HONESTLY SPEAKING

Collected Style: Couch Pillows

The other day a friend of mine described my style as one that took time to collect. I have a story about almost everything in my house. It's true, I've collected the style of my home piece by piece. 

I love nothing much more than diving into a wonderful Saturday morning estate sale. The older the stuff, the better. Most of the things I love most have come to me by way of an estate sale, costing me between $1-$20. I started collecting things here and there when i moved out of my parent's house and into my own place when I was 20 years old. I didn't have the money to buy much, but loved interior design. Decorating on a budget led me to find my way to these cool sales.

I mix new things with old things and it's creating a colorful space to live in and invite others to rest in too. It's not just Estate Sales, but things I find as I pop into this or that store. I don't want to buy it all at once. Collecting your style takes time. Buying it all at once leaves you with a house that looks a little more like a Pottery Barn catalogue than your unique space.

Today I recieved my first Fab.com order in the mail. I ordered two pillows for a very low price. So great! If you haven't signed up for Fab.com's emails, I think you should. I have liked looking through what they put out there each day. It's similar to other online shopping outfits like One Kings Lane. You get a daily email with deals that last a few days and limited resources. Everything's on sale and nothing is ever hum-drum. You can count on unique items you don't see everyday. It's like Groupon meets QVC I suppose. 

Pillows are a great way to change things up. I always move them around and change them in and out based on the time of year. Mix in orange in the fall, red at Christmas and bright colors for the spring and summer. The pillows on this couch are an ecclectic group of colors, but I think they work really well. In person, it's even better. Here's the story of this collected style: 

Left to right: 

Velvet Quilted Eggplant pillows: clearance at Pottery Barn a few years ago. These are my achor. They're always on my couch through every season.

Hot pink ruffle pillow: I found this in the teen bedding section at Target. Yup. Total find. Where else will you find a wonderful hot pink pillow covered in ruffles? Mixed in, it totally works as a surprise splash of vibrant color.

Round velvet tufted pillow: Clearance item at the end of an isle once at Target a few years back. I bought 3. I think Frankie has officially chewed 1 of them, leaving me with 2. 

Grey & Bright Green Pattern LInen PIllow: These are the Fab.com pillows. Aren't the fab?! ;) I think they add a punch of color and the pattern breaks up all the solids.

Charcoal Grey Velvet: I found this gem at World Market. They have a great selection of velvet pillows for 9.95 or something super reasonable like that. I think they have them in at least 10 colors. I picked them up when I was about to have company over a few months ago to spruce things up a bit. I'm a fan.

I purchased these navy velvet slip-covered couches 12 years ago. I moved out into my own place, I was 20 years old, and decided that with the money I had set aside I would buy great couches. Great couches attract good friends and conversations. I'm convinced. If you have been my friend for a few years, you know that these couches are a cozy part of life in my living room...back in Toluca Lake and now in my new house. 

More collected style posts to come! :) I hope this inspires you to create things the way you like them...you make the rules! Go shop the teen section of Target...you just might find something great! ;) 

My rules for this space: buy neutral bases (walls, couches, floors, expensive pieces, etc) and then accent with bright colorful pieces that can be changed in and out. 

 

 

 

Everyday. Everything. I am yours.

It's an ordinary Monday. My day off. I'm still getting out of the house, but it really doesn't matter what I get done...as long as I rest. I have learned a lot about how I tick over the last few years. I know that to be on and give out as much as I do I have to be vigilent about having plenty of quiet down time to reflect and recharge. 

I used to think I was a city girl. I guess there is a part of me who is. I love cities. I love all of the people, creativity, and noise...but I am better not to live in the middle of it all.

When I'm at my best, I'm in the midst of nature. The way these mountains, this ocean, and these hidden secret streams calm my soul is like no other. I'm grateful. I'm in awe. 

To the Maker of the skies and mountains, beauty and redemption...I am yours. I am totally yours. You are the One and Only God. I will serve you all the days of my life. You are worthy of our everything. 

 

How Questions Lead to Stories.

It's not everyday that I find Estate Sales that I love. Today I did. I was so excited. 

I love repurposing someone's once loved things. I especially love finding vintage glass and christmas decorations. Today I found both in one place! Score one for my team!! 

I looked over to the side and found these hand made vintage ornaments. I can't wait to create a super cool vintage christmas tree next year. 

The lady who made them just passed away and there was her grandson, Houston, in the driveway selling her things. He said he was most interested in them finding good homes. 

