Chasing Sunsets

You cannot really chase a sunrise. As you move toward it, it responds in kind, and the two of you become like long-separated loved ones, hurrying toward each other until you meet in the bright embrace of a new dawn. No, if you find yourself chasing the sun… you are likely chasing a sunset.

Lately, I find myself chasing sunsets. Often. I think it began when my momma passed. I remember getting the call on my way up the mountain. I was headed to a leadership retreat when my sister phoned. “She’s going downhill fast. You decide.” I remember crying out to God on that narrow two-lane road.

“Jesus, if You want me to turn around, You have to provide a place.” I was pressed between a steep incline to my right and a raging river to my left. Rounding the next bend, I glimpsed an alcove just large enough to turn the car around. The Spirit confirmed His direction, and I raced down the hill... chasing the sun.

I think my idealistic mind assumed His leading meant we would arrive just at the right time to whisper our sweet affections and have our beautiful, cinematic moment of farewell. But the sun descended as we hit the highway, and just two hours into our frantic journey, we got the message, “Mom passed away at 9:10 pm… so drive careful…no rush.” 

I stood incredulous, staring at the words. It was surreal. I did not truly believe it. For the remainder of the 10-hour drive, I wrestled between sleeplessness and the skittering hope that she wasn’t really gone.

In truth, I am not sure what I had hoped for. We had said our goodbyes each time we had spoken over the last six months. No “I love you” or “I’m so proud of you” was left unuttered. I had been present with her as much as I was able, with the life God has called me to. I had laid in bed with her, held her hands, kissed her forehead, and reminded her what an amazing mother she had been when she expressed fear that she hadn’t done well. There were no regrets. No questions. Yet, it simply was not enough. Like the ache of reaching the horizon only to watch helplessly as the light sinks anyway, the whisper of her spirit disappeared behind the veil - out of my grasp.

I heard a pastor say once that death hurts so much because we were created for life. I believed him. I hold to that truth still. “I am the Way, the truth, and the Life,” Jesus said, “No one comes to the Father except through me” (John 14:6). He is the life. And so I know my mother’s sun has not truly set, for she is present in eternity with THE SON! 

There are days when it feels as though someone has reached in and stripped out a strand of my emotional DNA - like there is a part of me, not gone, but inaccessible for a time. It is a pang that veterans of loss tell me never goes away; we simply learn to live altered. The beauty in my faith, however, and the metaphor God gave us in the science He created is that the sun rises again! Now living with a piece of my heart in eternity or “one foot in heaven” as my sweet friend Sara says it, I so much more appreciate the symbols of the heavens. 

The moon is an effulgent reflection of the true light we long for. The stars are a glittering indication of and drawing to all that awaits beyond. This life is the night, but the Son will dawn again. “And there will no longer be any night; and they will not have need of the light of a lamp nor the light of the sun, because the Lord God will illumine them; and they will reign forever and ever” (Revelation 22:5 NASB).

As I have taken to chasing sunsets, God has brought back to me a sweet memory of my mom. I was about three or four years old, and we were at the family camp we attended each year. The buildings of the camp are constructed all throughout the elevations of the land which is nestled in the Black Hills. My mom had dropped me off at the children’s class to be occupied while she and dad attended the evening service. I recall I watched as she walked the path of the red-clay hill toward the tabernacle, and I began to panic. With resolute silence, I tried to follow her. I would have succeeded too, had not a pesky, responsible, teenage helper snatched me up and returned me to the children’s building. I remember the image of my mother’s back as she ascended - unaware of my heartache - totally focused on her necessary destination.

