We’d just stepped from the chilly ICU, past the detailed nativity (minus a baby Jesus), and into a frosty, December 5th sunrise. Sun was just peeking above the horizon, but those rays shone pillars of hope. Someone handed me a plastic cup of orange juice that felt like glory in a cup, a little bit of life.
The night past had been the longest night of my life and felt like a living, breathing nightmare. Only this one truly was real, and I couldn’t wake up. And he hadn’t woken up—yet. He still had a ventilator tube down his throat and a heart that had literally been in a surgeon’s very own hands a couple hours before.
I went back to take a picture when baby Jesus finally arrived
He’d called me at work, confused, the night before, expressing some strange symptoms. Two clinics and two hospitals later, I kissed him goodbye as the surgical team wheeled him away. Dr. R showed us the images—a severely dissected (ruptured) thoracic aortic aneurysm—and shared how he wasn’t hopeful he’d be able to repair it. I still can see him rolling out of sight—my love, my future, my dreams, my man, all rolled into that bleak OR.
Family and friends gathered, chatting, and ordered food. I didn’t understand how anyone could even entertain the possibility of eating. My stomach, nerves, and chest were so tight, even trying to choke down water was impossible. Instead I wrote a long letter to him, and I prayed. And prayed. And begged. And bargained.
And against all odds, my God heard. He heard, y’all. He had a plan and purpose that transcended all those disbelieving that my Rudy would survive. My God was in that OR eleven years ago guiding Dr. R’s hands, literally cradling my love’s heart. There were complications, yes, but none were too hard or too big or too severe for God.
That baby Jesus wasn’t in the manger yet because aneurysm surgery was all through the night of December 4th. He hadn’t yet arrived. So I imagine, for me, that nightmarish night felt kind of like those ancient people who hadn’t heard from God in so, so long, and they were aching with anticipation and expectation. And with His arrival, all of heaven and creation rejoiced. Then I imagine, for me, that felt a bit like seeing that sunrise of hope after hearing the surgical team share how much worse the aneurysm was than first thought, but that surgery was a success! Because I knew, I knew, Who was in that room, holding Rudy’s heart, breathing life into his lungs, and already smiling about the future years.
December 5, 2014, Rudy had planned to take me to see The Nutcracker Ballet. And, that is one of the first things he remembered after waking up—that he’d be unable to take me. My sister, Leah, bought The Nutcracker on DVD, and Rudy and I (okay, mostly me because he was so medicated) watched it in his ICU room. Because he’s Rudy and very persistent and thorough, he called the box office and explained the situation. They generously gave us tickets for the following year.
And you know what, we went! Rudy, himself, made it out of the chilly ICU, down into a drab step-down room, past the baby Jesus-less manger scene, and into the frosty December, his future, and our life. Since his aneurysm, we’ve made it a point to go see The Nutcracker Ballet every year as a celebration tradition. That year following aneurysm surgery that the ballet so generously provided for? That year, Lily went along in my pregnant belly. God had a plan, and His plan was so good!
This year, the 11th anniversary, we opted to stay home and watch the ballet online due to Bentley’s declining health. Lily and I planned and decorated. We made homemade tomato soup and jalapeño cheddar sourdough. Each of us painted a nutcracker. Being together, celebrating life was, and is, so sacred.
Oh—and we had little teacups of orange juice. Sunshine. Hope.
Have you ever had a temper tantrum directed at God? I have. Recently. Not even a week ago, actually. It wasn’t pretty, and it was a humbling experience for sure—a bit King David-esque. Let me share my story with you because God beautifully displayed His love and redemption and grace.
Let’s rewind a bit to last Wednesday, September 10, 2025, the day Charlie Kirk was so brutally assassinated. That morning was when I first became aware of Iryna Zarutska’s horrific murder. Seeing the footage both shocked and moved me. I couldn’t get the images out of my mind. Then, a news alert on my phone requesting prayer for Charlie Kirk because he’d been shot. All day, I was glued to the news, my heart aching, trying to understand. Then another school shooting. All the while grieving the 2nd anniversary of my grandpa’s death. I couldn’t sleep well that night, all the images looping constantly through my mind, only to wake to the 24th anniversary of 9/11. My emotions were feral almost. We decided to skip school (flexibility is such a blessing with homeschooling) and just try to process together.
That night, I had plans to go to THAT GIRL. Conference at my church, Northview Church. Rudy’d bought my ticket for Mother’s Day, and I’d been looking forward to this event all year. Charlotte Gambill was to teach and Hope Darst lead worship—what an incredible team! But with my emotions so out of control, I didn’t want to move, much less get ready and join 2,000 other women. Just getting dressed seemed excruciating, but I got ready, headed to the event since Rudy had given me the ticket. . . only to get stuck in traffic! If you know me well, you’ll understand that I DO NOT like to be late. At all. And traffic just wasn’t budging. So, I decided to go a different route, only to get stuck again. Then a detour where I got lost, and a u-turn right back to where I was, and I was praying all the while:
Abba, would You please save me a seat? And would you please save one for You right next to me? Please!