I asked about the ornaments and he shared her story. He said that his grandma was an amazing woman with a beautiful heart. 

"I think these were probably a craft project that she did with all of her foster kids. She rescued over 250 kids until she adopted my uncle because he had special needs. He lived 18 years...and he was only expected to live 2." 

I could tell that the soul of this family was deep and full of life. I told him I would cherish these ornaments and give them a good home. 

I love to hear the story. Everyone has one. It's our job to ask good questions. Today, I heard such beautiful answers.

I'm so sorry you lost your grandma. 

Houston invited me to stop by the local Starbucks where he works. I promised to bring a picture of the tree this December.

"Oh that would be so wonderful. Right now my mom can't stop crying to be out here, but I know that she'll cherish that later."

Grateful for a good day garage sale shopping. Good curious questions lead to stories.

In Honor of My Pretty Mama.

My mom is one of my favorite people. I'm so glad she's mine.

In tender moments I recollect that this is the woman who taught me to tie my shoes, worked so hard teaching Kindergarten and 1st graders all day...and came home to one too. She taught us to pray when you hear a siren (I still do), to imagine that Jesus was sitting by you (because he is), to use your words and not your fists. She was there for me when all the friend dramas went down and always told me to "consider the source" when my feelings were hurt. 

My mom has a great sense of humor. I love when she starts laughing and can't stop because one of my characters has started a parody of someone. Marta the hairdresser is always a great go-to. "Miss Trish, you are so beautiful! Why you let your hair go so grey? We fix this right away. You sit still..." (and then I would apply the hair color) Now she pays someone to do this and Marta is out of work. We laugh so hard together.

When my mom held me in her arms for the first time she promised we'd be great friends. She said she would take me shopping and go out to lunch, and so we do.  I take her up on this the day after Christmas. It's one of my favorite days of the year. Sure I like the shopping and the lunching, but most of all I love a good 8-10 hours of mommy-daughter time the most. No boys. No interruptions. Just us. Some years my grandma came too. We miss her every year when we're in a Macy's dressing room. I know my mom misses her everyday. 

The cool thing is that my mom has mastered the balance of being a mom who is like a friend...not a friend who happens to be my mom. I'm glad for this. I need a mom...I have lots of friends. I see moms who just want to be friends with their kids and I am sad that they give up such an essential role. Thank you mom for your willingness through the years to do the dirty work of saying no, of telling the truth, and letting me have some space as I grew up.

When I was a teenager, I discovered my mom was mischievous. She taught me how to short sheet a bed and play pranks while away at Job's Daughters retreats. My mom also stays up late...and by late I mean usually midnight or 1am. We have had decades of late night chats on the phone or on the couch. We both love vanilla tea. 

In middle school I must've tried out a thousand identities. I tye-dyed my shirts, I ripped my jeans, I wore black with flannels around my waist. There was a little too much eyeliner sometimes, and the few weeks I borrowed a friend's Doc Martens. One year I spent my school clothes money on some ridiculous and ripped up oversized overalls from a thrift store. I think they were 50 dollars. My mom rarely protested. She knew her creative girl would have to explore a bit.  (Okay, she definitely did not like the overalls)

The time I came home, I think it was the summer before 7th grade, proclaiming that I planned to dye my hair red or burgundy or something like that. Instead of trying to convince me that my chestnut brown hair was just fine, she told me that I would not be dying my hair. She would. We went to the store and she helped me pick out a pretty color of redish mahogony. It would be in my hair for 20 washes. She promised that if I loved it we could go longer, but this would be the start. I felt so alive and different when my hair was darker red. It expressed something a in me that I needed to say. It's funny, and maybe a little silly, but this was an important moment for me. It was my mom saying "I see you. I give you freedom to be Kristie." I am so grateful. 

I could list a thousand memories and moments I am grateful for. I could go on and on about pinics in the backyard under the nectarine tree, the way she always sings weird TV theme songs under her breath in the grocery store, her beautiful smile, kind heart, and sacrificial ways. 

I'm grateful to call Trish Vosper my mom. Happy Mother's Day to an incredible woman. See you today at church! I'm looking forward to lunch after. 

I love you more.

KV

Evidence of Life: Flowers in the canyon, hip hop on the beach.

The flowers are blooming in the midst of the canyons of Malibu right now. Today I saw a whole row of bright pink along Topanga, and Malibu Canyon is covered in beautiful yellow clouds of mustard all tangled inbetween vibrant green grass. New life again. 

