Category Archives: purpose

home feels like…

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Tulips

Greetings from my dining room table in Michigan!  As you’d expect there are still boxes everywhere and my brain is fried… and then some… then some more.

But guys?  I’m just so happy to be back in Michigan, I’m feeling all the feels but mainly the overjoyed kind.

The most random things bring out the happy tears from me these days like green grass and grocery shopping.  I always thought that I would be adventurous and live somewhere truly exotic but it turns out that there is something about West Michigan that will always feel like home.  And now it feels like right here!

I want to write a sonnet for you about what coming home feels like… but for now I can only manage a list-style post, forgive me?

So here are the things that are thrilling me these days, the stuff of dreams that ring of home, of the right here right now of our life.

1) Sprawling lawns, carpets of soft fescue grass
2) Springtime flower beds dotted with every sort of tulip
3) A short drive to hobby lobby for creative supplies with Noelle
4) Cool breezes through our slider door, which looks out onto tall trees.
5) My Aunt Mar stopping over for a walk in the evening
6) Neighbor kids riding bikes down the street outside my front window
7) Tall trees, with bright spring leaves
8) Oberon on tap
9) The lure of Lake Michigan only 20 minutes away.
10) Drive through coffees at Biggby
11) Neighbors who stop over with cake and welcome cards
12) Planning girls nights in downtown Grand Rapids
13) Old friends asking to stop over and bring dinner.
14) Playing soccer on the front lawn.
15) Sleeping with the windows wide open and waking up to the morning song of bird life.
16) The joys of having a basement!
17) Crab Rangoon from Great Lakes Chinese enjoyed with friends who unloaded the truck
18) The promise of the Tulip Time Parade on Saturday
19) Grocery Shopping at Meijer
20) The hand of God doing more than I dared hope or trust in… like always.

Perhaps I’ll try to do a photo post soon of our new life here in Michigan?  It’s all weird and in-between as Kel finalizes job stuff and we head into summer but we are settling in and oh so happy.

What rings of home for you?  What simple pleasures bring silly, satisfied tears to your eyes?

My Short Stint as a Preschool Teacher (or small faithful = big lovely)

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Thursday the “Mother’s Day Out” preschool where I was working shut it’s doors permanently.  I hadn’t been there long, only 5 short weeks. I only started working there to make some extra money for our impending move.

So when they gathered the teachers this past Tuesday and told us they were shutting the program down,  I’m not sure if I felt relieved or sad. I suppose it was a mix of the two.  It had been a hard month of work, of learning the ropes, the politics and the kids.  And just when I thought I had a knack for it? It was over with a few quick words from the director.

I couldn’t help wondering what the point of my short stint as a preschool teacher had been.  Was I supposed to work there in the first place? Did I misread the plan?

Yet, this past week: God, with his wit and wisdom has been show me that longevity and notoriety has nothing at all with his ability to change lives.  He needs faithful hands for both the short and long term.

In my mind my time at the preschool was nothing extraordinary.  I’d simply gone to work, poured goldfish, changed diapers, read books and played blocks upon blocks.

But to God, I opened up a channel with which he could show love and grant grace.  A usable connection to affirm his worth and establish his kingdom in a simple preschool playroom.  And on our last day, several of my Mothers told me that I was a regular topic of dinner conversation, and a big part of why their kids wanted to come to school.

They’d noticed the change in their kids since I’d started and they were thankful to God that I showed up.

And now it was over, I said goodbye to those three year olds forever and watched their mothers walk them to the car.  Their age and the brevity of our time together assured me that my work and presence in their lives would soon be forgotten.  

biglovely

Yet, as I always do, I was completely underestimating God’s ability to use the scraps of my faithfulness in the big picture of his overarching plan.   I’m beginning to see that he can use the smallest acts of love and faithfulness to adjust the trajectory of a life forever.

And moreover I was believing in the lie that God is only working through the works of those who are receiving the highest accolades and notoriety, and since that wasn’t me I thought that my small faithfulness was unusable to him.  I worried that the work of my hands was nothing more than adequate effort, forever passed over in favor of lovelier choices.

So often we believe that only the big dogs make a difference, but it’s utter BS.  So what if you’re a small church, a little movement, an introverted youth worker or whatever your case may be?  The enemy is thrilled when we believe that small is insufficient, because it leads to doubt and so often surrender.

But we have to remember that everything in the world, even the big things, are comprised of small faithfulness and discouraging turn outs.  God uses the small works, the simple acts of showing up to bring about his purpose in the lives of his children.  And when his kids feel his love and affirmation the ripple effect is unpredictable and revolutionary.