Finally, I arrived at church to a wildly packed-out parking lot, and this introvert-girl’s heart sank. I walked to the doors, stood nervously in line on the verge of tears, and waited my turn. The lady greeted me with a big, warm smile—and asked to scan my QR code. QR code? What QR code? I stood to the side to find the email with the ticket. . . but we’d recently switched cell carriers, and my email app wouldn’t allow me to sign in. And those pent-up, frustrated, nervous tears began to fall. Y’all, I was so embarrassed. And mad. I called Rudy and asked him to again forward me the ticket information, but he couldn’t find it. By now, those tears are streaming and people are noticing. Feeling there was nothing else, we could do, I started walking back to my little car. Eyes and cheeks black from smudged teary mascara, I stormed into the Throne Room, stomped my feet, and pounded my fists on my Abba-God’s chest.
I asked You to save me a seat! And save You one next to me! And You didn’t even let me have a seat at all!!!Do You not even care?
I was well on my way back home, when Rudy called me. He’d so thoughtfully contacted a leader at church and explained the situation. That friend had informed the event leader, who looked up and found my ticket and information. Rudy suggested I turn back around and try again because they’d resolved the problem. And I did. And guess what? God made a way. But that’s not the end of the story, not even close.
I walked in to a sea of ladies. So. Many. People. The lines for different shopping areas were wrapped around rooms, so I walked into the auditorium and was overwhelmed by how filled the space was. Seeing a few seats open near the front where I usually sit, I swiftly headed that direction—to discover cardigans and handbags saving the seats. Upon asking, I repeatedly heard the same answer, “yes, saved…yes, I’m saving these.” And the panic began to rise. Then, a different answer, “I have these saved, but there are a couple left at the end of the row.” Walking to the indicated seats, I noticed an open section a couple rows up, so sat at the end there. Minutes later, I heard the lady sitting directly in front of me say that the 3 seats next to her were available—and there were no seats in front of those! Wide open space! So, up I moved, thanking God for my seat. But the story still isn’t done.
Three sweet ladies came to sit next to me, and another lady sat on the other side of me. Worship began, and my soul quieted. I barely noticed the lady directly to my right moving down a few seats. We were in Abba’s presence, and this time, I approached the Throne Room much differently. My heart was so focused on praise and gratitude, that it wasn’t until halfway through the worship set, that Holy Spirit whispered to me:
See? I saved you a seat, a seat where you’d feel safe. And, look, I saved mine right next to you. I didn’t forget you; I had everything perfectly planned.
Abba seat 8, Lalia seat 9
Humbling for sure, but I couldn’t help but smile—and snap a picture. You see, that auditorium was packed for a sold-out event, and my God saved me a seat exactly where He knew I’d feel less anxious. And He saved His right next to me. . . for the entire event.
Hope Darst and Northview Worship
Now, that may not mean much to you, but that seat, that gesture, that miracle meant everything to me. The precise, tender care of God is extraordinary, as is the love and mercy He showed me after my tantrum. Y’all, His love is immeasurable. Again, the story doesn’t stop here.
Charlotte Gambill
Charlotte Gambill taught the exact message that I needed to hear, using some of the same verses God has been bringing up over and over to me. Coincidence? I don’t think so. I believe the enemy knew what that service held for me, the ways I’d experience God and his faithfulness, and tried to sabotage that. But God, in His abundant generosity, orchestrated what seemed impossible into the miraculous possible so that His daughter could know she’s loved and He is worthy of her trust.
The enemy very easily could have won. My frustration, anger, and disappointment were fueling some very unChristlike behavior. The last thing I wanted to do was turn around and possibly go through the same experience, but I had to lay down my pride. I had to surrender. I had to turn from my destructive ways and face God in humility and repentance. 2 Chronicles 7:14 outlines this surrender and redemption, “…if my people who are called by my name humble themselves, and pray and seek my face and turn from their wicked ways, then I will hear from heaven and will forgive their sin and heal their land” (ESV). Forgiveness and healing begin with humility plus repentance. God didn’t have to provide for my seat-saving request, but He chose to—that’s grace. Sometimes the real freedom is in surrender.
As soon as I walked from my bedroom into the hallway, I could smell that fresh, earthy scent of green peppers. Ruby again. Our seven month old puppy sneaks into my garden, picks green bell peppers, and eats them raw while leaving the seeds behind. She’d been out early this morning snacking on peppers and bringing leftovers in the house. In the middle of my prayer time, I wandered through the garden, picking peppers before Ruby could eat them all. And there in the garden was so much life and growth and beauty that my frustration turned into a blessing.
My morning garden-walk with God reminded me of the first time we meet God—in a garden! Eden. And then my thoughts drifted to where we find Jesus the night before His crucifixion—in a garden! Gethsemane. And then I thought of being beside my grandmother as she breathed her first breath—in a garden! Heaven. Her four children, Lily, and I surrounded her bed, singing her favorite song together, In the Garden, as she entered heaven. Maw-Maw’s hospital window looked out into a prayer garden, with a cross visible from her bed. Lily and I found hours of solace there. Roses, gardenias, and other plants bordered the prayer path we spent hours pacing. That my God would curate such a beautiful, meaningful place for Maw-Maw to leave earth and enter heaven astounded me. He is more generous and loving than we could ever imagine.
I’ve been quiet about my grandmother’s death for a lot of reasons. Her passing was something I’d been dreading since childhood. I dearly loved my grandma, and there just haven’t been words to process her loss yet. There’s a precious little bond that I treasure though: Maw-Maw was present as I drew my first-ever breath, and I was honored to be present as she drew her last breath. Though the grief process has been long and silent, God has sustained me. He’s been my Rock, never failing to remind me that He sees me, He hears me, and He knows (2 Kings 20:5 “I have heard your prayer; I have seen your tears. Behold, I will heal you.”). And so many of those reminders come while I’m tending my gardens—the tiger lilies, the yellow roses, the peas, the okra, the green tomatoes. All these have sweet memories of Maw-Maw’s wisdom or moments together attached.
