MollyMadonna.com

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love is.

A handwritten note. A home cooked meal. A gentle voice. A prayer spoken. It’s an anonymous blessing, a purposeful act. It is filled with good intention.

Love is a back rub. It’s a task checked off your list by someone else, so you can step a little lighter. It’s a reminder that everything is going to be ok. It’s not easily contained.

Love weathers the unexpected. Is tireless. Fearless. Limitless. It induces hope.

Love is a nursing mother in the middle of the night. It’s a hard working father, providing for his family. It’s a child, clamoring to learn anything that will bring a smile, draw attention, result in praise. It is ingrained in us, and either nurtured in us or squelched in us from before we even enter the world.

Love might be a sacrifice of time, energy, resources, comfort, familiarity, belongings, words, hurt, addiction, quiet, space, basic needs, or temporary gratification. It is almost always a sacrifice of self, almost always calls us to a better version of ourselves than we’ve been before.

Love seeks justice, truth, forgiveness, reconciliation, restitution, resolution when possible, peace. It does not always seek equality, nor does it compromise Truth for the sake of making things easier or more comfortable. Love faces the hard things head on. Love leans on Truth in order that others might know it more deeply. Love never gives up.

Love is what you’re able to summon from your heart when you know who the world’s greatest Love is and when you accept what He made available for all of humankind. For that weird guy across the street. For the prisoner. For the prostitute. For the downcast and the outcast and the unloveable. For you.

LOVE is a four letter word, yes. And it’s something we celebrate on February 14th each year. But before and after it is these things or anything else, it is Christ on a cross, dying in my place–in your place, for sins He never committed, so that we might live in freedom through Him.

Love doesn’t just win, folks. Love IS. Alive, available, something you don’t have to wait for to possess. You only have to say yes to the greatest proposal in the history of creation. God is romancing each of us, if only we let Him.

love. today and every day,

mm

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somewhere else.

We all have moments from time to time when everything else stands still–when something in the everyday sparks a distant thought, hope, remembrance, curiosity, sadness or joy. I suppose I don’t know this for certain, but I presume that it’s true. There are things in life that can evoke deep, striking, vivid imaginations or memories in an instant, and in my own life, I believe that God has used such fleeting thoughts to move my heart. When they happen, I’m always left thinking more clearly than I was before. And it’s rare that I don’t carry these real, evocative moments around with me for the rest of the day…or days…sometimes weeks.

Most often, mine occur out of doors, when the light of the day, the haze on the sky, a smell in the air, or the precise crispness of morning bring me back to places I’ve loved: Africa, Australia, India, any given beach, a vacation, spaces I’ve called home for a season. But sometimes, like today, they take place in the inbetween: in a very quiet moment when the lists and to-dos and commitments have all stood still–when I’m simply living the exact thing God has intended for my life in that space and time.

I rocked Henry in and out of sleep this afternoon as he settled down from a full on cry and into a dreamy, sighing place in my arms. Cradling his sweet head in one hand, his little body tucked tightly to my chest, I whispered, “It’s ok, baby. It’s ok. Shusssh. Everything’s ok…” and I was completely struck. Somewhere else in the world, a dark skinned mama cradled her dark skinned baby, shushing him or her to sleep as she rocked, everything within her wanting just to make it all ok. She acted out of an identical set of instincts, desires and emotions, the same hopes and aspirations and sense of protection I was feeling in that moment. She gathered up all that she had in her–weary and worried, wondering about the next hours or days ahead of her–begging God for help, and loving out of everything she could offer at the same time.

I say that she was dark-skinned, because in this time-stopping moment in the nursery with Henry, she was. She was huddled in a small shack, dressed in worn, but still colorful clothing, lit only by the sun streaming through cracks in the structure above her. She was desperate, trying. She had shut out the grim reality of life just outside her own walls and instead, focused on the one thing God had tasked her with in the moment. A baby. Her baby. An entirely different set of circumstances than my own, and somehow, the same.

Hours later, I don’t yet understand why I needed, in that moment, to feel the burden of another young mother, comforting her babe. I don’t think it was simply so I could recognize that as moms, we’re not doing this alone. God comforts me to that end in friendship and fellowship on an almost daily basis. There was far more to it than that. I ached at the idea of this mother, longing desperately to console a child who lacked significantly more than sleep. I wanted there to be more than just a thought–I wanted to do something. I don’t know who she is. I don’t know where she is. But I know she matters to God, and I know that there are countless others like her.