Nearly forty years later, I can return so easily to the emotion of that tiny heart. I find myself behind the wheel of my car, often driving south and west in pursuit of the fading light, and it feels like I am seeking to follow her up the path. As I sit on whichever distant hill I can reach, my precious Savior meets me in that space - the only one who can see both her soul and mine. As we tarry there, watching the dimming light - He whispers to me of bloodlines and generations, both spiritual and physical, the tapestry of an eternal Kingdom I can neither see nor grasp… barely glimpse. Before I turn the car around and head back toward the emerging of the stars and the moon, I consider this. Just as I grew to meet her in places of womanhood and motherhood, and even climbed that very red-clay path as a mom myself, I will one day grow to ascend the hill on which she has preceded me. I think back upon missing her “sunset” and realize with assurance that we did not arrive too late. She did not need me there. She saw where she was going. She knew into Whose arms she ran. She had finished her good work on this side of eternity, and she ascended with confidence toward her eternal sunrise. And in that thought is a great joy. There is a time coming when our hearts will no longer be inaccessible to each other. And on that day, I will have no more need for chasing sunsets.

Jesus Goes to Garage Sales

Garage sales and I have a love/hate relationship.

I LOVE to GO to them. Dusty and I furnished our first home via garage sales. They tickle my fancy for adventure and discovery. Donuts are often involved. They have helped me navigate and discover new cities when we move. They are fun, family-bonding time, and we run into all sorts of new friends.

I like the IDEA of having them. I like to get rid of stuff (so much stuff). I like the idea of money for things I wish we'd never bought. Ha! You with me on that?

However, the REALITY of having a garage sale feels much like most women say they feel when they know their mother-in-law is coming over. (Thankfully, I have the most gracious, amazing, non-judgey mothers-in-law, so I only have to feel this level of anxiety when I'm dumb enough to have a garage sale).

It really shouldn't be such a big deal. But I am me. There is a weird level of rejection when people drive by but decide you're not worthy of a stop. (We totally do this too, by the way.) There is an awkward feeling of conflict when I have to decide if I'd rather take someone's offer and sell the dumb thing or try to put it on eBay. There is a twinge of failure when I load up the left overs to take them to the nearest thrift store. Yes, I am CLEARLY too sensitive, but that is the way Jesus made me.

Even so, I talked myself into taking part in our neighborhood sale again this year.

The outcome wasn't much different. The anxiety was annoyingly apparent in my soul. And yet, this was the best garage sale I've ever had - despite the fact that I made about $50.

It's been a tough year. There has been a lot of illness, loss, and difficulty, both in our family and for those we love and to whom we minister. As an empathizer and an intercessor, sometimes I can forget to release all of that burden to Jesus. I can allow it to take me to heavy places.

It was in an anxious, heavy mindset that I sat behind my little table and chatted with Garage Sale Jenny about books and journals. After she paid for her new-found treasures, she handed me a colorful, laminated scripture card.

"I make these and give them to people," she smiled. "I also give out my brother's book." She handed me a copy of a thin volume entitled, Skies are Not Cloudy all Day. I began to sense that God had led sweet Jenny to my dreary little sale.

I told her how GREAT both gifts were. She shared a tiny snippet of her brother's story. I mentioned that my husband and I were in ministry.

"I just feel such a spirit of refreshing from you," she exulted, and I suddenly could not hold back the tears. I relayed to sweet Jenny the name plate my parents had given me as a child. "Tammi - Refreshing One" it reads. It still hangs in my laundry room. However, as of late I feel anything but refreshing. "I can feel the Spirit moving," she whispered, "It was so nice to meet you." We shook hands once more, she uttered words about ministry and the power of God and walked back to her car.

The rest of my sale time was spent flipping through the pages of the book and nestling, awestruck into the heart of my Savior - a God who loves me so much that He sees me in heavy, broken places. And even as I am holding burdens I know better than to carry, He sends me Jenny to say, "I see you. I know you by name. You are still my refreshing one. You are still mine."

Your heaviness and broken places are, no doubt, different than mine. They may even be dismal and feel unbearable. Even so, I know that He sees you and knows you where you are (Read Psalm 139 if you have forgotten ;). His Word says He will meet you in those places - when you've forgotten the call, forgotten the vision, forgotten your name - and He will BE WITH YOU (Isaiah 43:2). ~Immanuel - God WITH us~

I encourage you to find a quiet place in the presence of the One who formed you and loves you. Ask Him to remind you of His call, His vision, His heart for your life. Ask Him to show you how He has BEEN and is BEING with you in the midst of your current struggle. Then ask Him to remind you whose you are. You are not alone. You are not forgotten. You are not abandoned. Jesus is here for you - yes, even in the unease of a garage sale.

