I'm Embracing Change!

I'm not sure exactly what happened between the last blog post and now, but I think I've actually started a new blog!

My last blog post, An Accidental Mama, resonated with me so much that I felt like there was more to the story. I like risk and change. (I know, my husband thinks I'm weird too) So I decided to explore it!

I've LOVED my last couple of years here on Beck Far From Home. In the process of writing about home and the longing for it, I found I had really been home all along. My heart has it's dwelling in God. I will be far, in a sense, from my heavenly home for the rest of my earthly life. But I don't feel an urgent restlessness to ponder and wrestle with my homelessness like I once did.

Fittingly one of the last blog posts to be written here is entitled Finding Home. I'm satisfied.

Actually As I look over the last three posts I'm amazed. God is bringing me full circle in my life in so many areas. I've found a home. I'm embarking on a new journey of pursuing writing. and income, for the first time in years. And I'm discovering that while I didn't intend to become a mama, God had plans for my good far greater than I could foresee. I'm ready to explore what it means to pursue my calling in the throws of motherhood.

Now all that's left to do is say thank you. Thank you for journeying with me and supporting me as I practiced my faith and played with words! Thank you for allowing me to be a part of your journey as well. And to invite you to join me over at The Accidental Mama, it's not your ordinary mommy blog! See you there. 

Finding Home

We close on our new house June 12th!

I am Beck far from home, I always have been and in a sense will be until I die. When I was little, in a family as transient as gypsies, home eluded me. In fifteen years of marriage we've lived in four states and spent a total of three years living in other people's homes. From the moment I was born I went questing, casting about for home.

The truth was I never found home, perhaps because I wasn't ready. If you don't know where your heart is meant to dwell it will never find it's resting place. But even though, in a sense I'm still far from home, my heart has finally found a place to call home.

My home is God's heart and my home is his people. Throughout the early years of my life I learned the first truth, in the last few years I've learned the second. Whether living in someone's basement or far from my native south, I learned to live and move and have my being in God my father (Acts 17:28).

After disappointment, that I've both endured and caused, I've come to realize that if my heart dwells in God and your heart dwells in God, we dwell together. I knew that truth doctrinally but experientially it has alluded me. As much as I've cared deeply for the churches we've served I've rarely felt at home. Perhaps I wasn't ready, perhaps I was still sojourning. Maybe I needed to feel far from home to prize home when I found it.

I don't feel far from home anymore.

In all our wandering Chris and I never bought, or even considered buying, a house. There were many, many reasons for that. To a great extent they were financial, the risk didn't out weigh the benefit. But now, even though there are still risks, we're ready to face them.

I'm tired of wandering. I need a home. But more than that, something is different in me, in this church. I believe God is doing something new. Buying a house says something. It says I choose to stay, it says I choose you. For the long haul. And that's what I believe a church family should do, choose Jesus, and one another, for the long haul. Like marriage.

So this house is our engagement ring. We're marrying our future to Christ's bride in this time and this place, for better or worse. For a wandering gypsy like me that kind of commitment thrills and terrifies me. But I trust it's God's doing and I embrace it.

Oddly enough our arrival at the church was less formal than anywhere else we've been and in some ways I think that's good. No need for fanfare, there's work to be done.

In every church we've served the value of our experience has been enormous and we've loved deeply. We are still in relationship with many of our friends. But I've never felt like the whole church was family, I've always wondered if I was wanted. Perhaps I guarded my heart too closely, or perhaps those communities didn't know how to adopt. But I know this is what I've always wanted. To belong.

"You have made us for yourself, Oh Lord, and are hearts are restless until they rest in you." St. Augustine

Do you have a place to belong? We are communal creatures, a life of solitude isn't an option. If you're still wandering ask God to establish you in community, it's his desire for his children to be at home together.

The Lord Is My Shepherd

Hearing the beautiful words of the 23rd Psalm, read yesterday at church, has left an impression on my heart. I've never associated this passage with Christmas but the truth resonated and the season added a fresh perspective.

