten-free flour)
1 1/2 cups buttermilk
1/4 cup organic butter, melted
2 teaspoons (aluminum free) baking powder
1/2 teaspoon (aluminum free) baking soda
2 tablespoons honey
1 teaspoon salt
2 large eggs

1. Heat oven to 350 degrees. Grease an 8 by 8 square pan.
2. Beat eggs. Add remaining ingredients and mix in.
3. Pour in pan and bake approximately 30 minutes until golden brown on top.
4. Serve warm with honey and/or butter.

Contemplating Lent: A Return to Gratitude

Posted by | Behold, Discipline, gifts, Inspirational, noticing goodness, Stories | No Comments

 

I press in like Elijah. He does not reply in the mighty storm, or in the breathtaking earthquake, or even in the consuming fire, but in a gentle whisper dancing before dawn on Ash Wednesday.

I hear it: gratitude.

He is calling me to return to the discipline of gratitude. I began my list of 1000 gifts more than six years ago now when my belly was just rounding with our third baby girl – a surprise! I learned from Ann that “thanksgiving always precedes the miracle.”

This Lenten season I return to that practice of looking for Him in the minute and the mundane. I am chasing the word “behold” this year. I’ve discovered it means “being held” by my Savior. It means taking a posture of wild-eyed wonder. It means pressing in to listen and witness the miracle. It means putting aside my addictions, my idols, my sacred cows, and braving the Word he has for me in this darkness.

For the last few months, I’ve been starting my day with music. I put together a Morning Worship playlist and I’m trying to fight the urge to reach for my phone and social media first. Admittedly, that’s become a reflex, a pathway. I need to reroute.

Instead, I’m turning back to music to ground me, to point me to the Father. And now I hear Him asking me to remove the clay from my eyes and see Him again in the everyday. I need to be intentional about stopping to notice, beholding the wonder of the world around me, and chasing His glory in all circumstances.

I’ve gotten away from the practice of listing my gifts. It’s been more than a year since I pecked out late night or early morning posts about how my Father was caring for us. Rest assured, He has. In fact, the blessings have been so abundant I had this little fear worming its way through my heart that people would think I was showing off. I wondered if celebrating the daily joy, the newlywed heart flutters, the glimpses of His glory, would somehow discourage others. I felt like a fraud while so many across the world are suffering.

Wednesday morning He chastised me. These words rang out in the darkness:

“You are the light of the world. A city set on a hill cannot be hidden. Nor do people light a lamp and put it under a basket, but on a stand, and it gives light to all in the house. In the same way, let your light shine before others, so that they may see your good works and give glory to your Father who is in heaven.” (Matthew 5:14-16).

 The glory is His. It’s not for me to hide or be ashamed of or even wonder what others will think about my lists. It’s about my posture of gratitude. If Lent is about giving things up and turning our hearts back to our first Lover, then I believe gratitude may be the pathway out of complacency. I’m looking for that route with the more glorious view.

And so I continue my counting gifts – the discipline that lifts me, that lifts us all, that causes me to see Him in the every day.

Here are a few gifts from my week:

  1. That candle, my wedding scent – a reminder that Beauty always comes from the Ashes
  2. The way he laughs when he holds the baby, such light
  3. My smallest girl screaming out in pain after dropping a dumbbell on her toe – just a smashed toenail, nothing more
  4. Dipping spoons in bowls of soup and sharing life with this beautiful mama in the quiet
  5. The way his daughter, who has been reluctant to participate, just up and jumped the farthest on the whole Track team, following her daddy in Heaven’s footsteps
  6. This house that is so much more than a new roof, but a symbol of a new life and multiplied provision
  7. All my girlies piled on the big bed to read before bed, now a sacred practice
  8. The light in her eyes when she presented her book for an autograph and proudly announced she, too, was Filipina like me
  9. That book of poetry and homemade pear syrup she gifted me from her heart
  10. A phone call from across the ocean from my heart-friend who is navigating a transition and learning to make an old home new

I hope you will join me for the next 40 days. Let’s take time to count gifts again. I’ll be on Instagram and Facebook with the hashtag #GloryChasers if you want to post your gift lists. Maybe we can take back the internet in the process. Maybe?!

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