Category Archives: community

A prayer for the aftermath

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I don’t know about you, but today I find myself once more broken over the state of our world as I weather a day of heavy hearted tears for towns ripped apart by a wave of deadly Tornados.

Something about moments like these cause us to pray “Come Lord Jesus” and “Lord, don’t take us home yet” all in the same breath, wishing to return home and clinging hard to here.

Our heavy hearts find a deep sense of gratitude in the small things that only hours ago seemed so ordinary and everyday.

Dinner dishes in safe homes with hungry mouths still open wide and chattering loudly.

We go for seconds and thirds on bedtime hugs with our children, embraces that would last for hours if it wasn’t for the wills of clean and wriggly little ones.

We wonder why we still hold so much in our hands when others are going to bed wracked and empty.

With each tragedy it all makes less sense to me and I loosen my grip on the reigns realizing that we live in a gorgeous, broken place and serve a loving, gracious God who isn’t pulling the strings on these tragedies but reminding us that he will set it all right someday.

My tears are hot with grief and salty with hope.

I shake my fists at God a little less these days and spent much more time in prayer, 1 part grateful and 5 parts desperately asking for supplication.

We may sing “Where oh death is now your sting?” but in reality even the most faithful feel that sting like a persistent fog.

So I walk through the house, I flip the news on and then off again, I put my heart into basement play time realizing that as much as I think things will never change, they already have in an instant.

How dare I waste a day of this gift?  How do I remember this feeling in a few days when my life goes back to normal so unlike so many families in Moore.

I want to scribble this truth on my arms in sharpie: “You are blessed!  Grieve with those who grieve and delve deeply into your life!”

Because I have life, and I sustain life with the gift of momentary breath.

So Oklahoma, even though I’m newly removed from your soil, I will keep washing and wearing my crimson T-shirt to remind me who I am and what you gave me.

I will turn on News 9 and pray and cry for by the grace of God my Oklahoma children are still here, still making messes and asking for warm milk.

I pray yours are too.

Peace to you, the Peace of Christ to you

What Oklahoma Gave me: A Beginning

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HouseCollage1

Hello from a laundry basket in the middle of our mostly empty living room floor.

I have a grapefruit sized lump in my throat that makes basic function tricky.

I can see the sun coming up through the oval leaded glass window on our front door and it rises on my last moments in this home.  (and it’s all soundtracked by Jamey Johnson’s “In Color“)  

(If it looks like we were scared to death like a couple of kids just trying to save each other… you should have seen it in color)

And suddenly I’m watching a music montage of my own life happening all around me Continue reading →

What Oklahoma Gave me: Beans and Cornbread (humility of place)

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What Oklahoma Gave Me

Yesterday I said it a little. Today I am going to say it a lot: I was pretty snobby when I arrived in Ada.  Before we ever arrived in our rental house Kel’s board members loaded up our fridge with food so that we wouldn’t have to do a grocery run upon arrival.

I assured Kel that they wouldn’t get it right and that I’d end up throwing most of it away, after all they were southerners and I didn’t like chicken fried steak or fried pickles.  (I know… I know… pretentious with a capital P!)

I’m pretty sure that I scoffed and made jokes about what I found in the fridge, turning up my nose at most of it.  I have no idea what I was trying to prove to the state of Oklahoma, but… ugh…what a snob.

So, when I heard about the classic Oklahoma dish “beans and cornbread” I turned my nose up at it.  Who would just eat beans and bread for dinner?  What Nonsense…Crazy Okies!

Then I was given 2 ham bones and a bag of pinto beans all in the same week and the die was cast.  I don’t waste food and Beans and Cornbread fit the bill.

So I simmered up a big ol’ pot of beans on my stove and dove in that evening with a little pretentious sour cream and cilantro on top.  And I loved it, A lot… like A LOT A LOT.  

As The Pioneer Woman says: There’s something so pure and elemental about a pot of dried beans, don’t you think?

Yes Ree, Yes I do.