The Lord is my shepherd;

I have all that I need.

He lets me rest in green meadows;

he leads me beside peaceful streams.

He renews my strength.

He guides me along right paths,

bringing honor to his name.

Even when I walk

through the darkest valley,

I will not be afraid,

for you are close beside me.

Your rod and your staff

protect and comfort me.

You prepare a feast for me

in the presence of my enemies.

You honor me by anointing my head with oil.

My cup overflows with blessings.

Surely your goodness and unfailing love will pursue me

all the days of my life,

and I will live in the house of the Lord

forever.

Psalm 23

What a powerful thought that the baby the shepherds came to worship was their true Shepherd, he always had been, he understood them, he knew exactly what they needed. Because the Shepherd has come he leads us in a new way, guiding us in peace, caring for our needs, in person. 

Even in the darkest valley. I'm reminded of a passage in Isaiah 9. "The people who walk in darkness will see a great light. For those who live in a land of deep darkness, a light will shine... For a child is born to us, a son is given to us." This Christmas the dark valley, the shadow of death, has hovered over our family. Immanuel takes on a whole knew meaning. Through all of life's dark valley's Immanuel is the reality of God walking with us. 

Jesus' arrival puts into perspective that death, for those who trust him, is just a shadow. It's his goodness and love that pursue us, not judgement and wrath, and when we pass through the shadow from this life to the next, Immanuel will be a face to face reality. His house will be our home forever. "His government and its peace will never end." 

Jesus didn't come for a brief visit thousands of years ago, he came to stay. He came to lead us home. Whatever your life holds this Christmas, joy or grief, or a mixture of both, I trust Jesus will walk with you. That his goodness and love will pursue you, that he will guide you in right paths, and give your heart rest. Merry Christmas friends!

Far From Home

I have been "far from home" for a long time. When I started this blog I named it Beck Far From Home for two reasons. The most obvious being that Wyoming, where I lived at the time, was a significant distance from my Georgia roots. 

Living in a land wildly different from what I knew, longing for the familiar, highlighted the second reason for my homesickness. The longing was just a reminder that Home is a deeper truth my heart is searching for. My heart agrees with the psalmist cry, "Lord, through all the generations you have been our home!" (Psalm 10) I live in eager anticipation for the day my body will experience the reality my heart already knows, where Jesus is there is my home.

Lately a new homesickness has surfaced. My heart has taken flight and wanders outside of itself longing to be with those Jesus loves. What could compel a journey far from home to be with a people who are not my own? Only the grand love of the Father. What compels me to walk out the doors of my house into the messy life of a neighbor? Only Jesus grace.

My imagination is being caught up in the wonder of what God has planned for a nation. My heart is captured, becoming a co-conspirator, by his love for a needy little boy just across the street. God's deep desire to reconcile all mankind to himself compels me, and has set a new kind of homesickness in my heart. I have a new awareness of being far from home. I long to be where Jesus is. I hear him calling from an ancient land, from the halls of people institutionalized in their suffering. And he's calling in the voice of a tongue tied preschooler, with speech so broken it makes me wince. "Love sees, love goes, and love is present."

I choose to see the neighbor, the needy foreigner; I choose to move toward them in their pain and loneliness; I choose to sit with them in their need being the ears that listen, the hands that sooth, the shoulder that gives rest. I wonder how much I'm really blessing though because truly I'm the one being blessed. I didn't know it was possible to love a child that isn't your own so fiercely. That surprise can only be due to the years I've spent loving like a legalist and not like a Servant. I choose love only because Love chose me. 

My heart hears it's Love call and leaves home but I'm learning, that in a sense, it's impossible to leave my home because it's always been Jesus.

