Words of Wisdom

Lately I've been thinking a lot about my words, how I use them, and the impact my words have on my heart.

I was at a Christmas service recently where we sang O Come All Ye Faithful. Tears filled my eyes as we repeated the lines "O come let us adore him" and "For He alone is worthy". In the stillness of the moment, contemplating those phrases overwhelmed me. My mind rested on the word "adore" and thoughts drifted to its more commonly utilized cousin "love". I was convicted thinking about how carelessly I throw that word around. I say that I love my husband, I love my new shoes, I love pumpkin spice lattes from Starbucks, I love Jesus. See how vastly different those things are? Do I really feel the same about my favorite pair of shoes as my husband? A coffee drink and the Creator of the Universe? Obviously I don't!

So then, part of the problem is that I am not careful with my words. I allow popular semantics and cultural norms to effect my speech. I ignore advice from the book of James. I have not tamed my tongue. One of the strongest analogies in James 3 is "Look at the ships also: though they are so large and are driven by strong winds, they are guided by a very small rudder wherever the will of the pilot directs." (James 3:4) It speaks right to the fact that our tongue, though small and seemingly powerless, has an unmistakeable impact on our very hearts and lives.

I am also considering how the words that come out of my mouth direct the attitudes of my heart. Or maybe it is the other way around and the attitudes of my heart impact the words that roll off my tongue. Either way, my heart and my words are inextricably connected and I know I need to be more careful with both. How often do I hear (and yes, even distribute on occasion) gossip - hurtful and ugly words about others? And how do those words shape my view on the person of whom I am speaking? How often do I allow lies spoken into my head "I am a failure"; "This outfit makes me look too fat/thin/young/old"; "I could never do that"; "I'm not worthy" come out of my mouth? Only I know the depth of the damage those words do to my self worth - and I can say it is pretty extensive.

With all these thoughts rolling around in my head, in the New Year, I am praying that I might be a woman of fewer words - more meaningful words, truer words, wiser words. That I'd use my words to encourage and not to tear down. That I would be precise, acknowledging that I enjoy my pumpkin spice latte, that I appreciate the beauty in my shoes, that I admire my husband and that I adore my God. I am praying, as the psalmist wrote, that the words of my mouth and the meditations of my heart would be acceptable to The Lord, who is my rock and my redeemer (Psalm 19:14).

The Way I See It

I've heard it before, "Well, the way I see it..." That phrase often precedes the speaker sharing her opinion on a topic based on her perspective. Recently, I've been thinking a lot about perspective. And I've learned that the way I look at things really does matter.

I have been reading the book One Thousand Gifts by Ann Voskamp (If you haven't read it - run, don't walk, run to the bookstore or click on the link and get it now!) and the book offered me great challenge and encouragement. I found myself saying "Me, too!" on page after page, thought after thought.

Ann (I'll use her first name like we're friends) writes of a life she lived for years, an unfulfilled life. Yes, she knew and loved the Lord, but often she found herself lacking something in a life filled with busyness - farm chores, six children to raise and homeschool, and countless writing and speaking engagements. Ann ultimately came to the conclusion that what she was missing, that which would satisfy her weary soul, was living a life full of JOY in the Lord.

Thus, Ann began a journey to discover eucharisteo, or thanksgiving, in her daily life. She decided to make a list, to count one thousand blessings in her every day. She named things like morning shadows across old floors (#1); mail in the mailbox (#22); kisses in the dark (#56); clean sheets smelling like the wind (#243); suds...all color in the sun (#362); forgiveness of a sister (#783); toothless smiles (#882). Every item named, recognized, acknowledged as a gift and thanks given for it.

And so, in response to Ann's journey, I've decided to take one of my own. I have started my own list of one thousand gifts, the reminders of His grace and goodness in the ordinary that I could easily miss out on if I didn't take the time to recognize them, to count them, to name them as blessings. But more than a list (because I'm a list maker and I'm task oriented and this could easily become more of an intellectual challenge than an act of worship) I am feeling a heart change, a shift in my point of view.  I am made more aware of how my perspective of a situation determines whether I name it as a blessing, whether I can find the beauty and see something worthy of praise in a song or a scent or a moment. And if I find beauty and give thanks in all the moments, isn't this life, these few short years, much sweeter? And if I am so busy being thankful that I forget to worry or fret or complain, isn't this life much more beautiful and worthwhile and pleasing to Him? To do this, to truly be able to give thanks and find joy, I am going to have to learn to be present in each moment, letting go of the past, not worrying about the future, and living, breathing, soaking up the now.