Have you ever considered Creation? Before God breathed life into humanity, He planted a luscious garden with everything humanity would need to sustain us. He thought of everything, then executed it all masterfully and beautifully. Because He’s a gentleman, and because He loves us immeasurably, He created everything we’d need first!
Picking up where I left off in my devotional time, reading from Bob Goff’s book, Catching Whimsy, I was blown away by a new-to-me thought Goff introduced. Jesus told a parable (Matthew 7:24-27) about the different foundations built upon by the wise man and the foolish man. The foolish man built his house on shifting sand, which crashed to devastation when the rains came. The wise man, however, built his house on a solid rock foundation. When the rains came, his home stood firm.
Goff suggests that we aren’t all given a firm foundation. We don’t all have ready-rocks to build on. Perhaps we were born into poverty. Maybe our spouse walked out, leaving us with nothing but five kids and no job. But the beautiful thing is this: God already thought of that too! He designed a perfect plan for that—Himself. He offered Himself to be our Rock, our foundation! What? Read that again. Slowly. Now read it once again, even more slowly this time. No matter what shaky, uncertain, shifting, unsteady, crumbling foundation we have, we can choose to build our lives on Him. He’s steady, solid, firm, unmoving, sturdy, and unshakable. He gave Himself. As a gift. There’s no earning, no striving, just grace. All grace. All we have to do is choose to build on Him, our Rock. Then when those devastating floods of overwhelm threaten to shake our lives, we can rest—REST—assured that we are held firm, unshakeable and safe.
The imagery of both rocks and gardens paints an exquisite picture of God’s faithfulness in sustaining us. When we build our lives on Him, He provides all we need. Because He is all we need. The courageous question here is: How do I respond to that? What if I don’t get the job promotion I’d planned for? What if that diagnosis is worse than we imagined? What if there’s no money after that last house payment? The answer to that courageous question for me is simply: surrender. It’s that unfurling of the fist to tenderly release control. Life may not look or go just like I envisioned, but I surrender to God’s way, knowing His is the best way, and His plan is always, always good. Ann Voskamp, in her book Sacred Prayer, calls this way of life cruciformity—it’s living a cross-shaped life, a life of taking up our crosses in surrender and following Jesus. Live cruciform, and you will live a beautifully sustained life because Love Himself is breathing life into you.
I invite you to find a garden today and talk to God there. Your prayer doesn’t have to be pretty or have flowery words. God just wants your heart, your raw, tender, realest real heart! Then, pick up a rock to remind you that God Himself is the Rock upon which to build your life. He is for you, and He won’t let you down. Ever.
Just about this time last year, as the shadows were lengthening and harvest-end was nearing, I video called my Grandpa to let Lily update him on our pea shelling. If you’re from the Deep South, you know there’s nothing like pink eye purple hull peas with cornbread (no sugar added, thank you). Living in the Midwest now, I couldn’t find pink eye purple hull pea seeds locally, so a few years ago, Paw-Paw mailed me a whole bunch of seeds.
When I called, Paw-Paw was spending his last days in the hospital where I was born. And I knew something was different when he didn’t open his eyes to see Lily and her bowl of shelled peas. He loved my daughter. Knowing then that it was nearing harvest-end for Paw-Paw, we made the decision to drive south and spend his last days on earth with him.
Little did I know we were driving into some of the most emotionally charged and challenging moments of our lives. I still haven’t processed those moments completely, and I’m not sure I ever will, because re-visiting is painful. I’m glad I know the most Wonderful Counselor though, because I’d not have withstood the furious storms otherwise.
But, back to seeds! I was just standing in my kitchen, almost a year after Paw-Paw went to heaven, again shelling peas. Grabbing my phone, I snapped a quick picture to share with Hearth and Hive social media followers—a gardening tip about seed saving. And like a dam had burst, the memories came flooding. Isn’t seed saving a bit like re-membering?
If you buy heirloom seeds once, research a bit about saving particular seeds, and then saving those seeds, you need never buy seeds again. It’s a gift of sustainability. And it’s a lot like memories. Until my life’s harvest-end arrives, and I cross into heaven, I won’t see my Paw-Paw again. I won’t hear his voice laced with correction, wisdom, and love. But I’ve saved those memories and lessons and carry them in my heart—heirloom.
Have you ever been on a prayer walk? There’s this 15-ish minute pathway I take whenever I pray and walk. Since I’ve plodded and pleaded so often, my seven-year-old has dubbed the path the “Prayer Walk Route.” It’s a sacred place for me. God and I have had so many deep conversations while flowers blossomed and leaves changed. Those wayside plants have been well watered by tears.
Months and months ago, there was a particularly painful season, and while I continued daily along the Prayer Walk Route, I felt alone. God was quiet. The conversation felt one-sided—just me. Not hearing from God was frustrating. I remember begging for Him to whisper to my soul or even shout at me. Silence.
Still, I carried on. One foot in front of the other. Every single day. Met with more silence, I started begging for a sign, a specific sign. I asked for a four-leaf clover.
Dutch clover, among others, is abundant in our home area. Along my Prayer Walk Route clover is prolific. My honeybees love it! And I always, always look for four-leaf clovers. Who doesn’t want good luck? So, I began bargaining with the clover-Creator, “If You really love me, would You please help me find a four-leaf clover?”