Adventures in Gardening ~ Thorns

"For the creation was subjected to frustration, not by its own choice, but by the will of the one who subjected it, in hope that the creation itself will be liberated from its bondage to decay and brought into the freedom and glory of the children of God." Romans 8:20-21

Maggie and I continue digging in our dirt. We haven't planted yet, we're still removing large amounts of grass and rocks from the soil. Hopefully this week we'll add lime and fertilizer and then the seeds will go into the ground!

I was reminded yesterday, as the sun beat down on my neck and droplets formed at my temples, that gardening is done in a fallen world. The curse of sin is seen so clearly as we fight weeds and thorns to grow good things from the ground. It isn't without sweating and getting dirty that good food is grown.

That's true of spiritual gardening as well. Life is lived in a fallen 'garden', truth is often choked out by lies. Healthy relationships don't grow without the hard work of cultivation.

In this world there will always be weeds and thorns, rocky ground, hard soil, bad weather. Right expectations are so important to avoid discouragement and defeat. We, as believers, are not what we will be, the church is not the pure bride she's becoming, this earth is not free of the curse, yet. The day will come when everything in heaven and earth will be made right, the curse will be lifted, the dragon slain. But not today. Today we toil under the curse. Today we cultivate rocky ground. Today we live under the shadow of death.

"But in keeping with his promise we are looking forward to a new heaven and a new earth, where righteousness dwells. So then, dear friends, since you are looking forward to this, make every effort to be found spotless, blameless and at peace with him." 2 Peter 3:13

Today as we do the hard work of toiling, physically and spiritually, under the curse of sin, let's remember what we look forward to. A home of righteousness and peace! Every golden day overshadowed by a rain cloud, every walk through the dark valley brightened by a surprising ray of sunshine reminds us of the hope of a better day, of the world we were made to live in! We're going home.

Heading Home

I sent out an email today updating family and friends on our move and new address. This was my mom's response:

"YAY, YAY, YAY  And it came to pass that Beck and Maggie got a new home, Chris got a new job and Max got a school where he can make friends and stay for a long time and they lived in the land and grew in wisdom and knowledge and served young and old, near and far alike and added to their riches in Heaven and pleased God and were blessed all the days of their lives."

It read like a blessing, touching my heart, and I just had to share! Let it be so Lord Jesus.

Five Minute Friday: On Friendship

I look forward to joining in the free flow of word on Friday, linking up with Lisa-Jo and all her friends. Today we're talking about just that. The prompt; On Friends.

Go

I join my hands in a long chain down through time, dancing and twirling. Children and old, women and men, dear ones, connecting at the heart.

Eyes catch twinkling merry, laughter flung wide. Heavy sigh falls on warm heart, soft as a bed to rest upon. Shoulders pull in the harness of life, hands work together. Sharing life, need, toil.

Yet these relationships are pictures of what's to come. We smooth rough edges, learn to love. Until perfect friendship dawns, one in heart at last. Gathering together around the wedding feast, community, final victory won!

Together we will stand shoulder to shoulder, face to face with the great Friend. Having followed the signposts home.

"So now we can rejoice in our wonderful new relationship with God because our Lord Jesus Christ has made us friends of God." Romans 5:11

Stop

You may also want to read my thoughts on homesickness and when life disappoints. I'm sharing those at my blog friend Kris' site Always Alleluia.

Guest Posting at Always Alleluia

I have the privilege of sharing my thoughts over at my blog friend Kris' lovely site Always Alleluia. I'm writing on the dissatisfied ache that creeps into all of our hearts at one time or another and the only cure I know for that restlessness. Won't you drop by for a visit and let Kris know you were there?!

Women who Inspire: The Sisterhood

Sister -  (from dictionary.com)
adjective

12. being or considered a sister; related by or as if by sisterhood: sister ships.

13. having a close relationship with another because of shared interests, problems, or the like.

I have been undeniably blessed by precious women in my life. Some close family, some that lived before my time, some have rubbed me hard smoothing away jagged edges, some young, some old, some who know my heart deeply and still love me, some I've never met. But all sharing a common relation, fellowship birthed from the blood of Jesus. Sweet family, a gift. These women have so energized my Christian walk I just had to introduce some of them to you. (I hope you will post a comment and tell me about the women who have blessed your life.)