So if your numbers are done
Your job is gone
The time seemed too short
The outcome wasn’t what you hoped for
You wonder if this is your calling or if it’s time to give up…

Don’t think it was for naught, God uses the work of your hands for his beautiful glory, and what more can we hope for when it comes to the fruit of our time?  God wants your faithfulness and sees it as every bit as lovely as that of the people your comparing yourself to.  

Your small faithful is big lovely, lets stop forgetting the God into whose hands we commit the works of our days.

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?  

All things for good (on 8 years without my Father)

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Today marks 8 years since I lost my Dad, and I hate it.

I hate everything about it.

I hate looking at the landscape of our lives and not seeing him there.  I see his fingerprints all over the place, but those joyful eyes behind the paint speckled glasses?  They’re nowhere to be found.

Somedays I can’t believe he’s gone and others I struggle to remember what it was like to have a Dad at all, a Dad to call with tears or mortgage questions.

I tell the kids about him sometimes, but mostly they’re too young to understand. I tell Caedmon that he has his Grandpa’s middle name and I tell Noelle that she has a nose just like her Grandma’s.

I tell them: “I had a mommy and daddy too and they’re in heaven with Jesus and they love us all very much.”

Some people may see 8 years of grieving my Father and think: “Wow, she’s still not over it?” To those people I say this: “When you lose a parent, you’re never truly over it, there is always a unfilled gap, which is okay.”

And somedays that void takes the form of a lump in my throat, sometimes it causes my eyes to tear up because I just want my Daddy.  Somedays don’t we all?   And on those days when I need my Dad but can’t have him I ache on a cellular level.

I want to revert back to calling his cell phone and listening to his voice mail message over and over again.

“His this is Dave, please leave a message.” 

I stil remember the inflection of every word.

Somehow, shortly after he died it was put upon me to design and purchase my Dad’s headstone. I knew nothing about headstones, all I knew is that I wanted it to look as little like a headstone as possible.  Nothing grey, no block letters, I just couldn’t go there. Continue reading →

Spoiled, but not rotten?

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© Goranmulic | Dreamstime Stock Photos & Stock Free Images

© Goranmulic | Dreamstime Stock Photos & Stock Free Images

I’ve spent a lot of time in our mini-van lately, last weekend to Dallas, this past weekend a day trip to Oklahoma City.  As my eyes take in the landscape of the southern plains, my mind wanders to all the different regions of this country, reflecting on all I have seen, and how freely we’re able to hop in the car and go.

Lately as my eyes take in the ever changing landscape, from small mountains to trees to scrubby grasslands, I can’t help but think about the freedom we have.  The freedom to be. To go. To live.

I hold our mobility incredibly close to my heart as a freedom, a gift.  A short road trip, something trivial for us, is a huge freedom for many in this world who may never know a world beyond their own 10 mile radius.

Yet, here we are free to strap our children safely in our van as they stare at little screens and eat healthy snacks and sip clean water from character themed sippy cups.

When we get to our destination they play happily in a water park or build custom stuffed animals with both parents by their sides.  Later in the evening we have our food brought to us at restaurants of our choosing.

Oh Lord, we have so much, we have too much, we have everything.

With a little hard work and elbow grease we can improve our already fabulous situation, we can move across the country, change careers, aspire, dream, achieve. Continue reading →

My Manna (what’s sustaining me)

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heart bread

This week I told you that I picked up some extra work to improve our financial situation. Well, in doing so I gave up my Tuesday and Thursday kid-free work time, it’s all the way gone.  I had no idea how deeply this would wear on me until the weekend came and I realized that I’ve had little to no quiet-alone time in the past few weeks.

I’m the sort of person who needs to retreat to process life, and life just hasn’t allowed for that lately.  Even my writing is crammed into stress-filled spaces and is starting to feel like a burden instead of a joy.

I eluded to this in my What I’m into February post but I can’t stay awake in the evenings anymore.  As soon as, and sometimes before, the kids fall asleep, I conk out on the couch and Kel nudges me to bed as I mutter protests like: “But I miss you, we never talk anymore.” or “I have stuff I want to do now that they’re sleeping….”

But I obey and fall asleep with unbrushed teeth and makeup still in place.  I regret it in the morning, but let’s be honest, I’m already asleep and sleeping people don’t swing by the sink.

This is a tough rhythm to sustain and tonight Kel and I are going to talk about how to change things up a bit to squeeze in some much needed self-care.  But I know that in the long run it will be one of those “push through” and “it’s just for a season” times in our life and I’m making my peace with it.