It is also worth noting that this sense of gratitude and joy I am seeking are not an attempt to permanently implant rose-covered lenses over my eyes or to ignore the reality I live in. Because the truth is, there are some things in life for which giving thanks is difficult. There are hard days, bad weeks, difficult years. We are hurt at times, cut deep by betrayal or pain or loss. There are times when giving thanks seems ridiculous because the situation seems utterly devoid of God. But if we believe that God is sovereign and that He is good no matter our circumstances, then we can't help but give thanks at all times in all things. I pray that in those moments I will be able to live the hard eucharisteo, to give the difficult thanksgiving. Because He is always worthy.

This morning I added to my list:
7. Truth in the Word speaking into the reality of my situation
8. Writers who inspire me
9. Warm hazelnut coffee

So maybe you won't make a list to one thousand blessings. But maybe it is enough to start seeing things differently. You could just start by answering the question: What are you thankful for today?

What India Taught Me

Back in April, Matt and I traveled to India to visit our sweet friends Scott and Wendy who live and serve there. Since we got back, so many people of asked how the trip was, and to be honest, I've not found an adequate answer: "Good"? Yes it was a good experience but that doesn't quite capture it. "Eye opening"? Definitely, but more than my eyes were opened to the things I saw. "Challenging"? It was a daily challenge to even navigate our way from our flat to Scott and Wendy's in the rushed, crowded pace, through the hot and thick air of the city. I haven't yet devoted a blog to our trip, mostly because it has taken me all this time to truly begin processing all that I learned and experienced, but given that we're in a global missions series at church, I thought now would be an appropriate time to jot down a few lessons I learned in India.

1. Community is Key
During our time in India, we were fortunate enough to not only visit with and encourage our friends, but also to meet some others who they serve alongside. One Saturday I got the chance to have some one on one time with about ten ladies who are living and serving in India. The occasion was a housewarming party for one of the newest additions to the team who had arrived in the country only weeks earlier. As a gift, each guest brought a favorite recipe along with all the ingredients necessary to make the meal. They shared tips with the newcomers (and with me) and also shared current praises, struggles and prayer requests with each other.

It was a sweet time and I was grateful to be in the presence of so many selfless and loving ladies. I was struck by many things about these special women - their creativity with the recipes (finding American ingredients in India is no easy task), their love for those they serve, their joy in the "little things" (like playing Minute to Win It) - but mostly what I learned from them was just how important community is. These women live all over the city (and surrounding cities) and serve different segments of the population. They spend a large majority of their time serving individually or with their families, and it would be easy to shut off and potentially become isolated. But they take the time on a regular basis to stop their work and encourage each other. Also, never once did I sense any territoriality or jealousy for others' success even in the midst of personal struggle. No, the women truly seemed to rejoice with each other, because a victory or praiseworthy situation in the life of one of them was a win for the common goal they work towards. I was challenged as I thought of the way so many of their US counterparts (myself regrettably included at times) bicker and battle jealousy and pride, struggle to truly celebrate the victory of another ministry or church, becoming jealous at their own lack of "success". I am so glad to have been reminded that we do Kingdom work, for a Kingdom purpose and living in community (with the focus on unity) is the truest example we have of heaven on earth. I am praying now for those amazing ladies, for the ladies I serve with, and for those in my community of friends - not to us but to His name be the glory!


2. Work Hard, Rest Hard
In India, simple tasks such as taking transportation or going shopping or even crossing the street were draining and difficult tasks. Walking through the slums in the midday sun was physically draining and emotionally traumatic. Culture shock, which our friend Scott defined as something you see or hear or experience from another culture that you wish you could change. Based on that definition, we experienced culture shock for a large portion of every day. I thought it might go away, that I might get used to the noise, the smells, the people...but even after two weeks I didn't. What I learned from this experience was that each day, in the heat of the day, after lunch, it was very important for us to go inside somewhere to eat and to cool down, to rest and rejuvenate before the evening's activities which often stretched past my bedtime. Being completely out of my comfort zone forced me to recognize my physical, emotional and spiritual limits - and to stop and rest.