Not one. Even before this I’d always wanted to find one. And I couldn’t understand why, in all the countless hours over three plus decades, I could never find one. As a creative, I see the world in patterns, shapes, and colors—but I couldn’t see a four-leaf clover. Ever.
I remember being on this survival hike, and this lady looked down and found a handful. Siblings found them. Friends found them. A gal in my fitness group finds them by the dozens. My daughter found them. But I couldn’t find one.
My prayer walks began to feel more like burden marathons and pity parties, always asking God to prove His love. But I couldn’t feel it, couldn’t see it.
Until one night, during this stark season of darkness, I heard from God. Sitting outside at a car hop, I glanced up from my strawberry lemonade, and saw these words printed across a stranger’s t-shirt:
Even if You Don’t
My Hope is You Alone
Those words, lyrics from the MercyMe song Even If, were like light and oxygen and water to my dried up, used up soul. And He whispered that I wasn’t alone, I’d never been alone, because He is my Only, my Alone. And even if I never found the lucky clover, I’d still trust Him, I’d still hope in Him.
Five days after seeing that stranger’s shirt, I decided to walk a different trail. With both beagles and my daughter in tow, we headed out into the sunshine. No destination in mind, we followed the beagles’ noses. It’s a habit for me to pray as I walk, and I can still remember the place where I was praying gratitude to my God for loving me so well. I was filled with thanksgiving and joy, knowing without a doubt that my Abba loved me—and was thanking Him for already proving His love in so many ways. As I was saying those words, the exact moment, I glanced over to check on one of the beagles, and there it was! A four-leaf clover! It was nestled in a verdant sea, but the clover was so obvious as if it were the only one there.
What’s remarkable to me is that it wasn’t until I stopped demanding ultimatums and proof of His love, and until I could just rest and believe in His love, that He gave me this beautiful gift. The way He waited until already believed I was loved before seeing the clover is so much more meaningful.
For me, four-leaf clovers aren’t lucky. They don’t represent good luck. No, for me, the four-leaf clover will forevermore represent good LOVE.
Reaching toward the back of the pantry, it all came flooding back. The memory crashed over me like a hurricane-stirred ocean wave. Angry. Overwhelming. Again, I was swept away, spiraling into the depths.
The haunting strains of Taps echoed in the sweltering southern air from where we’d just lain my Paw-Paw to rest. As a family, we meandered along headstones and red dirt paths to the funeral dinner. And it was there, standing in line for a plate of nourishment, my memory stabbed my heart again. Solemnly standing there in line, a gentleman gestured toward me, asking, “who is she?” A distant family member stated my name, then went on to describe me and my appearance with shameful adjectives. I wasn’t Lalia- granddaughter or Lalia-beloved. She identified me based on how I looked—and not in a kind or poised way. No, she cut me down and humiliated me to the core at my grandpa’s funeral.
And months later, for whatever reason, as I went to nourish my own little family, her words crept into my mind and my heart. Is that how I’m known? Is that really who I am?
Oh, I sunk way down deep there in the depths for a while. Her hurtful words played over and over in my thoughts, then other voices from the past added their messages into this shame-filled chorus. And I almost believed it, believed I was just the sum of my failures, my weight, my clothing choices, my whatever, until I didn’t. If the Creator-God of the universe sent heaven’s crown, His only son, Jesus, to die so I can live forever, then I’m not buying it that my identity, my substance, is just that shallow. And neither should you.
So Jesus, in His creative grace, pulled me from the swirling deep and reminded me who I really am. Instead of those shameful messages on repeat, I started compiling a mental list of “I am …” affirmations.
I am Child of God. I am Beloved. I am Mother. I am Homemaker. I am Wife. I am Beekeeper. I am Loved. I am Chosen. I am Artist. I am Writer. I am Giver. I am Friend, Sister, Daughter, Granddaughter, Aunt, Cousin. I am Strong. I am Enough. I am Set Free. I am Treasured. I am Alive. I am Homesteader. I am Salt and Light. I am Nurse. I am Gardener. I am Imago Dei. I am….
And let me invite you to flip the script on the negative, shame-filled messages you carry, because overcoming shame with grace is extra sweet. What would you include on your list? Who are you?
Words are vital. They can make or break, uplift or cut down, they can speak life or speak death. The words spoken to us, the messages we carry, become internalized. I imagine a memory is tracing along the edges of your mind just now. If you’re like me, the scene is even memorialized so all the senses in that past moment are recalled. How does that make you feel? Can you redeem the message?
Proverbs 16:24 reads, “Gracious words are like a honeycomb, sweetness to the soul and health to the body” (ESV).
Kind words are like honey—sweet, yes, but also healing. Honey is amazing! Raw honey has antiviral, antibacterial, and anti inflammatory properties. Spreading honey over a wound speeds healing and prevents infection. Honey is soothing. But the really incredible thing about honey is that honey can prevent the death of healthy cells! When you speak kind, gracious words, you’re speaking life—you’re preventing the decay of the positive affirmations of who you are in Christ. You’re soothing and healing the shallow, negative, shame-filled words you’ve been carrying (or spewing).
For me, the best way to combat the loud voices, the negative words are to know THE WORD.