The Mary and Martha in Me

Passage of Scripture Luke 10:38-42. (It’s much shorter than this devotional. Go read it! You won’t regret it!)

If you have attended a church for any length of time or graced a Christian women’s event with your presence, you have likely heard at least one discussion about Mary and Martha. If not, I encourage you to pause and go read the story. The Bible is an amazing, living, active, love story from a Holy God to His beloved people… actually, even if you have read it, you should read it again. His word is just that good.

OK, welcome back! You see, what we so often hear is that Martha was person A (workaholic, control freak, world focused, crabby) and Mary was person B (balanced, Jesus-focused, yielding, eternity-seeing, peace-filled). We somehow come to pity Martha (at best) and pray we can be Mary. However, when I read this tiny passage and His other accounts with the girls, I don’t believe Jesus saw these precious sisters in the light we so often paint them.

We all have Mary and Martha within us. We all carry a mixed array of characteristics like those used to describe the sisters above. And, as he did with them, Jesus desires to show us where “good” is often the enemy of “the best.” Like so many of our battles as women, the battle of Mary and Martha is truly a battle of identity.

Mary and Martha - sisters of Lazarus, supporters of Jesus’ ministry and his disciples, women of God. I believe we too often simply label it as a matter of “DO-ER” or “BE-ER”. While that is undoubtedly a component, we have to dig deeper. Answer this question: Was Martha sinning by making dinner preparations for Jesus and the men? If you sit in that for a moment, I imagine you will realize the answer is a resounding “no”. People “gotta” eat! Hospitality is something actually commanded in both the Old and New Testaments (Leviticus 19; Isaiah 58:7; 1 Peter 4:8-9). Hm. So, if “DOING” was not Martha’s error, what was it? Let’s see what Jesus says.

She comes to Him, frantic, shaken, desperate, and, yes, crabby, and asks Him to motivate her lazy, lounging sis. To which He replies, “Martha, Martha, you are worried and bothered about so many things; but only one thing is necessary, for Mary has chosen what is better, and it will not be taken away from her.” AGGHHH! I love the words of sweet Jesus here! I see three powerful things. Let’s look at them.

1. Jesus SAW Martha. He calls her name twice. Biblically, is not the nature of Jesus to be condescending or scolding (unless he’s talking to arrogant Pharisees), so it is more likely that he was comforting or reassuring her. My kiddos deal with a bit of anxiety. It’s not drama they use to gain control (even when it feels that way), it is genuine fear they have not yet learned to troubleshoot. When they come to me with these anxieties, do I shout their names repeatedly and chide them for having childish fear? I do not. I often take their faces in my hands, place my hands on their shoulders, or even wrap them up entirely and speak gentle, reassuring truth over them. Now, if I as a broken, human mama can give that good gift to my children, is it not safe to assume Jesus could do far better? I hear Him saying her name with gentle assurance - and again, to emphasize to her that He saw her, heard her, and it was going to be ok. Oh how often I have heard him address me thus - in my frantic worrying, “Tammi, Tammi…”

2. Jesus SPEAKS TRUTH to her IDENTITY CRISIS. Does Jesus say, “You’re working to much! Why in the world are you trying to feed us?” Nope! He says, “You are worried and bothered.” Why was she worried and bothered? Was it likely that people weren’t going to get fed? Probably not - it seems as though they had the provisions. Rather, as so often happens within us, Martha was worried about what the timing and excellence of the meal were going to say about her as a hostess. She was afraid of being judged. It was not her DOING that was her error but the fact that she was letting the DOING define her IDENTITY. It is similar for you and me. God doesn’t want you to stop feeding your kids, cleaning your house, going to work, or volunteering, per se. It is when we start finding our value, our worth, or our  joy in that doing instead of in COMMUNION WITH HIM that we become frantic, worried and bothered about many things. Do you wonder if your identity is in HIM or something else? Think about the places you invest most of your time. What would happen if those areas suddenly experienced change? What happens when the rules shift, when your performance review is low, when your relationships are tense, when someone else takes over that thing you’ve been doing for so long? Is your first response to sit at Jesus’ feet? Or do you run at Him with a wagging finger of accusation? (Fret not, beloved. He loves you and will meet you in either place you find yourself.)