Since we got back from India (and sometime before that, taking my Busy Season into consideration), Matt and I have been running pretty much non-stop. Last week, both of us began feeling really aware of our own weakness and recognized the need to stop and rest in Him. I read this blog and Matt and I discussed and he suggested we take some time off. So, for several days this week, we are unplugging and recharging our batteries. I was getting to an unhealthy place, and I am so grateful for wisdom from bloggers, friends and my husband to see the truth and guide me to it. I'll try to post soon about the results of the Bricks' resting adventure.

3. The Joy of the Lord really is our Strength

One of the hardest things about India, at least in my experience, was seeing the sense of utter hopelessness on the faces of so many people we encountered. As I have mentioned, life in India is difficult. The population has far surpassed the infrastructure that has been built. There are far more people than there are jobs or even houses. It was not uncommon there to encounter people doing even the most menial tasks for a few rupees. In many elevators it was someone's job to press the button for you. Men stood guard in most malls to open the door or hold your other shopping bag as you entered each store. It is also typical there for even those in the middle class to have house helpers, or people who come and wash your dishes, sweep your floors, etc. These people work so hard for so little. And they are the "lucky ones" who can find jobs. There were also many beggars and others who had probably given up asking altogether.

So, clearly, there is not much to be happy about and so much to worry about. The odd thing, though, the beautiful thing, is that when we visited the people of the church, we could see and experience the joy that the Lord had put inside their heart. It wasn't a matter of them having a better or different situation - all of the house churches I visited were located in the slums as well, with many people sharing the amenities of a one room shack - it was in the middle of their circumstances that these believers could smile and sing songs of praise and clap and share the ways the Lord had again proven Himself faithful. I am so grateful to have met these believers, to have seen the impact that the hope of the Lord had in their life, even in the midst of dire circumstances. I pray that I could display that same joy no matter my circumstances!



To close, I'll just share a few pics to recap the trip.

Sharing a meal with new friends

Taking in our first cricket match. I'll be honest. I fell asleep.

At the wedding of one of Scott & Wendy's neighbors.Awesome opportunity to celebrate the beauty of another culture. 

At the downtown train station

Waiting on a ricksaw

Enjoying some street food. It was delish!

Enjoying the Taj Mahal. More beautiful in person than the picture can portray.

I am so thankful to have gotten to go to India, to see and experience and learn. To encourage and love Scott and Wendy, and to discover more about myself, ministry, and all the ways the Lord is growing me.

Waiting Game

Lately, I've been in a season of waiting. A time where I know something big is bound to happen…just not yet. A season where things aren’t going quite the way I’d hope. A season of struggle. A “meantime”. Some people might even call this season a rut.  I have been waiting, yes, though not so patiently. I while back I was explaining these feelings to a friend over coffee, and she offered me some wisdom. (I’m so thankful to be surrounded by so many wise women). She shared with me a passage out of Jeremiah 29. When she started to speak about this chapter, I thought it was going to be the well-known and (too) oft-used Jeremiah 29:11, where the Lord declares, “For I know the plans I have for you, plans for welfare and not for evil, to give you a future and a hope.” The passage my friend encouraged me with was actually a few verses before this one. She led me to Jeremiah 29: 4-7:

“Thus says the Lord of hosts, the God of Israel, to all the exiles whom I have sent into exile from Jerusalem to Babylon: Build houses and live in them; plant gardens and eat their produce. Take wives and have sons and daughters; take wives for your sons, and give your daughters in marriage, that they may bear sons and daughters; multiply there, and do not decrease. But seek the welfare of the city where I have sent you into exile, and pray to the Lord on its behalf, for in its welfare you will find your welfare.” (ESV)

In these verses the Lord is encouraging the Israelites to fully engage during their season of waiting. He doesn’t tell them to wish the season away; to make their own plans for the next season; to complain about the waiting. No, he tells them to build houses; to plant gardens and eat from them; to marry; to multiply; to seek the welfare of the city. He does not encourage them to hate the city because it isn’t their final (or desired) destination. Instead, they are to pray to the Lord on the city’s behalf.