So now, when it’s chilly or rainy or I just plain feel like it… I grab my large, red dutch oven and start a pot of beans to boil on the stove.  And then I promptly feel like an unlikely Okie and a pioneer of sorts.

Because there isn’t a thing that’s pretentious about a pot of beans for dinner.  It’s simple cowboy food, something I make when the budget is tight but we need protein on the cheap.

And with every bite of beans and crumbled morsel of cornbread I swallow a bit of humble pie.

Because it turns out that Beans and Cornbread is great and that every state has delicious flavor to bring to the table.  And I’m not just talking about food here.

There is no superior state in the union, or place on earth that’s necessarily better than any other.  Oklahoma is the perfect fit for the souls who were cut out for it.  It’s a land and a life beloved my many people I love myself.

 beans and cornbread

And so it was that Beans and Cornbread gave me not only delicious food, but a hearty lesson in humility.  Also it helped me give up my Oklahoma bashing once and for all, and that caused me to surrender the practice of bashing altogether.

Every place is someone’s beloved home, whether they live there or not.  Even if Oklahoma’s not for me it’s certainly for some people, most of them my current friends and neighbors.

This lesson doesn’t just apply to humility of place but to a slew of other things as well.

There is almost always more then one way to do things whether it’s parenting, church, diet, house color, mailbox style, fashion sense… the list is endless.

The only instance I can think of where this doesn’t apply is in “what order should one dust and vacuum?”  And in this case it’s dust first vacuum second I don’t care what you say.

But really, truly we should stop our bashing on other people’s way of life.  It’s pretty pointless, even if we happen to be right we aren’t doing anything but gossip or complain.  

We help no one and accomplish nothing.

So now I’m a more humble person, I make cornbread and I praise the grand state of Oklahoma for all it’s given me and in honor of all those who love it and call it home.

Thank you oklahoma for Beans, Cornbread and all that humble pie.  (Here’s my favorite recipe for beans and cornbread... which I make with a ham bone or bacon)

What unlikely source gave you a hearty dose of humility?

What dish did you once hate and now can’t help but love?

What Oklahoma Gave Me: Church

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What Oklahoma Gave Me

Our time in Oklahoma is drawing rapidly to a close.  It’s been five years since our moving truck arrived here in Ada, OK after exiting at the Wayne Payne exit and driving through an hour of nothingness. Some days it feels like it’s flown by and then others I can’t believe we’ve ever lived anywhere else.

As I drive around town and move my feet through our awful WalMart, Our favorite park and our beloved church I’m starting to feel like a ghost. I can feel myself fading away from these spaces and it’s ever so bittersweet.

I see our footprints all over town, cataloged in moments and photographs. This place has shaped me into the woman I am today, our other homes did as well, but it feels like Ada bore the brunt of it.

My heart swells with love for this town, these roads, these walls and these people have woven themselves into my story.  I am thankful, deeply, powerfully thankful to Oklahoma for all that it’s given me.

So I’m going to spend a week thanking Oklahoma for the gifts, joys and memories, pouring over my keyboard with teary words. This will be a heart-taxing week and I’m not sure I’m ready.

First Off: I want to say thank you to Oklahoma for our church, H2O Church.  This is the place that has sustained me in a somewhat foreign land.  Yesterday I walked out the doors for the last time (for now) and my heart could hardly bear it.

This place has given me a sense of what Church Truly Is that I deeply needed, it was part nourishing and part kick in the pants.  I went from being a church critic and consumer to being spiritual contributor, a lover of the bride of Christ.

One of our church’s core values is: The church does not exist for us. We are the church and we exist for the world. This focus will forever change the way our family does ministry and I love it endlessly.

We stepped foot into our church, on main street in the heart of town the day after our moving truck settled into our rental home with the 1970s kitchen. I was newly pregnant and completely overwhelmed, I had no idea which end was up in my own life, given the fact that nearly everything had recently changed.

We choose it because it was the only contemporary church that supported my husband’s ministry.  There were a lot of colored lights, a smoke machine and at the end of each service they did an “ask” where people were invited to ask Christ into their hearts.