John 1:1-5, 14, 16 “In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was in the beginning with God. All things were made through him, and without him was not anything made that was made. In him was life, and the life was the light of men. The light shines in darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it. And the Word became flesh and dwelt among us, and we have seen his glory, glory as of the only Son from the Father, full of grace and truth. For from his fullness we have all received, grace upon grace” (ESV).
Because of Jesus, the Word, I can fully know God. Know the Word, know Life. How can I know Jesus? Get into His Word, scripture, daily. Talk to Him. Listen. Engage in holy community. Practice gratitude. Come alongside us here at Hearth & Hive this month (February) as we read through Romans. The invitation is yours. ❤️ I also invite and encourage you to journal some of your I am… affirmations. It’s a life-changer!
Oh, oh oh! Over on the market (Etsy), there’s some apparel that serves as a reminder to speak life and to spread kindness like honey. 🍯 HearthandHiveMarket
Self-sufficiency is one of those modern day buzz words that seems to be the bow that ties the tidy package of living off-grid, having ample savings, raising and growing food, future prepping, and being independent. Sounds like a dream, right? But is it really? Let’s zoom in on Habakkuk 2.
Habakkuk 2:2 begins God’s answer to Habakkuk’s second complaint. Remember, Habakkuk was the questioning prophet who lived around 600 years before Jesus was born (see previous blog). God is answering Habakkuk with a vision of the Babylonian Exile. Here, He instructs Habakkuk to write the vision. And right smack in the middle of all this doom and gloom comes hope! Because doesn’t our faithful God always provide for hope? In verse 4 (ESV) God promises, “Behold, his soul is puffed up; it is not upright within him, but the righteous shall live by his faith” (emphasis mine).
What does that mean? Why is it so full of hope? Let’s read on. Verses 5-17 detail more of the coming destruction and devastation. Then we come to verses 18-20 (ESV):
“What profit is an idol when its maker has shaped it, a metal image, a teacher of lies?
For its maker trusts in his own creation when he makes speechless idols!
Woe to him who says to a wooden thing, Awake; to a silent stone, Arise!
Can this teach?
Behold, it is overlaid with gold and silver, and there is no breath at all in it.
But the LORD is in his holy temple; let all the earth keep silence before him.”
Zooming in even closer, “its maker trusts in his own creation…and there is no breath at all in it” (Habakkuk 2:18-19, ESV). And I catch my own breath as I digest this—am I putting more hope and trust and energy into what I’ve created (or gardened or canned or raised or dreamed or saved) than I am putting into God to sustain me? Scripture indicates that even the fanciest, top-of-the-line securities and idols cannot save or profit us. And looking at the Babylonian Exile and other events, we see that history supports scripture.
Self-sufficiency isn’t sustainable. The only thing that has been, is, and ever will be sustainable is God-sufficiency.
Because God is sufficient and alive, we don’t have to rely on ourselves. Self-sufficiency, well, it’s never sufficient. Our creations have no breath, no life outside of God. Jesus declared, “I AM the Life.” Because of Jesus, we have ever-present hope. We can live with hope because we’re no longer dependent on our own sufficiencies, but we’re living our faith—living fully dependent on God.
I imagine that being God-sufficient, and even this counter-cultural idea, looks differently for everyone. And I know, I know, the idea is intimidating. What does laying down your drive toward self-sufficiency look like? How does it feel? Now, how does it feel to embrace living a God-sufficient life, embracing complete dependence on Him? What does it look like? How does your perspective shift?
For my little family, choosing to be God-sufficient rather than self-sufficient has been humbling. And the road has been excruciating at times, but we’ve never, ever been alone. The blessings that brokenness bring far outweigh the pain. We have witnessed miracles that will be passed down through generations.
We’ve chosen to homeschool for several deeply personal reasons, and that alone is a sacrifice. Even homeschooling is costly—financially and time-wise. Living on one seasonal income is hard. So hard.
Imagine, it’s December 1, and you notice your bank account has just under $200.00, yes, two hundred dollars, and that’s literally all you have, and your mortgage payment is due, which is considerably more than $200.00. So, you text your husband and ask if he made the house payment, hoping he says, “yes,” because you have a dozen people to buy Christmas gifts for, groceries for the week to purchase, and utility bills to pay. And, oh, there’s an unexpected vet bill and medications and because your husband’s work is seasonal, he has no work in the foreseeable future. And, the oven stopped working and his mower broke (essential for a landscaper) and the weight was crushing the breath right out of me. And, and, and….. He didn’t say the yes I was so hoping to hear; he said, “not yet.”
How would we make the payment? How could I have surprises for my little girl on Christmas morning? How would I feed my family and our animals? How would we pay the utility bills? How could we save for a new oven and mower part when we absolutely had nothing to even save? Should I send our little girl to school and start working outside our home? All these thoughts played on repeat in my mind day and night until I’d utterly exhausted myself.
Did you read all the “I’s” above? I was trying to fix everything. I was trusting in my own self-sufficiency. Had I been God-sufficient, I would’ve had much less anxiety. Becoming God-sufficient isn’t easy, and it’s a practice in humility. I had to lay down my pride and receive help. I’m a giver, so receiving is like pulling teeth for me; it’s awkward and uncomfortable. But it’s a beautiful blessing. I shared, with no details, in my small group that my husband needed work, and we prayed together. I shared with a close soul-sister. And I released.
On a Wednesday night mid-December, I told my husband we were putting all the uncertainties into a box, wrapping it in gorgeous imaginary paper, sealing it with a bright, red bow, and giving it to God. The only thing left was to communicate with God and trust Him completely. And the miracles came tumbling in—only God. Don’t you even tell me He can’t do it, because I’ve seen Him, over and over and over again.