So while I’m waiting, I pray that I can learn to really invest where I’m at, wherever that may be. That I could be a light in this moment instead of being so caught up with what the next moment might look like. That my current situation would be better because Jesus is in it.

Also, I pray that I can trust in the Lord in my waiting. That I would truly believe that no matter what circumstance or situation I find myself in, that He is in control and that He knows what is best for me, often even more than I do.

Bethany Dillon, one of my favorite Christian artists, recently came out with a new EP titled “To Those Who Wait”. The lyrics to the title track include:

“ Oh, my soul, wait on the Lord.
Keep your lamp filled with oil.
Oh, my soul, Be not deceived!
Wait for Him. Don’t be quick to leave.
Lord, today, You know what I need to do,
But you can do more in my waiting than in my doing I could do. So I won’t run anymore. I’m waiting on You.”

So as my ramblings for the day come to an end, I’m thankful – for wise friends, for Scripture, for God’s promises. I am trying to get better at waiting, of letting go of control and letting the Lord lead. Much easier said than done. But with His help and by His power I press (and wait) on.

Fear Not

What are your biggest fears? I have come up with my list. My biggest fears include:

• The dark 
• Being left alone 
• Failure 
• Disappointing people 
• Cockroaches 
• The Unknown 

A few weeks ago, I was listening to a sermon, and the thing that stuck out to me the most didn’t even really relate to the primary topic (it was a sermon on marriage). During his charge to wives, the pastor shared some encouragement; he said that the most-used phrase in the Bible is “Fear not”. The Lord encourages us to stand strong in the face of frightening situations. In Joshua 1:9, the Lord challenges Joshua: “Have I not commanded you? Be strong and courageous. Do not be frightened and do not be dismayed, for the lord you God is with you wherever you go.”

Last week I started reading through the book of Luke. And I was again reminded of the Lord’s urging to be brave. In Luke 1, we meet Zechariah and Elizabeth, the parents of John the Baptist. They are, shall we say, advanced in years. And Elizabeth is barren. Zechariah serves in the temple, and one day when he is at work and angel appears to him. As my translation puts it, when he saw the angel, Zechariah was “troubled” and “fear came upon him”. (Luke 1:12). Six months later, when the angel appears to Mary to foretell the birth of Jesus, he greets her but she is troubled and confused. He tells her, “Do not be afraid Mary, for you have found favor with God.” (Luke 1: 30).

In both situations, the recipients of the angel’s news were afraid and unsure. For Zechariah, this was probably a feeling of disbelief that a decades-long prayer for a child has been answered. For Mary her fear was likely a question of whether God’s plan for her future made sense – HER, a VIRGIN, to give birth to the Savior of the world? Seems unlikely..right?

We know how the story turns out – neither Zechariah or Mary let their fear stand in the way of the plan the Lord had for them. They trusted the Lord and knew that whatever He was orchestrating in their lives was ultimately for their best. I’m sure we’ve all had experiences where the Lord was showing us something, a plan He has for us, an obedience He is calling us to. As I shared some of my biggest fears, I’ve been wondering:

How often do I cower, retreat back when facing a fear? How often do I refrain from sharing truth with people because I’m afraid of their reaction? How often do I fail to try something new or different or study something because I might not be good at it? And more importantly, why do I do these things when the God of the Universe is telling me not to be afraid?

This week I’m praying that I’d be obedient to the Lord when he commands me to fear not; that I’d be strong and courageous. Would you pray that with me – for me and for yourself?

Not a Saint

At 2:30 this morning, my Nanny peacefully died in her sleep.

These are my thoughts as I process the loss of a very special lady in my life (and yours, if you know me):

When we first met, she was afraid of me. At least that's what she always told me. Most grandmothers aren't afraid of their grandkids, but I guess taking care of a premature granddaughter who is hooked up to various machines would be kind of scary at first.

It didn't take long, though, for Nanny to get over her fear, and for me to get better, and by the time I was in kindergarten, she had moved in with us. I honestly don't remember life at home before she came. What I do remember is how awesome it was to have her there. She was a second Mom to me. Not to take anything away from my own Mom, but Nan and I had a special bond. She was there when I got home from school, to make me snacks and watch Scooby Doo (which I couldn't watch alone because I was too scared). She made my dinner and did my laundry and was just there...all the time, because she never learned how to drive.