Not only that, the sermons weren’t live, we watched a feed from a larger sister church in Oklahoma City, that was weird and trendy…. I wasn’t sure I was okay with it.

It was a challenge for me, I’d never been this evangelical before.  I was sort of a snob when I arrived in Ada, and when it came to church I had big, huge, snarky opinions which I  always flung upon Kel the second our car doors clicked shut.

But, at some point in the last five years I laid most of my snarky ways down in the flow of the love of God at the hands of his people. When you feel the spirit moving and the authentic, powerful love of God all around you… style just doesn’t matter that much anymore and snark smells awful in your own nostrils.  

You just let God work and do your part to be a member church as much as best you can.

You try to get your snarky, crazy, humanity to make way for the refreshing work of the Spirit. You worry less about what you’re getting and focus more on what you have to offer, how you can give more.

This church provided my bread and wine in every possible way.

When we arrived I wondered if anyone would come to the hospital when I had Noelle, but our church was there, they sent flowers and brought meals to our door.

When my mom died our church was at our door at 1 am with a basket of travel essentials for our arduous drive to Michigan.

They Christmas Caroled our house that year when my heart was too broken to feel the joy of that season.

They were there again when Caedmon was born, laughing with me as we prayed that my bladder would start working and I wouldn’t need another catheter… “Dear Lord, we pray to pee.”  Oh the camaraderie of women and childbirth… it’s a club I love to participate in.

This church has given me so much and taken a piece of my heart that belongs properly in those walls with these people. 

So… Dear Oklahoma, Dear Lord, thank you for this Church on main street, this place where your spirit dwells in the hearts of your people. Thank you for all you have given me here and all you’e taught me to give away.  Dear H2O family, I am eternally and forever grateful for you, you’ve changed our family and we don’t walk away easily.  Amen and whimper.

Friends Far Away (Five Minute Friday Link Up)

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Today I’m linking up with Lisa Jo Baker at Five Minute Friday where we write for only five minutes on a certain topic, no proofing, no editing, just raw writing.  Today we write about friends… and Go!

I love these ladies, I love this picture because it captures a moment when friendship went from screens to skin.

I love these ladies, I love this picture because it captures a moment when friendship went from screens to skin and kept growing.

I have often thought of making myself a friend map, at this point it would be a map of North America, but in the future?  who knows?

On it I would put a star for everywhere I have a friend, all these places I would like to visit and share a mug of coffee and a nice. long. chat.

The kind that gets away from you and you look at your phone and realize that you’ve been at it for over two hours.  Just laughing and catching up.  You haven’t even gotten to the good stuff yet, the nitty gritty, the stuff you know you need to bear to a trusted friend.

In my dreams there’s this neighborhood where we all live together, borrowing cups of flour and going out for tuesday night trivia to the wine bar.  We have play dates and pop over to watch Grey’s Anatomy together, because it’s better than doing it alone.  I love TV and snark.

In this neighborhood we don’t ache for each other, we don’t count the miles and wish they were fewer.  But this dream neighborhood will always remain in my dreams.  I will always have friends scattered all across the country.

If I move closer to some I move farther away from others, always missing those who have moved their ways forever into my heart.  Right now I’m preparing to renter into my Michigan community and say goodbye to the Oklahoma group I’ve loved and done life with for the last five years.

And It’s ever so bittersweet.

And then there’s my online friends, like you probably.  I consider us friends, I mention you in conversation over dishes, and Kel goes.. who?  Because you haven’t had dinner at our table… Yet.

But I’m working, longing to change it, to meet you, to send you a real handwritten card.

Because my friends are all over and skin doesn’t dictate soul bearing.

And I need you all, skin, screens, cards, paper, friends.  Thank you you.  Thank you God.

Amen. Selah. The End.

Quilting my womanhood

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One of my favorite modern theologians is Rich Mullins, I get this from my Dad, who I believe has coffee with Rich on a regular basis.  In my heaven they’re buds, don’t challenge my doctrine please and thank you.