Spring in the canyons of Malibu feels a lot like a Ray Lamontagne song, or a Joni Mitchell tune. I love the way everyone seems to come out to play and throw parties in their backyards with wine and their grills are used again along with firepits, and everyone stays up later and clears their schedule for some fun. Winter is over and everything feels more alive and at the same time slower and deep. 

I've had two well spent meandering days. I find freedom in my heart when my calendar isn't too full and there is room for spontaneity, whimsy, and the moments that seem to happen like they were all planned out by God in the first place. It seems when I don't plan my life too much, it gives Him some space to. Do you sense that in your life too?

This time of year I believe in keeping a beach chair in my car. You just never know when you'll want to put your feet in the sand for an hour. If I have the beach chair handy...I will do this. If I don't have a beach chair, I will lovingly covet my friends' private beach club memberships and their piles of unplanned easy beach chairs and drive past the public beach access spots and never touch the sand.

Yesterday, I had the beach chair and some time...so I made it happen. I went to put my feet in the sand. I went to CVS, bought some 3x5 cards to write ideas for a writing project on and some m&ms. I found a perfect spot in the sand and settled in. I wrote and soaked in the sun and into the moment.

Suddenly a group of 20somethings with their boom box, beer in Snapple bottles, and loudness came and put all of their regaila directly in front of me blocking most of my view. There were a thousand other places they could have found as their beach towel home, but they chose to plant their overrated reality show right in front of me. Sigh. 

I had to choose to get pissed and move, or just take it in stride. Since I have not yet added sunscreen to the group of things I keep in my car for these beach trips, this Irish girl knows that there is should be a very short window in the sand anyway. I decided to thank God that He had made these characters even if their stories were all interrupting mine. I was glad they were alive and healthy and enjoying the beach even if they were totally unware of how totally annoying they were to me. I think it's all in how we look at things...and knowing all the people who don't get to enjoy life and sunshine days at the beach, these annoyances should not be the main thing...they really shouldn't interrupt or rob my peace.  Thankfully, yesterday they didn't. Not a chance. It was all too good to be taken.

That evening, I drove the canyons to two gatherings of friends and found my heart at peace and full of gratitude. Fire pits and carefully hung strands of white lights made the whole day end with a bit of depth and whimsy all tangled together.

Malibu is like your misunderstood friend. She's like the girl people look at and assume she's just too beautiful to have any inner beauty or depth. She's judged by her celebrity or wealth, summed up as a tabloid would do, missing the real truth and story. When you drive deep into the canyons and homes of Malibu and have dinner with her people, you'll find what I've found: community, depth, kindness, creativity, freedom and love. 

So I am grateful. This weekend I made the space to connect with the Starbucks manager whose daughter sings songs with me at the preschool on Wednesday mornings and hear more of her story.  I made sure to smile and look in the eyes of the little girl in the grocery store who was being ignored by her dad who doesn't seem to know what to do with her on "his weekend." The life happening all around us wants a companion, begs us to notice and enter into the moments that are the richest part anyway.

A day by day, moment by moment life is the kind that we all are hoping for anyway and the thing is...it's already here. 

"Consider the lilies of the field, they do not store away in barns and yet they are clothed." It seems to me that a quiet life of true connection and peace comes when we lean in and don't worry about tomorrow because we believe that this very day is it's own ordinary wonderful gift...even if it is interrupted for a moment by drunk college hip hop on the beach.

Reflections after seeing the movie Blue Like Jazz

Yesterday was one of those days. I felt pummeled from the moment I woke up. Without going into all the details, it was hard. My makeup was cried off by noon and I was ready for a long nap...but there wasn't room for one at all. I kept going, knowing I'd get to sit in a dark room and watch a movie with my friend Morgan very soon.

I'd purchased tickets for Blue Like Jazz the week before. If you know much about how films distribute and are successful and get out there...it's really really hard. Even the very best films have a hard time with distribution and marketing if they don't have mega dollars behind them from the big dog studios. Knowing this, buying a ticket the opening weekend to any film is like casting your vote in an election to see who's movie gets to stay in the theaters. I want to see this succeed.

I was amused by the journey that the characters take. I related to the moments of exposure to the big bad world. Don, Penny, and even the visit from Jordan were all so similar to my story, I bet you might know them too. I even knew several pope characters who I partied with and talked about the meaning of life and God and pain on a few drinks till 3am so many nights. I cringe to think about how deep and novel we thought we were. (I am always that girl that drunk people pour their deepest truths out to on the couch.)

