Last week I wrote about the fear of hospitality – the fear of opening up my home.

But it happened – (in)RL took place among the peeling paint and holes in the ceiling. And, you know what? It was GOOD. Community and hospitality, they were good.

Nine ladies gathered together for food and relationship building. We connected over the stories of women brave enough to share their hearts wth us. We talked about food, kids, gardening, and raising chickens in our backyards. We decorated journals to record those future stories that God will give us – those stories He’ll use to reveal His working in us.

I was afraid. Afraid of judgment, remarks falling flat, and the feeling of not enough. But none of that came.

This year I turn 35. And only in the last 5 years have I truly had community. I’m finally understanding that I’m not the only one who wants and needs a safe place to tell their story. We all want a haven of friendship. We all need a place, a friend, that will love us through the ugly times.

Community, and even more, hospitality isn’t so scary now. The desire for connecting and the fear of ‘not enough’ will always be in conflict. But, God gives the strength to fight the fear so we can be that safe haven of friendship that He intends us to be for each other.

Hospitality – like a four-letter word that strikes fear into my heart.

I’ll do most anything for you – Clean your house, bring you supper, watch your kids. But opening up my home is rather scary – the last thing I’d want to do.

Can I tell you something? It’s because I’m ashamed. Ashamed of my home and what you may think of me and my husband. Will you question our worth because of the exposed walls and holes in the ceiling? Will you question if I’m a good mother because of the peeling paint and the paper wall? Will you doubt my husband’s ability to provide because of the plastic table where we eat?

In(RL) is coming up in a few short days and I am thrilled! This is the second year I’ve hosted. Last year we met in a local coffee shop. This year it’ll be at my house.

God is using this meet-up to remove the fear of hospitality. The greater purpose here is to minister to others, not fear what they’ll think about me.

Did you notice the difference in those two sentences? The first focused on others. The second on me.

The fear is legitimate – the shame as well. But those things need to be given to the Father. How many opportunities to love on others have I missed over the years because I’ve held those burdens close?

This may always be a struggle. But I’m learning to slowly unfurl my fingers, let go of the burdens, and rest in Christ.

Praying that you will do the same, with whatever your clasping. Let it go.

To register for in(RL) and to see what all the hub-bub is about, head over to                (in)courage. We would love to have you join us as we share out stories.

Everyone’s story matters.

It’s spring here in South Carolina and the warm weather has moved in to stay it seems. Yesterday afternoon, while I was hanging laundry in our back yard, I witnessed an amazing event.

My 6- year old son, was marrying my 4-year old daughter. And these are the vows that he made to her:

“I will never leave you.

I will stay with you forever.

I will love you forever.”

How is it, that my boy, just getting out of the baby stage, knows what it means to be married? To commit one’s life to another? The vows were so simple yet encapsulate all the flowery self-written and traditional vows that are spoken. Maybe just maybe, my husband and I, in our sin-tainted, bumbling, grace-drenched way, have conveyed to him the raw meaning of a marriage commitment.

And then I think, isn’t that what Christ says to us:

” I will never leave you.

I will stay with you forever.

I will love you forever.”

 We, the church, are His bride and He has whispered these words to us throughout His Word.

Today I’m linking up with the girls over in the in(courage) Writers Group. We’ve been given an assignment to write an open letter to our inner critic.

Dear Shadow,

I’ve known you for awhile now, really my whole life. You’ve sat next to me on several occasions, whispering criticisms in my ear. You’ve never held my hand as the Encourager does, but have picked and hissed. You’ve declared me unfit, unworthy, and just plain un-. You were there on the playground when you convinced me that my clothes weren’t good enough. You were there in high school when you told me I was awkward and not pretty. You’ve stood beside me as I’ve fumbled through adult-hood and stood next to me on the threshold of motherhood. Always whispering why I can’t.

On the heels of thoughts to encourage others, you come in with reasons why those encouraging words won’t matter. Then you tell me, that I’m nobody – who would want to listen to me anyway. You make me question the gifts God has given. In fact you had me believing for the longest time that I was one who God hadn’t bestowed any gifts upon.

But this is changing now. You can’t make me feel twelve again. You can’t make me feel like I don’t have anything to offer. And do you know why? Because I have a Savior who knows my name. I’m a child of the King and He says I have value and worth. He has given me permission to pray for others and to exercise that gift of encouragement that He has placed on me.

As of today I’m ending our relationship and fully intend to no longer indulge in pity parties. You’ve always been the best party planner, by the way.

So, with pen in hand, I will write to build others up. From now on I’ll be hiding His words in my heart, not yours.

Sincerely,

Danielle

I sit on the couch for the umpteenth time, reading to the crowd. They are squirming, making noises with their teeth, pulling at their siblings, touching my glasses, and yet I still yearn to read to these little people. I found some old books the other day in a box in the corner of the attic. They are books from my childhood, old friends that brought me through many a lonely day. Charlotte’s Web, 101 Dalmatians, The Prince and Pauper, to name a few. And I want to introduce my children to these old friends of mine.

So, I will head to the couch again this afternoon, and open the book to read about Zuckerman’s Famous Pig. Though a headache will come from the crowd pressing in, I will resolve to read on, because there is magic in books. The wonder that can happen when a page is turned is palpable and I want them to feel it. I want them to be in awe of the words and where they can take you – the friends you can meet. Hopefully they’ll feel the same one day, only their memories will be filled with a little more joy, and they’ll remember how we crowded together to travel to far of places.

Am I willing? That is a huge question to ask. Willing to do what? Whatever God asks, comes the quiet answer. I’ve pondered the concept of the God-sized Dream for the last several months, and only recently have come to wonder what that really looks like. At first glance it means something really big and grand. God is huge, isn’t He? Greater than we can ever comprehend, so a dream of His magnitude has to match that – it has to be big. but, I don’t think so anymore.

 You see, I’ve been thinking about what that dream could look like for each of us. What if that God-sized dream was really about what He has for us and not for what we want for ourselves? And, are we willing to do that. Are we willing to fulfill that dream that says “love your neighbor as yourself”? Am I willing to be okay with  the possibility that I may never meet the girls at the Mercy House and tell them that I’ve prayed for them for years? Am  willing to fulfill that commandment if it just means taking my unemployed neighbor a loaf of bread? Am I willing to let go of the desire to be known by others and rest in the fact that He knows me and calls me Child?

 He’s causing a shift in my thinking – He’s reworking my definition of a God-sized dream. And, yes, Lord, I’m willing.

This afternoon my son asked me to look up some pictures of something he’d learned about in history. So, off to the computer I went. I sent him and  his sister from the room first to make sure there wasn’t anything inappropriate for little eyes. When I was satisfied, I called him back and we talked about the pictures.

Interesting thing about searches. Other phrases are recommended or what is popular is put at the top of the page. My heart sank when I looked up because one click could have taken me to some very dangerous waters. Thankfully, my boy can’t read yet. But, one day he will and one day the tempter will nudge his curiosity.

But that won’t happen on my watch. This mamma will grab the Sword in one hand and the Shield in the other all the while begging God to guard her son’t heart. He’s only mine for a season and has no clue to the danger – to the one seeking to destroy his soul. He has no discernment at his age, so it is up to me to protect him the best I can. Now I am off to research internet filters and in my heart I’m hitting my knees, praying that the One who made the stars and can quicken men to life, will protect my little men.

Do you have any recommendations? What internet filters have you found to be most effective?