One of my favorite quotes from Rich Mullins is this:  “I think, writing-wise, I am probably more of a quilter than a weaver because I just get a little scrap here and a little scrap there and sew them together.”

I adore the idea of quilting l and I’ve found that this quote rings true, not only for writing but  parenting, cooking, reading, self-image and marriage as well.

We truly are quilters, gathering scraps from each other and sewing them into the fabric of our lives, piecing together something entirely new.

I made my first quilt of sorts this past weekend, an easter skirt for Noelle. I cut and gathered scraps of fabric and pieced them together to make up the swirly bottom of the skirt.  I used some new patterns from the local quilt store and some leftovers from my rainbow suitcase of fabric, a huge old trunk full of scraps all lined up and waiting to be repurposed.

There is something magical about taking a little stack of squares and creating something harmonious, all the fabrics singing together like a choir.  Suddenly you take it off the machine and you’ve created something entirely new and original and completely whole.

It’s not “less than lovely” because it’s comprised of found materials, rather it’s more beautiful for the patchwork, more interesting for the hodgepodge.

Lately I’ve spent a lot of time thinking of my sense of womanhood as a quilt and reflecting on all the different pieces I’ve collected over the years.  Every session I spend in reflection leaves me a touch more thankful and inspired.

Growing up with an overwhelmed and depressed mom left me confused about it means to be a woman and to be honest, I didn’t want to be one.  I hid my body and balked at the though of someone referring to me as a woman rather than a girl.

I thought that womanhood may undo me, that any bumps and bruises would mar my heart for life.  I saw myself as weak and unworthy.

I remember the first time I consciously added a scrap to my quilt of womanhood. I was working at Asbury Seminary for two woman, both named Tammy. They were strong and lovely, brave and hilarious, gracious and intelligent.  They were both single and raising three kids after difficult divorces.  To my surprise they didn’t live their lives in despair, there wasn’t an ounce of bitterness, only a vibrant zest for life and God.

Since then I have been gathering scraps here and there, so many friends and bloggers have become unwitting mentors and spiritual mothers to me.

I’ve quilted the way my friend Sandy thoughtfully loves her people
The way my Aunts weave God into every conversation
The way my Grandma prays for her grandkids and gathers us as a close-knit family
Sarah Bessey’s gentle mothering
Rachel Held Evan’s brave quest to bring truth
Anne Bogel’s intentional take on life

The list doesn’t stop here, so many women have given me valuable lessons that I’ve sewed into my quilt, God has used so many of you to teach me what it means to be a fully alive daughter.

For too long I thought I was just a little sister copy-cat of better mothers, writers and women.  Always running behind them, doing what they’re doing, hoping to be notices and deemed acceptable.

quilt pic

This weekend as I gathered and stitched together the squares I realized that all fabric is woven from existing threads.  Nothing starts out whole, it’s woven from something else.  We are all quilters. This doesn’t makes us boring copy cats, this practice of scrap gathering is a beautiful practice indeed.

As we gather and stitch, the pieces becomes so many and the pattern so wild that each quilt is something entirely new and breathtaking.

A daughter living out her God-woven gifts is one of the most lovely experiences on earth.

Through our mothering, singing, painting, doctoring, writing, cooking, teaching, quilting we bring God to life through our hands and he is truly worshipped.

Suddenly money, square feet, job titles, marital statuses and dress sizes don’t define us but rather the very act of glorifying God through the fabric of our souls.

You are not a copy cat, we’re all quilts friends and we were made to give and take scraps from each other, to mentor each other by simple proxy.

You are a part of my quilt and I am flattered beyond words for the gift of your scraps.

Tell me about your quilt, who do you love to gather scraps from?  

New Blogwarming Party, Welcome!

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Hiya!  And welcome to our new space, this is where we get to hang out from now on! Isn’t it cozy and fantastic?  Plus it’s aqua, which is my favorite color in the world, the color of our wedding, our dishes, our bedspread… you get the idea.