I liked the film Blue Like Jazz because it evokes a conversation, it invites some reflection, and caused me to wonder at my own story and journey again.

I was a very disallusioned college freshman. I was rather pissed at the whole machine when I arrived at Christian College, stripped of my car, adult lifestyle, and rebellious Hollywood-girl freedoms, small little christian Westmont College tucked in the hills felt all too perfect and quiet for my hurting soul. Immersed in classes with home-schooled or christian high-schooled kids who'd kissed dating goodbye, my public school journey and pierced single dad older boyfriend back in Hollywood was quite a contrast. I was arrogant and out of place. Depression and anxiety set in immediately. I found power and control in loosing weight quickly. I felt abandoned, alone, and homesick. I played the roll of christian girl rebel...but I was really a little girl crying out for help. I'm sure it was all pretty annoying for many around me. I pushed the theological boundaries at every turn. I challenged it all. I got in trouble for having gay guys in my room on non-boy-in-your-room days (ooo big deal). I wrote my papers on all the ways the church was failing humanity. I was falling apart and coming to life all at the same time I suppose. I'll tell ya, I'm quite glad these are years are in the rearview mirror...but they are full of a complexity and richness that shaped me.

Watching Blue Like Jazz brought all that up for me. I related with Don's character deeply. I knew the world he was walking in. Sure I didn't go to a liberal college (at first), I sort of grew up in a world with layers upon layers of deconstructed crazy like Reed...Westmont was supposed to be my refuge and escape from "the world." What I didn't know was that the people in "the world" were those I loved and who I felt loved by. I felt more understood by those who'd knew deep pain than those who'd largely been protected from it. Honesty is always safer for our souls than inauthenticity.

Those days, it was authentic people God brought my way and honest writing that preceeded Blue Like Jazz gave my conflicted heart the refuge I needed. My Name is Asher Lev, The Catcher and the Rye and finally a few years later, Anne Lamott's Traveling Mercies gave me freedom and permission to love Jesus and hold all this tension.  

My church had failed me in many ways my senior year, and I thought maybe Westmont would fix it. The truth is, I had to see the brokenness of it all to then make my life about being part of the revival and redemption: the kingdom. I had to understand the gospel against the reality of the ache it enters into to really understand the immensity of this LOVE: God.

So go and see Blue Like Jazz. It'll make you think and reflect on how you feel about the christian culture, the church and the way Jesus continues to call us to His side and tell us the truth about things. 

I've never made a film, but I've grown up in a place where I've been able to watch a lot of people do this. It's hard hard work...one of the most challenging art forms to create well. It's important to support the art that is saying something important and I believe that BLJ is. Vote with your ticket.

Moonlit Path: Easter Eve Adventure

At about 9:30pm I was driving the 101 freeway home from a movie with some friends. Above the hills of Calabasas the moon was large, bright, and magestic. It took my breath away! I thought instantly, "I wish I could see that moon on the water..." 

I went home, I grabbed my camera, a jacket and changed my shoes. I decided to set out on an adventure. I thought that perhaps this would be my private Easter celebration with Jesus.

I felt led to the water for something beautiful. 

About 10 years ago, amidst some 22 year-old-agnst and frustration I was led to the water to see this pathway of light for the first time. I felt the Spirit of the Lord say to me "Kristie, I have made no one in all creation quite like you. I love you!" I felt so seen, loved, connected with in a lonely desperate time. 

Ever since then, I feel such a profound connection to the image of a shimmering light upon the dark ocean. It is stunning. I am in awe of the Creator who made me and makes so much beauty for my eyes to see. I am in awe that He loves me and this image is a reminder.

I started through Malibu Canyon, turned right on PCH and made a U-turn at Corral Canyon. Pulling to the side of the road there wasn't a loud crashing wave, but a quiet lap of the water turning over at high tide. It was beautiful, but the cars were too loud passing by and I didn't feel safe. 

I drove to the Bluff's Park where my church had a crew setting up the tent and our sweet security guard, Michael, was standing guard. I thought how nice it was that I could go to the perfect place to take my photos and sit on a bench without a worry that I was being a little dangerous in the dark. 

My camera captured only half of the beauty of these moments. For about an hour I sang my heart out and also was quiet and still, just watching the beauty.

I sang all the old worship songs from my childhood. I drank in the moment and sat on a bench. When I got up, I noticed lettering on the bench: beauty. 

