In the Midst

For the first few years after we moved into our house, I sat in the backyard a lot.  If I was home, I was out there--kicking the soccer ball, chasing the chickens, playing with the dogs, reading a book and just enjoying a huge yard.  Over the years, the traffic behind my house has become non-stop and I stopped hanging out in the backyard for anything more than a quick trip to feed the chickens or call the dogs inside.

Call me redneck, but sitting with the chickens used to bring a peacefulness to my spirit like nothing else.  I felt settled and content and happy and rested.  But it's been several years since I've done that.

Yesterday morning, I went out to feed the chickens and check for eggs.   After I had filled up their food dish and sprinkled their scratch around the coop, I looked up and spied a beautiful sky.  I immediately tried to get a picture that included the chickens and the sky and found myself frustrated.  First of all, there was a metal storage building across the street that I couldn't get out of my view.  And the cars and trucks wouldn't stop passing through.  And the lighting just didn't compare to what I saw with my eyes vs. what I saw through the lens.  I finally just snapped it and sighed from disappointment.

And then I had a thought...

Maybe rest and soul work isn't always meant to be in a peaceful setting.  Maybe it's meant to be in spite of the hustle and bustle around me.  How often do I truly get time to get away and sit in quiet?  Doing that takes a lot of time and planning.

Maybe I need to create a quite space in the midst of the busyness around me.  In the midst of the traffic that won't stop.  In the midst of things in my sight that I wish weren't.  In the midst of things being less than they once were,

Maybe true rest is more about the state of my insides.  Maybe it comes in spite of the circumstances around me.

Little Things

Today, we dedicated 13 kiddos at church. One was barely a month old (and SO very tiny).  Others were wiggly toddlers.  And a few were a little older and star-struck by being on stage. 

If you know me, you also know that I do not like being on a stage.  I prefer to be in the back of the room or even in the middle.  There are a few things that make the stage so very worth it for me and dedicating babies is one of them. 

Never, in my wildest dreams would I have imagined that I would be back doing this again.  Getting to be a part of watching parents acknowledge that their kiddos are not their own and watching a church agree to partner to help raise them to know and love Jesus just makes me weepy.

My campus pastor said it well when he reminded our parents today to not forget the little things because those are the big things.  Things like baby dedication are small in the big scheme of what I do.  We dedicate kids a couple of times a year and typically have a couple dozen participating.  Compared to a regular Sunday morning, where we see hundreds of kiddos it can seem small. 

But it's not. 

As I was filling out certificates and writing in Bibles this weekend, I spent time praying for each of these kids.  That they would love Jesus while they are still young and grasp just how much he loves them. 

I prayed for their parents--that they would be surrounded by people who would encourage them and love them when they feel like they've failed.  People who would stand up and remind them that this parenting thing IS bigger than them and they can't do it alone.  People who would tell them over and over again that Jesus loves them as much as He loves their kids. 

I very distinctly remember the day we dedicated each of my girls.  I don't remember much about the kid pastors who facilitated it.  Or the class that we took.  Or even how many other parents were on stage with us.  But I DO remember the moment of publicly acknowledging that God gave us this daughter and wanting desperately for others to pour into her (and me). 

Maybe part of my weepy-ness is because school ended last Thursday and I now have a senior.  I've been telling her I was not going to be that emotional parent posting each week about how much I was gonna miss her.  But stinkin baby dedication this morning reminded me that the days are long, but the years are short. 

And gave me one more prayer for the parents who dedicated their babies today...that when their kiddo is a senior, they would look back without regret on the way they led them and loved them and pointed them to Jesus. 

I'm a Little Hoarse

Every now and then a thought will cross my mind and I will think, "you should write about that."  But I haven't.  I knew it had been a while, but didn't realize that 2019 was completely blank so far. 

My voice has changed since I started this blog.  In the beginning, it was a little squeaky.  Then it got really loud and confident--sometimes with a bit of a Texas twang in it.  Over the last few years, it's gotten a bit softer.  Part of that is probably because blogging isn't "THE" thing to do anymore.  Another reason is I'm learning I can only share my story and not others' (aka my family)--and I'm seriously the most boring in the Royal house. 

I think the biggest reason is I'm a little bit hoarse.  Back in my high school cheerleader days, I would yell so loudly on Friday, that my voice wound up raspy until Monday.  I kinda feel that way now.  I'm using my voice in other places and my voice is tired when I get home.  And like cheering at a high school football game, my voice is hoarse for good and fun reasons. 

I used to think I would write a book.  Not sure that will happen anymore, but I DO know that I will continue to blog.  My voice might not sound as polished as it once did (ok--who am I kidding--I've never been polished).  It might not ever be as loud as it once once. 

But here's something I've learned.  I don't have to be the loudest or most polished voice in the room to be heard.  I have to speak from my heart and be real.

So that's what I will continue to do.