Would you mind at all if I gave you a little tour?  Then I want to give you a present, is that alright?

See the top navigation bar?  ^ Nearly all the words in there are brand new, I’ve spent time weaving them so intentionally.

There are even some new features there, especially the “my people” link, where you can get to know some of my sweetest friends.  I’ll be adding to this list as we go.

One of the most functional changes is the new Disqus commenting system.  If you haven’t used it before you will need to create a user name, but after that it will be ever so much easier and will free up the dialogue here.  Trust me, I’ve put some thought into this.

Over to your right you’ll notice those lovely aqua (squeeee!) buttons underneath my picture (which I realize needs changing)  You can use those buttons to connect with me in all sorts of ways, now including Pinterest and Instagram!

Oh and that signature down there?  It’s my real handwriting.  And that flower?  That’s my doodle, I put it on oh… everything from sermon notes to handwritten cards.

Sorry about all the ! I’m excited, and in fact I’m not sorry, this redesign has been in the works since September. Continue reading →

Home for Christmas and the Miracle of the Bat Jerky

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The miracle of the Bat Jerky

The miracle of the Bat Jerky

Well guys, we made it home for Christmas!  The journey from Ada, OK to Hudsonville, MI took us an unprecedented 22 hours but somehow we arrived in one piece.

God’s hand was on our van and he protected us from winter storm Draco.  I really know it was going to be alright when he sent us “The miracle of bat-jerky” God had our backs like a caped crusader.

The only remnants of the winter storm we encountered was the wind, which was sometimes gusting across our van at speeds of 22 MPH.  As we drove through Illinois we saw at least 3 semi trucks that had tipped over on the side of the road due to the ice and wind.

onion rings on a car antenna, why not!?

onion rings on a car antenna, why not!?

The best part of the trip was what we’re now calling “the miracle of Portage” where we met up with two other carloads of family, mid-journey and had a reunion lunch at Quaker Steak and Lube (a car themed restaurant which the kids loved and actually served good quality food- color me pleasantly surprised… although Lube fries?  Salad Lubes?  Really?)

Get out your mental maps, this part gets confusing:

We were traveling from Ada, OK to Hudsonville, MI

My Uncle Jim and Aunt Mar were traveling from Hudsonville, MI to Chicago, IL

My brother was flying from San Antonio, TX into Chicago O’Hare where his wife Lisa picked him up.

Somehow we all passed through Portage Indiana within 3o minutes of each other and got to enjoy a two hour lunch.  It’s always so good to see my brother, even if it’s always in his military garb.

Also, good news! He’ll be stationed at a hospital in Kansas after he finishes in San Antonio, so he will likely never get deployed to the Middle East.  And all the people said PRAISE GOD! Continue reading →

Grandma Verkaik’s Sugar Cookies (a Christmas Cookie Exchange Link-up)

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Today I am going to teach you how to make the Christmas cookies that our family has been making for about 50 years.  And I’m thrilled to share it, and even more thrilled to read all of your heirloom recipes and the stories that go with them.

My Aunts and Uncles have memories of these cookies that extend back into their childhood.  They remember eating them as children and then returning thousands of miles from college to help roll them out and decorate them together.

As for me, I can’t remember a time when these cookies weren’t a huge part of my Christmas.  My dad always made them at home along with 6 other traditional cookie recipes.  He had an affinity for christmas tree shaped cookies, frosted green with green sugar sprinkles. He didn’t like to get crazy with the decorating and I must confess I’m still partial to a good ol’ green tree.

Not only that, but every year growing up my Grandparents would rent a cottage for our family so that we could spend a weekend together over the holidays.  My Dad was 1 of 5 and I have 13 first cousins, so this was no small gathering.

We would play Euchre on card tables, spend hours in the snow and stay up late telling stories and plotting practical jokes.

At some point over the weekend we would roll out these Christmas cookies by the dozens and then spend the next 24 hour devouring them with hot chocolate from a huge thermos.

I love that because of my Grandparent’s intentional living, my cousins and I have these recipes and memories in common. Continue reading →