3. Jesus shows her the BEST. Jesus then tells Martha that Mary has chosen the good part. Again, do we think it was because she was sitting at His feet? Figuratively I would say yes. However, I don’t believe just posturing ourselves before God is what Jesus calls better. We can come before God every moment of every day, but if our hearts are not submitted to Him, we are not likely to experience transformation - not quickly anyway. Mary’s identity was not in what she was doing. Mary’s identity was found in her being - existing - communing - being known by her Savior and her Creator. I have seen women who are immensely efficient DO-ers yet still exude a powerful peace because their identities are not found in the outcome or process of what they do. Their identities are found in Christ. Likewise, I know many women who can BE with great conviction - yet they do not always bear a presence of peace or contentment. Their identity may be found in NOT DOING - but it is not the best way. Jesus says, “It will not be taken from her.” Of course, we know Mary would get up again. She would not always be seated at Jesus’ feet. So what was not to be taken from her? It was the security and peace of her identity being found in Christ.

Can we sit in this truth for a moment? It’s not the value of what I DO that determines my worth. Rather, it is my value IN CHRIST that gives worth to what I do.

Action Steps:
1. Practice SEEKING God. If He SEES us, shouldn't we SEEK Him? I hear many women complain they do not hear God. I was 18 before I recognized the voice of God in my heart. That was after a lifetime of being drenched in scripture and Biblical teaching by my parents. It was on a beach in Mexico, in a moment of desperation and at a precipice of obedience that I was finally quiet and surrendered enough to hear. God is faithful. He says in Jeremiah 29:13 “You will seek me and find me when you seek me with all your heart.” Start with 10 minutes a day praying and listening. Seek discipleship with a women who knows His voice. Ask Him to help you seek with all your heart.

2. Hide the TRUTH (of His Word) in your heart. Psalm 119:11 says “I have treasured Your Word in my heart that I might not sin against you.” How many of us would go days on end without eating? Our bodies and minds do not function at capacity if we are not giving them continual and proper nourishment. Why do we think it should be different with our eternal selves? Jesus said (TO SATAN, MIND YOU), “Man shall not live by bread alone, but by every word that comes forth from the mouth of God.” WHOO! My spirit needs the bread of God’s Word to be nourished and functional. If Jesus needed it, I probably do too. Not only that, but as we treasure up God’s Word in our hearts, the Spirit begins to use it to speak to REMIND us of our IDENTITY in Him. When I hear from the Spirit, it is most often His quiet voice breathing God’s Word over whatever situation I am currently facing. If I were not hiding His Word in my heart, I might not recognize His language when He spoke it.

3. Act from the BEST place. When we have sat at His feet and are nourished in His Word, we can choose what is better, and it won’t be taken from us. Check this out:

Readjusting our identity is not an easy thing. It requires intention and is a continual process. The good news is, if we will surrender the Spirit does the bulk of the heavy lifting. (yay)

Let’s Pray: Jesus, we want to be found in You. We want to be yours - to find our spirits in peace at your feet, to hear You whisper our names and speak eternal truth and purpose over us. It is such a battle in our “produce-to-be-valuable” culture and with our endless responsibilities as women to be sure our identity is in YOU and not the opinions of others or the outcomes of our work. We know work is good and necessary. Help us find the balance of being found in you FIRST and working for you AFTER. Help us to choose the better way. We love you. Amen.

Blessings and Promises (Welcome 2016!)

It’s the first year in my life I can remember taking down Christmas before January 1st. I usually fight to bask in the glow of our soft, white lights well into the new year, but this time it just felt right to move forward.

So, the boys gleefully plucked each ornament from its dangling perch, and I wrapped, padded and nestled them delicately into their places of rest - every glittery one an ebenezer to a year we’ve been graced to live this side of eternity, to grow as a family.