An anonymous angel delivered an abundance of surprises for my little girl for Christmas, everything a little girl could dream of! A friend helped me buy groceries and some gifts. Two generous souls paid for the very expensive mower part. A friend surprised us with a new oven and so much more. Work started coming in from a suggestion from a friend in my small group. And God’s bank paid all our bills. I don’t even know how, but I’ve seen miracles that would blow your mind.
God Math—it’s real. I get it; when you read the memory of Jesus feeding 5000 with just a bit of fish and bread from one boy’s lunch and there being 12 full baskets leftover, it seems just like ancient folklore. But when you live it and actually witness it, it’s powerful. Those recorded memories from Jesus’ friends take on significant meaning and authenticity. For us, all year, God has taken just under $200.00 and has used that to sustain us. You see, what I didn’t tell you is that our bank account started in January a year ago with $196.00. Winter is oh-so-hard for us. And mid-winter, there was a tax mistake that the tax service didn’t note, which resulted in an unexpected $5000+ adjustment. Remember, we had less than $200. And there has rarely been a time all last year that I saw the bank account creep above $200. But God. My family is warm and fed. We have all we need. Had I tried to keep finding a solution and depending on my own sufficiency, I doubt we’d be where we are now. And I know we wouldn’t have witnessed miracles and established connections, and developed deeper friendships. No, those blessings came because we chose to be God-sufficient.
I love this quote by Philip Yancey in his book, The Jesus I Never Knew:
“With nowhere else to turn, the desperate just may turn to Jesus, the only one who can offer the deliverance they long for…maybe, just maybe, the desperate person will cry out to God for help. If so, that person is truly blessed.”
Yancey goes on to state, “poor people find themselves in a posture that befits the grace of God. In their state of neediness, dependence, and dissatisfaction with life, they may welcome God’s free gift of love…they are more naturally dependent, because they have no choice; they must depend on others simply to survive.”
Mid-December, someone assured me that if we needed anything, all I had to do was ask. And I remember tapping out a message sharing the incomprehensibility of God Math and detailing the miracles keeping us afloat. And I wrote something I believed with all my heart and still hold to—if I get too comfortable, there’s this very real possibility I’d feel self-sufficient. While being God-sufficient is hard and painful at times, I never want to not need Him. I’ve drawn so close to Him because I’ve had to. God is all I had. And no matter what, I never want to drift away. I know I’m seen and held and carried and loved and sustained. I’ve seen the miracles. And they’re too good to not believe.
No longer will I strive to be self-sufficient. From now on, I choose to be God-sufficient.
This is one of the most vulnerable blogs I’ve written—utterly humiliating. But it isn’t about me; it’s about sharing God for His glory. I didn’t do any of that. He did it! There was that self-sufficient paragraph above with all the “I” questions. I want to shift that to a God-sufficient perspective in answering those same questions.
God, in His limitless generosity, made our house payment. God creatively sent Christmas surprises. God provided food and necessities. God supplied money for the utility bills. God used others to bless us with an oven and means for a mower part. God whispered through His Word that I am to be still; I am right where He wants me.
It really is so sweet to just trust in Jesus. There is life, abundant life, in Him. So for me, I’m choosing God-sufficiency. And in God’s incredibly upside-down kingdom, we received the gift of being able to bless others in need. ❤️
Of all the 66 books in the library of the Bible, why would I choose to start the new year in Habakkuk, that mini book tucked in the Old Testament between Nahum and Zephaniah? And what’s with these names anyway?
The reason I chose to start my Bible reading and journaling in Habakkuk this year is because I was so fascinated by the text my pastor, Pastor CJ Johnson, used from Habakkuk in his New Year sermon. I imagine you’re wondering like I was, “why, why, why would one use Habakkuk as a New Year sermon outline?” But Pastor’s message was beautiful perfection. Read on.
Habakkuk was nicknamed “the questioning prophet.” And in my Bible (ESV), the scripture headings describe Habakkuk’s complaints to God. Complaining to God!? Isn’t that some kind of sin? I don’t think so. If you magnify in on scripture as a whole, you’ll identify several individuals who were bold and authentic and audacious with God (think Moses, David, Peter). God is big enough to take our complaints, questions, and emotions; He welcomes them even.
Historically, Habakkuk lived prior to the Babylonian exile. The book of Habakkuk was written c. 612-588 B.C., according to my Life Application Study Bible. So, Habakkuk, questioning prophet, here, is crying out to God for help. He’s complaining that God isn’t hearing and seeing and saving. Faithful as always, God answers Habakkuk’s questions with a vision of what will take place during the Babylonian exile.
I know, I know; this blog is getting a bit teach-y. So, let’s get back to Pastor’s sermon. After God’s answer, Habakkuk questions God further. He was persistent. At the end of Habakkuk’s second complaint, he declares to God in Habakkuk 2:1 (ESV),
“I will take my stand at my watchlist and station myself on the tower, and look out to see what he will say to me, and what I will answer concerning my complaint.”