This week's sister:
I've wrestled with writing about this week's sister. Mostly because while highlighting her generosity it exposes my neediness. But I'm compelled to share her story of kindness in hopes we may all be encouraged to be more giving people, especially myself.

My family moved in with Terry, and her husband Mike, almost seven years ago. My son Max was eighteen months at the time, when we moved out he had just turned 3; Maggie was merely a dream. We lived with them for eighteen months as we searched for God's plan and work for us. God answered and we served for four years in ministry in Wyoming.

Five months ago, after our ministry ended, we moved back in with Terry and Mike. Now a family of four, we take up a lot of space, the entire basement as a matter of fact. It's a humbling position to be in.

Home is a big deal to women, and if you've read my blog for long you'll know, it's a really big deal for me. Our earthly home echos our heavenly home, it speaks of security and belonging. I don't have a home right now, my children don't either, and we feel it.

But Terry (and Mike, but I'm writing about sisters here) shared her home with us. You don't get much more personal than a home, to me that's amazing generosity! She gives us space, shares everything, plays with my kids, loves us. Maggie adores Terry (and Mike) she follows her around like a little shadow!

How do you thank some one who has offered such kindness? I can't. I praise God that in his mercy he shows compassion and I want to live with humble generosity in response.

Have you been humbled by someone else's generosity in your life? How did you respond?

Terry and Maggie enjoying Lakeside together

{Don't forget to come back tomorrow for the Sister to Sister link up where we share words of encouragement with our online sisters. Hint, tomorrow's prompt so you can be thinking ahead is: Freedom}

Borrowed Bed

{Four months ago my husband and I left our last place of ministry, the move was due to many factors, some positive, some not. We stepped in faith with trust in the One who rescues and provides. We're living in the home of generous friends as we seek and wait. As you can imagine the financial and emotional strain is daily. My heart wrestles and I write.}

All that's left is a borrowed bed. A suitcase shoved full of dreams. Opened to the sun the dreams dissipate like a mist, and I wonder why I packed them in the first place. Maybe the faith that's been growing was plucked too green. It seemed bigger and firmer, ripe and full then, whenever then was.

When all that's left is waiting and wanting, I lay down in a borrowed bed. The ache so deep it feels eternal. The hunger of now bleeds into the hunger that's been. A soreness in the heart that came with every pack-up-and-move, all the what ifs. It's been around long enough, familiar but not like an old friend. Often it hides behind the busy moments of life, forgotten in the midst of living. In this quiet waiting it creeps back in to sit by the bed and keep watch.

For years, gaining experience, adding to a family, buying, learning and doing have felt like progress. But in the end the faith is still too green, the bed is still borrowed, and want is all too familiar. Isn't that what life is like, a borrowed bed? You come in bare and the bed you're laid in isn't one you bought. And the accumulation is an illusion. It's these moments, bereft, that the starkness stands out. Life is good and full of wonder, stars shine bright, hands hold, gifts are given. But when you stand face to face with a borrowed bed it all comes rushing back.

At least I have a bed to borrow, things to shove into a 10x10 unit, car to drive, food to eat, kids to hug, eyes to see. Why do I have this life? Why wasn't I born in the Sudan to usher innocence into pain and spend my days brushing the flies away. And yet I can't swallow the lump of loss down. The shiny dream of a work that mattered, vibrant as a rainbow, has shattered and lays as glass, only a broken jagged edged mirror of what it had been. Hope tries to float up like a bubble and I bat it away, not allowing it to form. I've been through that drill before and I flinch to go there again.

Could it be the pit of hunger I feel is the same soul hunger as the Sudanese mother, at least in origin if not in reality? I would never wish to trade places with her, ever. Yet, when stripped bare, is the ache of every heart not the same. Each soul a gaping hole of want, whether clothed in silk or in mud. And maybe the illusion of physical needs met only postpones the face to face of deep soul cry, “I want more”.

