It's time to pull up your chair. Do you know you have one here in this space we call Soli Deo Gloria? You do. It's reserved every week only for you. This place would be different if you weren't here and we miss you when you are gone. This is a place filled with women who seek to honor your words, you heart, your tears, and your laughter. Scooch in close. You won't want to miss a word.
To read more about the Soli Deo Gloria community, please click here. oh! and we now have a mission statement -- check out the SDG page!
We have a tree that stands tall in our backyard that our neighbors gave us. We hired a company to transplant it from their backyard to ours and then we all just crossed our fingers and hope it would survive the brutal Texas summers. One never knows if the established tree will do well in a new environment and for awhile we weren't sure if it was going to make it. It's a Red Oak tree, which means it loses its leaves in the fall and stands barren all winter. When spring rolls around, it's always one of the last to show its buds. Every spring, I hold my breath, wondering if has any life left inside it.
Every year, it becomes nature's manifestation to me of hope on a tree.
I feel like that tree in the dead of winter. Although He knows that life courses through my veins, I stand there looking at myself, wondering if I have the strength to bloom.
It's not that I'm tired or overwhelmed with the scope of my life. In actuality, I am overjoyed about the SDG small groups, the retreat, my new class next fall. I've been more intentional about my parenting and fostering a relationship with my kids (um, well, except for this morning). It's more that my heart and mind seem to have flashed back in time and these old behaviors and irrational thoughts that I thought I had left in the dust years and months ago have taken over the truth that I KNOW is alive and active in my heart.
I've started unplugging the toaster again.
I've started driving and then had to turn around to make sure my front door was locked.
I've become a militant dictator about our budget.
I've been super controlling about the amount/types of food my children eat.
The root of all this is fear, which drives me absolutely insane because the last decade of my life has been all about the CASTING OUT OF FEAR.
If I continue on this path, I will be making decisions while standing on shifting sand. I will operate out of the desperate need to control, shackling myself in the bondage of over-planning and self-reliance. Every gift will taste bitter because I will be looking for what came before and after, weighing myself on merits and obligations and lack.
I imagine God's heart, soft as a white down pillow and I desire to press in. To be enfolded into His endless love, grace, and mercy. To lay this fear, this irrationality, this idea of self-sufficiency at the foot of the cross. To look up, at Hope on a tree, and realize that I am no longer bound, but that I am free.
"But I am trusting in You, O LORD,
saying 'You are my God!'
My future is in Your hands.
Rescue from those who hunt me down relentlessly.
Let Your favor shine down upon Your servant.
In Your unfailing love, rescue me."
Psalm 31: 14-16, NLT
|the tree today|