And 2015 was another blessing. We celebrated the first birthday of our little Taelyn and each milestone before and after. She finds great joy in soliciting delight from others, and is also full of fire. “Taelyn-osaurus-rex” and “The Destroyer” are just a couple of the pseudonyms her brothers have lovingly bestowed upon her.

Dezdin turned seven with great delight! He adores being in school all day and wrings every ounce he can out of discovery and learning. And humor. EVERYTHING is funny to this kid.

Draes turned eight this year, and continues his quest for what is right and good. He might be on his own personal mission to end bullying… He is tender, warm, and sees the good in everyone.

Daxton turned TWELVE this year, and we are quite certain this will be his LAST year looking UP at mom. ~SIGH~ He is growing in so many ways, and it’s amazing to watch his heart as it is drawn to the things of God and the needs of others.

We were able to see my Dad honored and officially retired from vocational ministry this summer as well as rejoicing with my parents in their FIFTIETH wedding anniversary!

We were excited to be with Dusty's parents as he conquered another decade this year (SUCH a champion)! We celebrated EIGHTEEN crazy years of marriage (almost half of our lives!)

It was also amazing to watch Revive turn ONE, and I cannot adequately put into words our love for that community of believers. Father is so good to pour His grace through each of us and allow us to give grace to one another. It is a beautiful thing.

It really has been an amazing year. God provides in ways we do not deserve. Each moment, memory, and milestone is an ornament that reminds us, “This far God has helped us.”

And I think that is why the reality of 2016 is so inviting. Our world is not a certain place. Our time is not promised. Only our God is sure. So even if things grow darker, I believe the Light will shine. Even if wickedness abounds, I believe His Love will not grow cold within those who call upon His Name. 

The blessings of the past we celebrate because they point us to the Promise of the future. I believe His Name is Yeshuah, and I pray we may know Him more in the coming year. Grace and Peace to you in His love.

Tammi (for the Taylors)

The River and the Chainsaw

I love the Bible. Every time I read it, I discover a new secret about God and His heart for His creation that had previously eluded me.

So it follows that I get ridiculously excited to share and process God's Word with my kids. This week we have been memorizing and discussing Ephesians 4:29, "Do not let any unwholesome talk come out of your mouths, but only what is helpful for building others up according to their needs, that it may benefit those who listen." 

I learned this year that the impulse section of our brains ("fight or flight," "my way or the highway," etc) is fully developed by age TWO. Our frontal cortex, however, (the impulse-managing-rational-choice-making-is-this-a-good-idea section) can reach full development as late as TWENTY-FIVE!! 
Thus, while I'm not so idealistic as to believe it will be a fully-functional strategy with my kiddos for some time we do want them to have the practical foundation. So we memorize and discuss. And - as is common - they blow my mind. 

Dezdin: "So, when we use kind words, we're kind of like the river that runs along the roots. But when we use hurtful words we're like the chainsaw."

There had been no discussion of trees up to that point, but all at once our little six-year-old had painted a powerful picture of the effect words have. And I was convicted. My thoughts had been on the external - keeping focus on using light words and not heavy. Dez, though, cut straight to the truth of the matter - how our words impact the soul. If the heart of our words is to build others up, we are like the river that refreshes and nourishes the roots of the tree and brings growth. If, however, the heart of our words is pride and selfish gain (being wise in our own eyes, putting others in their place, etc), we become the chainsaw that cuts them off at the stump. Can they grow back? Yes. But it can take years to recover from a comment that levels the soul. Have you found that to be true?

I turned the focus of our thinking from, "What words are we saying?" to "What are my words DO-ing?" As we get loaded in the car, walk through the grocery store, get ready for bed, clean up the table and on and on and on - am I the river or am I the chainsaw? Oh, Jesus, let me be the river!

Spirit, put a guard on our mouths, that we can love in word and action. That the fruit of our lips is truth in love and grace in all. Let us nourish the seed You have planted, and may the heart of our words be love!

Postscript: Today some harsh words were begin exchanged...
mom: "Hey bud, that tone is kind of rough."
brother 1: "I'm sorry I chainsawed you. You're a really great brother."
brother 2: "I'm sorry I chainsawed you too. You're a really great brother."
Then they commenced dancing around the room like growing trees. I love how God waters the seeds He's planting!