In the days of the prophets, the word “watchtower“ was used to refer to the prophets’ attitude of expectation (Isaiah 21, Jeremiah 6, Ezekiel 3). And here is where Pastor masterfully tied this passage into our New Year message. Using Habakkuk’s statement, Pastor challenged us to:
•ELEVATE our perspective
•EXTEND our perspective
•EXPAND our perspective
Doesn’t that just light your heart on fire? Setting goals, making resolutions, and daily decisions can all benefit from perspective elevation, extension, and expansion. And these three perspective shifts can be used in all areas of our lives—spiritual, physical, mental, financial, relational, and emotional!
As I read through Habakkuk, I got to the last three verses of the very last chapter, chapter 3. These last 3 verses come at the tail end of Habakkuk’s prayer-response to God, and record his praise to God even though he knows the devastation on the horizon.
Verse 17 begins “THOUGH the fig tree should not blossom…and the fields yield no food…and there be no herd in the stalls, YET will I rejoice in the Lord… (emphasis mine). Here, there’s a cause and effect—though devastation is coming, yet, still, even so, I will rejoice. Habakkuk is choosing joy.
He is choosing to focus on the miracles rather than the miseries.
Finally, Habakkuk brings his prayer to a close by acknowledging that God is his strength in this poetic prayer:
“God, the Lord, is my strength; he makes my feet like the deer’s; he makes me tread on my high places” (3:19).
And just like Habakkuk, I can be confident that if I keep my perspective elevated and focused on God, He will keep me surefooted and steadfast. For someone terrified of heights, this verse is a promise I carry close.
So, how about it this year? How about joining me and my friends at Hearth & Hive in shifting our perspectives this year? What does that look like for you?
Join me in choosing to mark year 2024 by the miracles rather than the miseries. 💛
On November 1, I sat on a rock overlooking the creek at twilight. In the woods, alone with the woodpeckers and squirrels and God, I rolled out a leaf-lined carpet of invitation to read through 2 Samuel with me this month.
And what a first week it’s been! For our little family, it’s been one drive by after another. My sweet friend, MK, defines attacks from the enemy as drive-bys. I love it—the term, not the attack. This week has been gut-level devastating, leaving us wondering what in the world God’s trying to teach us. We’re broken. But it’s in this place of brokenness that we know we’re in the right place, doing what we’re supposed to be doing. If we weren’t a threat to the enemy, he wouldn’t be attempting so many drive-bys. We’re down, but we’re not out.
It’s also from this place of brokenness that grace shines through. We’ve been blessed immensely and repeatedly from a good friend. We’ve witnessed miracles. We’ve experienced God’s goodness and provision.
I was telling a neighbor yesterday how it feels we’re drowning, and every time we sneak our noses up for a sip of air, we’re pulled back under mid-breath.
In the cracks and hard to breathe moments, God’s light shines in so beautifully. And we find hope again.
Even during this hard week, this stormy week, God has taught me so much through 2 Samuel. The lessons are powerful—and always timely. I shared on social media some questions from 2 Samuel 1:4 this morning. Take a moment and reflect on this passage. Ask yourself from what are you running? What do you fear?
These days I seem to be bombarded with the question of purpose. And it’s a struggle, really, because I’m quickly approaching year 40, and still haven’t decided what I’m supposed to be when I grow up. I’ve read Rick Warren’s The Purpose Driven Life…more than once. Guess what? I still don’t know my definitive purpose.
More than two decades ago, I overheard a mother share that her daughter lived life to its fullest. Something happened that moment—I purposed to live my life to the fullest. That didn’t mean that I’d master everything, but I would try to experience as much as possible. Over the next two-plus decades, I’ve worn many unique hats and have experienced some wild adventures. I’ve tucked many, many skills into my life tool belt, but, for the past couple years I’ve been disturbed by this feeling that I don’t have one specific purpose. Because I determined to live a full life, learning and studying as much as possible, I have much to give, but am overwhelmed by not knowing which particular area to serve. Do I write? Serve in music? Provide hospitality? Do I create art to sell? Go on mission trips? Feed the homeless? Sew, knit, and crochet for the unclothed? I don’t know. It’s exhausting.
But what I do know is this: I don’t have to be remarkable at any of those things to be used. So I’ve decided,
I want to be wax. Beeswax.
Wax? What? Why? Beeswax is phenomenal. A diligent, conscientious beekeeper knows the enormous value of beeswax for both the hive and the keeper. In the beekeeping world, it’s often said (and meant!) that wax is like gold. It’s utterly essential to a thriving colony. But—hear this—wax doesn’t serve just one purpose. Wait. What?! There’s actually something with multiple purposes that is invaluable? I want to be like that, like wax.
Mini Beekeeper, Lily
To better perceive the value of wax, an understanding of wax production is necessary. Do you know how bees produce wax? This is mind blowing. Our Creator’s intricate details just shout His glory! [Yes, I’m passionate—about bees and Jesus!] Each worker bee has eight wax producing glands (4 pairs) on her abdomen. But get this! To produce just 1 pound of wax, the bees have to consume 8-12 pounds of honey and visit over 30 million flowers! Hive temperature needs to be 86-98.6 degrees Fahrenheit; through über cool (pun intended) behaviors, honeybees keep the hive at a constant 93-97 degrees Fahrenheit year round. They’re un-bee-lievable, but, then again, nature always points back to the magnificence of Creator God!
Survival, for the honeybee, is dependent upon wax. Bees use wax cells to raise brood, store honey and other nutrient resources, and to make queen cells. See? One essential substance, but that one substance has multiple uses. I want to be wax—willing to be used where needed.
Bees need wax to survive, but the excess wax is like gold to we beekeepers as well. Again, this repurposed wax has multiple valuable uses.