Beautiful night.

Beautiful light.

Beautiful God.

Beautiful love.

Beautiful Savior.

God, who in His very nature is LOVE, came to earth to communicate to us and then to redeem this broken world. The redemption is happening all around us...and yet we await a full redemption when He will make everything new. He will flood the darkness with light.

 

Defining Reality: A Quick Thought on Good Leadership

I heard a good leader say something profound today. He took a messy situation and he appealed to the head and the hearts of the people he leads. It was a uniting and sobering statement that brought the truth to the surface. Many around him have been swirling with their oppinions and thoughts all week and there in the midst of it all he said "What if it was me? I keep wondering, what if it was my child?"

It made me think about a phrase in a leadership book I once read that said this:

"Leaders define reality."

I've thought this through so many times over the years in my various leadership roles. My job to define reality is something that I try to take very seriously. I don't want to create a false reality, and I also don't want to avoid this important job because it is hard or messy.

People will always talk and try to give their angle and their belief of a situation, but a good leader takes it all in and helps define reality for their people. It is especially important when it's hard and controversial or a justice issue. The easy thing is to be silent...the GOOD thing is to step in.

Defining a reality brings peace, direction, focus out of a usually chaotic mess of finger pointing. The next step for a leader is to cast vision and direction for the way each person can live once reality has been defined.  

Good leaders lead with intention.

Committed to Justice and The Parable of the Talents

There are certainly two sides to every story, and sometimes there might even be 10 or 12 sides. When it comes to complex global issues, I find there is an alarming number of angles to consider. Sometimes the amount of complexity can be paralyzing and overwhelming. Step in one direction and you cause a problem for these people over here, step in another and you create less jobs over there. It's overwhelming. It's hard work. Justice isn't easy. Global issues aren't solved easily. 

I have a cousin who is a mission director for USAID. He's spent most of the last 20 years in former USSR countries trying to establish democracies and order. Sharing meals with Mike and his wife over the years has taught me that things just aren't easy to solve on this earth. It's rather tangled...but still worth working for. I have learned through their incredible stories that patience is a key component in justice work. Patience, perseverance, wisdom and humility.

So what do we do when there are children dying and we are not? How do we manage the incredible asset we possess that they do not: freedom? 

I engaged in a rather lively conversation on my Facebook wall regarding the Invisible Children's Kony 2012 film and campaign. It got a little heated I think, but it was a civil exchange of thoughts and ideas between several wonderful thinkers. I learned from my friends as they shared and was challenged to view all the angles. 

The big picture is complicated. It's not easy. I don't really want to decide for you or try to persuade you to think one way or another about Kony 2012. I honestly want to encourage us to think, to wrestle, to engage in justice issues. The justice you are fighting for might be across the world, or in your own city. What I do know is that whatever freedom we do possess is an immense gift. We can't solve the world's problems, but we might be held responsible if we don't try. 

Last week at Sunday School we discussed the story of the Parable of the Talents. Three men are given money by their master. One buries the money, one spends it, and one grows the money producing more. The master comes back and praises the one that used and grew his talents. The others are shamed.

My favorite thought came from one child who said "Was the master mad that his money got dirty buried in the ground?" I laughed. Good question!

Let's not let our "cash" get dirty.

I thought it over and it's a good picture. I don't want my gifts, my freedom, my education, my voice to get buried in the ground. I want to use these things to bring others into freedom too. 

I have a fair amount of questions and skepticism about whether I will get too involved in the Kony 2012 campaign. Seems to me that the awareness has been built this week without kits and fliers and bracelets. The conversation is good. The awareness is sparking conversation. I think there is value there.  I think it's only part of the story...and I'm not sure everyone jumping in and reposting realizes this. 

I want to involve myself in the messy long term work of justice. I believe that is our call as human beings. I want to ask good questions and engage in what may not be easy to reveal or mire through. 

It's the condition of our hearts that Jesus is always most concerned with. I should not be too interested in worrying about what everyone else's motives are for what they do with the "cash" the master gives them. Seems I'm just accountable for mine. Seems that is how the Invisible Children founders saw fit to spend their talents. 

How will you share your gifts? How will you bring justice, liberation, and redemption to the world around you? There are plenty of places to get to work...the human need is great. 

Standing In Ashes.