I’m burdened to share this tonight because I don’t want to forget. God is always tugging at my heart in some way or another, and on days like today, when it feels so tangible and purposeful, I want desperately to preserve what I’ve seen or thought so I can continue to make the connections in my life. What is it that God is after in me? What does He want me to pursue? Be passionate about? Ache over? Certainly, the hearts of mothers who are struggling to do the very best with what they have, even when what they have (by worldly standards) is next to nothing. Certainly those who are isolated, alone, fighting for basic human needs and the lives of their children. What does God to do in me? Through me? Through this?

And what does God want to do through you?

I could have written all of this in a private journal, I know. And it would have been there for all time for me to go back to and re-read if I ever got around to it. But I sat down at the keyboard tonight, unsure of what I had to say, and this is what came out. Something bigger than who I am–bigger than I can entirely explain. We all have our something bigger, our someone, our somewhere else. And I am convinced that God wants to use each of us to do something significant. Not small, not quiet. SIGNIFICANT. As is big. Really, really big. The kinds of things that change lives…eternities. I marvel at the possibilities of what God will do.

If you’re the praying kind, and you read this tonight (or tomorrow, or next week, or next year), will you take a minute to pray for me? Will you ask God on my behalf to keep showing up, to keep making the burden apparent, to keep moving me towards the things I’m supposed to be about? I am praying that for you. Where two or more are gathered, no?

opening my hands up,

mm

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do not worry…

…about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own. Matt. 6:34

This has been an absolutely necessary reminder for me this week! Without it, I’m not sure I would have made it out of bed this morning. Each day, something else has piled on that’s required a high level of emotional energy, and I was starting to feel like I could completely crumble under the weight of it all. I’m not trying to sound and/or be dramatic by any stretch–only honest. I write a lot about all of the beautiful things going on in my life most days, and today I just need to be real about the hard stuff, too. Undoubtedly, there’s beauty in and amongst the tough things that come our way, but I think it’s terribly hard to see at times when you’re in the middle of them. If I had allowed myself to worry much past the next 24 hours on any given day this week, I don’t think I’d have had any resilience left to enter into the next set.

The beauty in the hard things for me this week is twofold:

1) I have needed to press into God like crazy, remembering at all times how faithful He is in all circumstances. I’ve had to lean in with more prayer, more reflection, more quieting of my own spirit in order to be led through a rough patch with God’s help.

2) I have been able to see God’s hand in each situation. I don’t have to understand the entire picture to realize that He is responding to my requests and to the requests of others–and that he is changing the world around me for good. When I worry too far into the future, I often miss what God has for me in the present.

I went to bed last night with a total lack of peace on multiple levels. Even pressing through as best as I knew how, I still felt helpless, hopeless and weary. Today when I woke up, despite my attempts to shake last night’s difficult space, I found things much the same. Still, I prayed, asked for help, trusted, and had to move forward into the day.

Not all parts of it were easy, I’ll admit, but I never pray for easy. (I pray for things like wisdom, grace, joy, discernment and peace, hoping that things might begin to feel a little bit easier in the process…and it usually helps:) Instead of being all bogged down by tomorrow, this weekend, next month, I just tried to keep my thoughts to today. And it worked.

At the other end of what started out as a rocky Thursday, I can say that God showed up–miraculously and willingly and obviously on multiple counts. Instead of crying out of frustration and pain, my tears today were sourced from joy. I know that if I’d been more preoccupied with other things, I would have missed the blessing of watching God in action. Whole, answered prayers. Peace where it doesn’t naturally flow, grace where I need it the most.

Tomorrow is another day, and with it, I might face new things that challenge, create worry, stress me to my limits or throw me curve balls. This is exactly why tomorrow’s material is just plenty. It’s all I need.

When I (we) take one day at a time, it honors God’s guidance to us. Then perhaps, with less clutter to bog us down, we can be certain to notice all of the places where He shows up. Our yokes become manageable, our burdens lighter. We can fall into bed joyful, thankful, encouraged. And we can trust that there will be enough left over to meet tomorrow’s needs.

one day at a time,

mm

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heart of worship.

My heart was heavy this morning. And I wanted so badly to be able to pray through what I was processing and to give it my all, but I just didn’t have it in me. Do you know the feeling?