She was the second oldest of twelve siblings (a feat which still amazes me) born to farmers in Grainger County, TN. She moved out at fourteen (yes 1-4!) to work at the Inn in town. She got married and had kids. Then, when my Mom was 10, my grandfather died unexpectedly. So, my grandmother picked up her scattered life, and moved on. For the first time in her life, she worked outside the home. Eventually, she even owned a restaurant in town where she honed her fine country cooking skills. Anyone who knew my Nanny knew what an amazing cook she was - I can still taste her biscuits, green beans, roast, beef stew, greens, fried pies, cakes, candies, chocolate chip cookies as I write this.

Along with all of those things that I admire about her, Nan sure did have some frustrating habits. She was extremely opinionated and didn't mind one bit to make you mad as long as she felt that she got to have her say. She was pretty nosy, which made private conversations at home almost impossible. She like to have things "her way"... and let's just say it was a bad idea to try to do things any other way.

I visited my Nanny in November as she was in a Rehab Center, and everyone there could attest to the fact that she was a little cranky. She did NOT want to do the therapy they had suggested for her and she told anyone who would listen, from the nurses to the therapists to visitors.
I don't say all these things to defame or dishonor my sweet Nanny but simply to say this: She was not a saint.

My Mom and I had a conversation recently where she pointed out that so often when people die, we make saints out of them, remembering only the good stuff and none of the bad. So as I am processing the loss and the hurt I feel knowing that she is no longer with us, I am not only remembering the thousands of fond memories (her planting flowers each summer, working puzzles on the dining room table, watching Larry King every night, playing with her makeup just to name a few) I am also struck by her humanity, which also makes me acutely aware of my own.

So, here's to you Nanny (Mary Virginia Cameron Wells), you were not a saint, not by far. But you lived, and you loved and you taught me so very much. I am exceedingly blessed to have had you in my life for so long. I will miss you more than you know.

Guest Blog: A Christmas Without Nuts & Bolts

I can't take credit for this one, my older brother, Tate, wrote this earlier in the week and asked me to to post it when I next blogged...

Every year as I was growing up as Christmas neared my parents house was filled with aromas that would make your mouth water. There would be various cakes, pies, brownies, and cookies. There was fudge, both chocolate and peanut butter, and an assorted snack we always called Nuts and Bolts. Most of you have probably had this before but may know it by a different name. It is simply Chex Mix, Cheerios, nuts, and pretzels combined, covered in spices and baked. Even without the benefit of a calendar when you saw the nuts and bolts you knew IT WAS CHRISTMAS!

Where did all of this come from you ask? It came from nan. Nan is my maternal grandmother that has lived with my parents from the time I was in middle school. Why did she do this? That is an easy answer: LOVE. See baking is how nan showed her love, and she was good at it. She loved making baskets or tins for people at Christmas and filling them with the delicious treats she made. She had several cakes that were specialties of hers; Apple stack cake, German Chocolate, Caramel, and Red Velvet. Now don’t get me wrong while she loved the baking it was a labor. Many times I would see her throw out what I thought was a perfectly good layer for a cake because it didn’t meet her expectations. She worked hard in the summer drying her own apples for her stack cake so it would be just right. Anything less just wouldn’t do.

Sadly this Christmas is just not the same. My parents house doesn’t have the same smell. There aren’t cakes piling up for her to keep my hands out of. There is not that big jar of Nuts & Bolts for me to snack on. This Christmas instead of running from store to store for ingredients my mom is running to visit her ailing mother. See nan is laying in a hospice center laying in bed living out her remaining days. A body that has spent an entire life working is reduced to just laying and struggling to speak. And you know what Christmas just won’t be the same.

This is the part about growing up that absolutely sucks because nan is my only remaining grandparent. With the passing of each of my other grandparents there have been changes but they are most noticeable at Christmas. From sitting on my pappaws lap in his chair as a child with him calling me pappaws good boy. Also, watching maymee, my paternal grandmother, host Christmas at her house yearly while enjoying the presence of her entire family. Then, now there is the void of aromas brewing at my parents house this Christmas. Mary Virginia Cameron Wells I will miss you. I will miss your cooking. I will miss the shoulder to lean on when I needed it. I will miss my nanny. Oh and I will miss the Nuts and Bolts.