Laying on the borrowed bed I claw my way to obedience. I don't feel like worshiping, don't want to give thanks, but I do. Naming the gifts, reciting promises, asking for forgiveness, calling out in need, I flex spiritual muscles. I know I'll have to do it again and again and again. But obedience makes a way.

Later in the assembly, gathered to obey together, worship pours out. From pure lips, from scarred hearts, from dirty feet, from desperate hands, from joyful souls, all mingling together as perfume. It washes over me, that faithful sacrifice, and lifts up where my faith has faltered. Obedience has led me to a place where my ears can hear, the sound is sweet, it's life.

Light, a single ray, penetrates. Dispelling lies and sorrow and bitterness and self-pity. The cross is not for once, it's for every day. Eyes must see the gift, ears hear the call, heart know the words, again. The light of eternity falls across my borrowed bed dispelling self-pitying gloom. I come like the priests of old, into the Holy of Holy's, right up to the Mercy Seat, in the shadow of angel wings I bow.

In reality all beds are borrowed. All belongs to Him. I'm learning to grab hold of the golden moments, gifts every one, knowing one day all will be golden. A borrowed bed pushes me on to grab hold of more, more than what's seen. No golden moment is ever only that, nor the gray ones. Beauty and ugly, joy and pain mingle in this life. Only eternity justifies either. I'm living the hard worship, in the dark trust, until looking at his face faith becomes my sight.

Maybe you've had moments when nothing is enough. I think we were made that way, to be satisfied by nothing but Jesus. Even the satisfaction of good things in life is temporary. This world is not enough, because we were made for another one. Does your heart long for it's eternal home? How do you cling to hope in the hard times?

A Basket Full of Thanks {Mondays}

Counting, always counting to 1,000 gifts. Do you have moments, even beautiful moments, that feel haunted? A belly laugh with a toddler, upturned nose, eyes squeezed tight, musical sweetness. But on the edge of that moment you feel, something, a heart ache, tight squeeze of sorrow in the chest. Sometimes I feel that's my whole life. Beautiful summer days with the chill of winter close on her heels; the promise of friendship, blooming sweet, tainted by fear of disappointment; let's don't even mention prince charming. New car, pet, toy, house, vacation, bank account all vulnerable. Loss stalks us. We're a susceptible people.

What is the antidote to living in death's shadow, the hunger of home always bubbling too close for comfort? Perhaps I'm being dramatic. But some days I feel akin to a petulant child, unwilling to be comforted or settled. Never satisfied, always hungry. I feel homesick and afraid, even on good days full of summer splashing, vacation play, singing, beauty drinking, loving, the whine rises in my throat. The answer, worship. Unbridled, needful, freely given, worship. I'm learning to turn the groan into a song.

Because honestly nothing else is ever enough, not even the best, not here. Only worship recalibrates my heart, tuning to language of heaven. Spirit testifies that guarantee will become reality. Worship, setting me free to delight in the only One I was meant to be satisfied by. In this life, the ache for heaven is the always knowing that one day the hunger won't return. So, I press in to worship, I count the gifts as worship, I listen to his heart in worship, I trust he'll lead me home as I worship.

91. Worship; knowing who, learning how, giving worship.

92. Unexpected visit from an old friend, sweet conversation.

93. Authors, writing words, flowing from hearts that have been with Jesus.

94. Daddy's and sons.

  95. Quiet moments, refreshing in the hush.

96. Spiderwebs, strung across roses, shimmering strands of silver.

97. Imagination blossoming in little minds.

98. Laughter, ringing through rooms, bouncing of the walls of my heart.

99. Hot, dipping arms and legs beneath liquid cool.

100. Opening pages, comforting like an old friend, meeting living Word inside letters.

On days that you're restless what calms your heart?