This is a piece that I wrote last month for the Newhall Presbyterian Church Lenten Devotional, where I served as their Children's Director from 2003-2007. I left that position and took the position at Malibu Presbyterian in the spring of 2007. Unexpectedly, the next fall on October 21, 2007, the church burned to the ground on Sunday morning.

I walked carefully in my red slip on shoes through the cool ash that was once my new Malibu office. It was only two days since I’d sat on my couch at home on Sunday morning watching it burn to the ground on Channel 4. I heard Pastor Greg warn, “Be careful Kristie!” as we walked through the debris to our offices. There was an eerie silence as we cried numb aching tears and had our first glimpses of the nothingness that was left of the church building. My tears mixed with the dust of black ash landing on my face, it all seemed to mingle together and it tasted like salt and death.

I couldn’t breathe. The air was still thick and orange. I looked at around at this sweet sacred space and I couldn’t believe it.

What are you supposed to do when you find yourself standing in ashes?

I took a bent pipe sticking out of the ashes and began to dig. I prayed “Oh God, just one beautiful thing…could there just be one thing left here???”

I had everything just so on Friday afternoon in my office. My couch, the Sunday school supplies carefully laid out, the pictures and notes I’d pinned to the bulletin board from kids I’d loved over the years. It all felt so robbed from me, taken so swiftly by thick orange flames and the strongest of wind.

And everyone has something to say, and much of it falls so empty when you are standing in ashes.

“This will be a good thing. You’ll see…”

“God just wanted to give you guys a new church building…”

“Maybe God is mad at the church.”

You probably know exactly what I’m talking about. Maybe it hasn’t been a fire that took something important to you, but perhaps it was when a relationship, a job, some sort of security and rhythm that left you with your hands in the ash.  It seems to be woven into the human story like breath and the sunrise, and there aren’t easy answers or fancy theology to explain it all away.

A week later, I laid down on a blanket under some trees in a park. The leaves were turning yellow and the sun was causing them to seem translucent against the dark blue sky. I had no words. I couldn’t even form the words for the questions my soul was asking. I knew I was blaming God in my heart, and the questions needed to make their way out loud. They felt childish to me, but they were real.  Perhaps the Father can handle my childish questions over and over.

Why this building and not that one?

If you are so powerful, then why don’t you stop this pain?

Would a good father do something so horrible?

Did He do it? Or cause it?... and if not isn’t it the same if you allow it?

And I know all of the right answers…they just didn’t seem to fill me up anymore. They seemed trite again. They seemed empty and hollow.

I laid there in stillness and pondered all of these things in my heart as if it was my first moment of honesty and truth after this horrible week. “Here you are…I’ve said it…I sort of blame you. I am pretty confused at the way you move or choose not to!”

In the stillness of those moments under the yellow trees I surrendered. I can’t tell you why. I didn’t get my answers. I just know something deep, I know that God is love and that He is good. I know I don’t understand why all of this pain remains a part of our experience on this earth, but I choose to trust Him anyway.  I choose this grace.

I whispered those words to the sky.  Words I keep learning to say over and over as my life goes through the cycle of ashes to new life like a rhythm, like breathing.

“I trust you.”

And so you see back in the ashes that first day, I found something beautiful. The pipe dug through the ashes and soot, much like the texture of course sand. All of the sudden through my tears I felt the pipe hit something hard. I dug it out. Black and charred, there it was: a piece of a plate. I recognized that it was a small plate from my grandmother’s china. Before the fire, I had put it on my desk to hold my business cards and to remember that I was loved and invested in as a child.  It was a small thing, but there in the ashes a beautiful thing saying that I am loved. I am seen. I am remembered.

God sees our suffering and is with us in it. We are not invisible to Him. This tangled up life of ashes and sunshine is only a beginning. There is so much more to come, and that is my hope.  I hope it is yours too. 

Jesus on the cross reminds me that I need only to “come,”  I don’t have to understand.  I am asked to trust that He is a God of redemption, love, hope and freedom. This God calls us near to Him when churches burn, relationships fall apart, loved ones die and money is not in the bank. We are loved beyond measure and our circumstances do not tell the story of His love, the cross tells that story and I see evidence of it as he puts my life back together each day that I utter a quiet “I trust you.”

You are loved. You are seen. You are remembered.

“I have indeed seen the oppression of my people in Egypt. I have heard their groaning and have come down to set them free…”

Acts 7:34

Lord, help me to trust you even when I don’t understand you. Help me to believe the mystery of this life leads to an eternal redemption so loving my mind can barely comprehend.