Overwhelming...2014 in Review

Greetings Friends and Family!

Wow! It has been quite a year. We bid 2013 farewell with the happy news that we were expecting baby number 4! Then 2014 came in like a flood...

In January, we found out our little would be a girl, but that she had a condition called polydactyly - which could mean as little as extra digits and as much as only surviving hours outside the womb. For months we prayed, wrestled and waited surrendering to the sovereign heart of God again and again. It was, in a word, overwhelming.

In May, as we waited for our daughter’s arrival, my (Tammi’s) mom landed in the hospital with stomach pain. Exploratory surgery discovered stage 3, peritoneal mesothelioma. Originally, they gave her 4 to 6 months to live. It was devastating, overwhelming. 

During that same time, a pastor and friend of ours approached Dusty about merging our two church plants. He and his wife had been called to the mission field and did not want to leave their grace-filled community in the hands of just “any normal pastor” (I believe that’s how he put it. Ha ha!) Combining churches, visions, people...? Overwhelming.

How often do so many of us find ourselves - as we walk this life - in similar situations with circumstances and questions so daunting we scarcely know how to step, let alone survive? We pursue happiness praying it will bring with it the joy that staves off despair only to discover that trial always seems to find us. How grateful I am, when I consider the life of Jesus, that He was no stranger to the overwhelming nature of this life. 

Think of the circumstances surrounding his arrival: A mother with a highly suspect explanation for how she could be a virgin and “with child” simultaneously. A betrothed with an equally implausible argument as to why he was standing by his girl. An unlikely audience of shepherds composing terror at the sight of heavenly messengers (Oh to be thus terrified!). And a delivery, surrounded by livestock and hay! We sing “Silent Night,” but I dare say...overwhelming.

Then consider the state of his departure: Falsely accused. Wrongly convicted in unlawful trials. Abandoned by those who swore devotion. Cursed on a tree even in His innocence. Broken for those whose sin demanded his life as ransom for their redemption. OVERWHELMING.

And when we sit with him in the quiet of our desperation and become, as He was, acquainted with sorrows, our hearts are suddenly permitted to draw further in to His heart. We taste sweeter the peace of His presence. We are filled more deeply from the well of His love. And His strength is made perfect in our weakness. 

Life can feel and be overwhelming. Sometimes we are struck by and must stop in the enormity of its moments. And yet life does not stop moving, and God does not stop sustaining, amazing and, yes, overwhelming - by his goodness, his comfort, his assurance, his grace and his love. 

Our little Taelyn entered this life on May 15th, healthier than we had dared hope. She had extra digits on three appendages, but no other complications. She is growing, learning and lighting all of our lives. OVERWHELMING!

My mom got a second opinion at MD Anderson in Houston and qualified for radical surgery. On July 23rd, she underwent a ten-hour procedure which extended her prognosis from a few months to 8 to 15 YEARS! Her journey has opened a new door for her to minister to others with cancer. She has introduced several hopeless people to MD Anderson where they, too, have found greater victory over the disease. OVERWHELMING!

In August, two little church plants started holding services together. In September, Revive Church launched anew: two stories, two backgrounds, two hearts becoming one just as the Lord our God is ONE! I have been amazed and healed as I watch this group of people extend such grace and hope toward one another. God continues to say, “Keep watching! I’m going to do things you have never seen and could scarcely imagine!” OVERWHELMING!

In the midst of all that, Dax turned 11 this year. He is in 5th grade, almost as tall as I and growing into such a young man. He has been a life-saver with Miss Taelyn. During all the crazy and transition, he has stepped up to help both his dad and I carry the load. He is such a great big brother (I call him my “manny”), and his sister adores him. It has been fun watching his heart for the Lord grow. He reads his Bible independently and applies the stories he’s read to situations we face. That’s been cool!