A few months ago, as I was really wrestling with this concept of purpose, I went for a longer-than-usual prayer walk. Crossing 111th Street to find my trail, my Abba whispered in a uniquely creative way, “You know that old, dirty, black, broken, used up, dried out wax you’ve been rendering? Well, that’s how I work too. I take what you felt was too broken, too used up, and I refine that and make you pure and usable like gold.”
wax cappings
And I paused, right there along 111th Street, tears pouring, because this, this, I understood. My God is personal, and He’s marvelously creative, and He chases after us in ways we know could only be Him. That ugly, black, useless wax, when melted and rendered, becomes a pure, golden product with indispensable value. It really is like gold.
There are so many ways to render beeswax, but they all require heat and melting. Remember that conversation I had with God, there along 111th Street? He wasn’t finished teaching me. Standing there, because who could move when God has just blown their mind, He continued, “when you render wax, it’s kind of like how I test and refine you. Instead of a solar (sun) wax melter, you’re SON melted. Proven pure and genuine, you, too, are ready to serve.” Awestruck. Really, though, “awestruck” doesn’t even come close to how I felt. Seen. Loved. Valued.
1 Peter 1:7 (MSG) “Pure gold put in the fire comes out of it proved pure, genuine faith put through this suffering comes out proved genuine.”
Zechariah 13:9 (NIV) “…I will put into the fire; I will refine them like silver and test them like gold.”
After honey harvest a few weeks ago, I made a solar wax melter out of items I found at home. And my scrappy contraption worked brilliantly! The black, broken wax, melted (changed form) by the sun, filtered through cheesecloth, and hardened into pure, golden wax. One of the most vital uses for rendered wax is using it directly in the hive. I paint melted wax on frame foundation to give the bees a boost when they’re drawing comb. This stimulates their natural production (see any life application parallels here?). Other neat purposes for beeswax are candlemaking, cosmetics, furniture polish, encaustic painting, food storage wraps, and many others.
my scrappy diy solar melter
Malachi 3:2-4 (MSG) “He’ll be like white-hot fire from the smelter’s furnace….He’ll take his place as a refiner of silver….refine them like gold and silver, until they’re fit for God, fit to present offerings of righteousness.”
This certainly sounds like a SON melter to me! Without heating and skimming, there’s no purifying. Isaiah says, “I’ve refined you, but not without fire. I’ve tested you like silver in the furnace of affliction” (48:10 MSG). Going through affliction in the refining process is painful, but this is exactly where the miracle happens. And staying steadfast, you’re proved pure.
beeswax wraps
Job 23:10 (NIV) “But he knows the way that I take; when he has tested me, I will come forth as gold.”
Lily helping me put in freshly waxed foundation
That prayer walk conversation with God on a pink sunset filled sky in May wasn’t an isolated event. Since that moment, purpose has been synchronously popping up, always a God-whispered affirmation that I can be like wax.
From the moment our little family walked through the doors 3-ish years ago, our church has felt like home. I’ve never, ever felt more of a sense of belonging than I felt that first time (and still feel) at Northview Church. That place truly is a house of miracles, but that’s a story for another cup of tea some other time. This past Sunday, sitting there in the front row next to strangers who felt like family, Pastor CJ announced his title for the message, “I’ve Got Options.” My ears perked up! Options! I started scribbling his words as quickly as I could until I heard the phrase, “purpose anxiety.” My heart started racing, and I could only sit there for a few beats stunned. Options. Purpose. Purpose anxiety. This new term very much described my ongoing battle to find my purpose. Attention rapt, I captured as much of Pastor CJ’s message as I could. Because here’s the thing—when you ask your God for something specific, and it aligns with HIS purpose, expect it.
Before quoting Pastor CJ, I asked his permission to share some of his message here, but here’s what I didn’t tell him:
Early Sunday morning, I prayed specifically for my pastor, that he would be willing to be a vessel for Holy Spirit and that the Spirit would speak through him. And, y’all, God heard and answered in a mighty way. I know that I’m not the only one with purpose anxiety and the need to know “I’ve got options.”
Before outlining 4 ways the apostle Paul guides us via Colossians 3-4 in knowing our purpose (or options), Pastor CJ stated something I’ll never forget, “if I do the small things like they’re big things, He’ll do the big things like they’re small things.” Just wow. Our God is that good.
I’ve been thinking of the “guardrails,” as Pastor CJ terms Paul’s guidelines to knowing purpose, as being in the SON melter. These are the action steps I can take to prove genuine and ready for my purpose:
Be ruled by peace
Be rooted in scripture
Be reinforced by praise
Be regulated by honor
Johnson, CJ. July 23, 2023. Northview Church.
Just as the filthy, useless wax is filtered, to know my purpose, I need to filter everything through feelings of peace, scripture, and discerning what honors God. And all the while, I praise because “I’ve got options” and I can be like wax.
Oh! Something remarkable—both honey and beeswax have an indefinite shelf life. Gold, indeed.
To Pastor CJ, Thank you for your willingness to allow me to share your words, thoughts, and teaching creativity. I appreciate you sharing your heart and being used by God to teach and grow us. Know this, like Esther, you’re here for such a time as this, and when the enemy fights the hardest—that’s how you know you’re exactly where you should be, doing exactly what you should be doing. Thank you for enduring the afflictions to be proven pure and genuine. I’m grateful. Blessings to you & your family, Lalia
Hearth & Hive 