I trudged through breakfast and taking care of Henry in a cloud. I watched the snow fall in giant, perfect flakes outside and tried to put all of my energy into thinking about the weather. I wondered if I’d have noticed–on any other given day, the way white tufts were piling up like cotton blossoms on the tips of branches out the front window.

Distraction is not a good replacement for going to God.

But I tried anyway. I thought about the eggs as I scrambled them in the pan. I tried to enjoy my coffee and couldn’t. I put the little one down for a nap, picked out something to wear, started the water for a shower. And then it struck me. “All who are thirsty, all who are weak, come to the fountain, dip your heart in the streams of life. Let the pain and the sorrow be washed a way, let the waves of His mercy…as deep cries out to deep, we sing, ‘Come Lord Jesus, come. Come Lord Jesus, come.'”

The words washed over me like a wave. “Come Lord Jesus, come. Holy Spirit, come.” I let myself drown out everything else and embraced each word. The lyrics felt like a deep breath, a safe place to land, a peace offering. I made them my prayer–the one I couldn’t find an hour earlier, and that I so desperately needed. God met me where I was lacking, covered over me in a way I didn’t expect.

Still replaying the chorus of the song in my head a while later, “Heart of Worship” came to mind. “I’ll bring you more than a song, for a song in itself is not what you have required. You search much deeper within, through the way things appear. You’re looking into my heart. I’m coming back to the heart of worship, and it’s all about you, it’s all about you, Jesus…”

“Come Lord Jesus, come. Holy Spirit, come. It’s all about you, Jesus.”

Even in the moment when I couldn’t articulate a request to God, He had already found me and been searching my heart. Gently prodding, He brought me back to what was important, used my vulnerability for good, reminded me that a posture of surrendered worship is a worthy offering. And honestly, it felt like a cool balm, a protective covering over my spirit.

Tonight I’m still singing, “Come Lord Jesus, come,” –still unsure of what exactly to pray in my own words. But my heart is a little lighter, and I know that God is carrying the yoke. “Holy Spirit, come…” Sometimes the invitation is all it takes.

acknowledging joy in the offering…desiring to be more than a song,

mm

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love for today.

When I need little reminders of joy, they are everywhere I look. And I am humbled over and over. Thank you for being joy…

BTA: for more than i could ever write in a blog post. for being constant. for always picking up where we leave off. for phone calls on the drive home. for so. much. love.

(R)BW: for photo sessions with our littles (I still owe you pictures), kindred blogging, kindred lives. for four-legged friends and a worthwhile commute.

AdR: for chats about being mamas to boys over coffee, for pups, for fashion inspiration, for friendship crafted over radio spots and marketing meetings.

BWB: for lunch dates and pregnancy conversations, hearts after God and the written word, crafts and craftiness and your amazing ability to find me when i need to be found. and for dinosaurs.

JLR: for history. for wisdom and friendship and prayer and openness that withstands all tests of time and distance. for doing life, and for witnessing life at its very beginning.

KTB(D): for ruby slippers and choreography and a love of everything literary. for travels to coastlines and shorelines, and for poems we understand without saying a word.

LZ: for sparkle, both the kind you feel and the kind you wear. for generosity of spirit, for encouragement, and for adventure. (and birthdays, of course.)

LH & NJ: for loving our little family like your own. for prayers, guidance, reassurance, countless blessings, time, nourishment in so many ways.

AT: for fridays. for target dates. for raising boys in a crazy world with reckless love and abandon. and for being real.

BZ: for thoughtfulness and encouragement and spirit. for talent that goes on for miles. for always finding the good. for fake mustaches.

EV: for phone calls that break up the day. for too many similarities to count. for trading in tiaras and earning new titles as mamas instead. for strength.

EJH: for laughter. for being honest. for finding silver linings and reminding me of good. for celebrating what matters and never giving up.

GDZ: for believing. for cultivating love and family and generosity and care. for graciousness and gracefulness and grace.

TMD: for late night conversations. for cheering on and lifting up and leaning in. for lessons. and for bunches, not grapes.

JMK: for covenant. for building a legacy. for falling in and rolling to the middle. for dreaming and watching dreams come true. for what is to come.

And there are more, of course, who I don’t mean to miss in the least bit. More who challenge me in the best ways and who build me up–who teach me about blessing and God and what it means to be selfless, generous, willing, authentic, kind, bold. This entry could be a novel, and I sit back in wonder and think, “How did I ever end up here, with so much beauty at every turn?” You are. Believe it. I know it to be true. Beautiful.

there are not enough words.

mm