Draes turned 7 in June and is in 2nd grade. He continues to blow our minds with his compassionate servant’s heart. We were overjoyed when he chose to be baptized this year in Revive’s first baptism service! His passion for justice and truth is a bright spot in the world. Once recently, as we were discussing whether it was the best choice to give money to people panhandling, he quickly decided we should build them a house and give them his bed instead. It’s pretty humbling to raise such a kid.

Dezdin turned 6 in November and couldn’t be more proud. He is all humor and logic, so when I get little stick figure drawings with hearts, the “I love you” sign or he asks for a snuggle, I soak it up. He is thriving in Kindergarten and seems to have found his niche in school. His greatest goal, currently, is to get to first grade so he can eat lunch at school like his brothers. “Mom, how many days ‘til I’m in first grade?” is a weekly question. He constantly causes me to shift my perspective and see the world from a new angle.

Taelyn is 7 months old as I write this. She is beginning to push up on her knees, but not sitting or crawling yet. I have a sneaking suspicion once she starts moving, I won’t ever get to stop. She loves people and the din that surrounds them. It’s a beautiful thing to watch her place her fully-extended, six-fingered hand against someone’s cheek and bury her head into their neck. As her name intended, she seems to bring beauty and light wherever she goes. We are humbled and grateful to know her.

Dusty... ha ha, well, I say it every year, but he continues to spin circles around us! He remained rock solid through all the questions surrounding Tae, my mom’s cancer, and - with the great help of the Holy Spirit, our friend Dennis and the amazing people of Revive - navigated a merger this year! I’m always amazed at the sheer amount of what he can shoulder.

Alas, I (Tam) cannot measure my accomplishments by completions (unless you count mounds of diapers changed, meals consumed, dishes done, loads of clothing laundered or tender, loving moments shared. :) But the Lord never lets me far from His assurance that this is an important job, and that he handpicked me to be heart and hand for this not-so-little family. My prayer is that you can embrace the same assurance for your current season of life.

So as another year closes - a blip on the radar of our loving Father’s eternity - I feel compelled to rejoice and give glory to our OVERWHELMING GOD! Because His “overwhelming” overpowers all the circumstances of this life. 

I leave you with HIS indelible words: “I have told you these things so that you will have peace. In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world.” John 16:33

Virago

One of my screen savers is a succession of floating vocabulary words. Lovely letter combinations in fading shades of blue and white cascade across the screen, one stopping now and again to be joined by its dictionary definition. Who doesn’t need to expand their vocabulary, right?

One particular morning the defined word resting in view when I sat down was “Virago.” It is defined as follows:

vi·ra·go

vəˈrägō,-ˈrā-/

noun

noun: virago; plural noun: viragoes; plural noun: viragos

1. a domineering, violent, or bad-tempered woman.

   synonyms:

   harridan, shrew, dragon, termagant, vixen; More

   • archaic

     a woman of masculine strength or spirit; a female warrior.

Origin

Old English (used only as the name given by Adam to Eve, following the Vulgate), from Latin, ‘heroic woman, female warrior,’ from vir ‘man.’ 

The initial definition saddened me. Do you ever feel that way, like a “domineering, violent, or bad-tempered woman”? I do - more often in my own mind than out, I hope. But in or out, the masked spirit is still ugly. 

But it was the deeper definition that struck a cord. In its origin, THIS was the word given to Eve BY Adam Vir ‘man’ - originally it meant a heroic woman, a female warrior. My English version of the Bible says he named her this because she would be the mother of all living. It takes a hero, a woman warrior to mother all of humanity - ha even ONE of humanity. 

Can you imagine this definition? Can you embrace it? Envisioning us at the beginning of beautiful creation, before we had fallen to the first of many missteps in which we would trust our own minds over the heart of God?

And is it that action, the taking of matters into our own minds, into our own hands, that transforms us from “heroic, woman warrior” to the harpy creature defined as “domineering, violent and bad-tempered”?

My prayer is that as I daily submit my heart and mind back to the One who designed it, like Gomer choosing finally and forever to stay faithful to Hosea, my heart and countenance will shed their warts and rantings, letting them fade into the lovely, yet fierce image of a woman at the dawn of creation. The crown jewel of all God had made. 

Who knew vocabulary could lead to spiritual transformation?!