Yet, God keeps feeding me with nibbles here and there and they’re my manna, just enough, nothing extravagant but 100% nourishing for the next step. Continue reading →

My jealous-bone-ectomy (a slow surgery)

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freeimage-1273890

Change is often a slow process, an evolution in which you don’t notice what’s happening until it’s nearly completed.  Generally, we’re reluctant to give ourselves credit for positive progress until we’re only feet from the finish line.

Often change just slowly ripples across our lives until one day it’s eroded us into someone completely different than the last time we checked.

As for me this needed change, the one that was a long time coming, was to break the cycle of living in jealousy, to have my jealous bone removed if you will.  

This rhythm of jealousy was suffocating me from the inside out. I was living a life of hopeless inferiority on every front: as a mother, a wife, a writer, a Christian, a woman.

I often felt like the little sister of whatever world I was operating in.  Always chasing after the big girls, hoping that they would notice me, play with me.  Ever praying that someday I would be as fabulous and confident as they were.

Over the last year I realized that this inner belief that of jealousy, of “less-than”, was my most life-stealing issue.  I was always so busy being jealous that I had no time to feel joy all around me, my thoughts were ever elsewhere.  Continue reading →

Kuyper Coffee Dates- Thursday

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KuyperCoffeeDates_zpse49f9fa2 Hello and welcome to our Thursday coffee date, what are you drinking?  Me?  French Press house blend with a splash of almond milk, cheers.

So last night I took my treasured stack of Kuyper student letters to bed with me and devoured them like they were a black forest brownie sundae.  I only read them in short bursts because I always want to save some for later, I don’t want them to run out!

I’m always flattered, touched and blown over by what these students picked up on.  I’m so giddy to be sharing it with you guys, Squeeeee!  So giddy!

Can I share two non-questions first?  I hope the students don’t mind….

First of all this gem makes me do a happy dance cha-cha, read on and you’ll see why:

“I better understand my own mother’s point of view on life.  The busyness of trying to get three small children fed and ready for church and school, how tired she much have felt everyday, how even when everyone else could sit and rest she stayed on her feet to make sure had clean clothes to wear and hot food to eat.  I have always appreciated my mom but now I see her with more understanding.  For that, I am grateful.”

I love you student!  Go give your mom a hug, maybe bring her a latte?  I am so glad that you picked up on this because I had no clue how much my mom (and Dad) went through until I was in the thick of it: doling out snacks and matching up tiny socks, dead on my feet.  Reading this made me ridiculously happy, gold star for you!

And then this:

“most of the time Leanne plays the part of a witty, spunky, sage minister”

Ah!  That may be one of the best compliments I’ve received in my life and no lie, I am adding it into my twitter bio immediately, I may get it tattooed on my arm too, you know, for good measure.

Okay, now that those two amazing student quotes are out of the way onto the questions.

“I would ask Leanne about her own view on parenting because she seems to have had a hard childhood with two very different parents, how has this changed her view of what it means to be a parent? What sides will she draw from, or not draw from?”

Okay so for starters this isn’t an easy question to answer but it’s a great one. I honestly believe that I was blessed with two amazing parents who were struggling through some hard circumstances and illnesses.  I thank God for them on a daily basis and I no longer hold their struggles against them.

There are definitely positives from my childhood that we’re recycling in the here and now.  Kel and I are very intentional about surrounding discipline with a lot of conversation and these moments look a lot more like discipling than discipline.  We also work on intentionally lifting our children up verbally, especially in the areas where they have shortcomings. 

We spend a lot of time together as a unit and want our children to feel a sense of belonging within our family.  We want to be a close knit group and create a strong foundation of memories for them to build upon, they are our loved children and each other’s dear friends.  

Now onto the things I’m mimicking.  My mom was deliberate about reading to me when I was little and when I sit with my kids and read I feel her spirit rejoicing.  As for my Dad?  He was really good at championing our passions, if we were truly into something he was all about fostering that.  He was the lead band booster for my brother and never missed a single one of my choir concerts.  This is something Kel and I are intentional about repeating with our own kids.

“If I could sit down with her and talk, I would ask her how she is able to be so open with such a public audience.”

For as long as I can remember I have worn my emotions on the outside, for everyone to see, sometimes this bit me in the butt.  I don’t discuss my heart with just anyone but when I feel comfortable I don’t hold back on what’s really going in my heart.

I’ll be honest with you, I don’t share everything on this blog, because some emotions aren’t helpful and some stories aren’t mine to share.  Yet, when it comes to my personal questions on faith and the grittiness of the journey I believe that God has called me to share what’s on my heart.  He gives me the words and then does what he wants with them.  

“I would ask her how she describes the God she serves, even though she has been through so much joy and pain.”

Wow, this is a really good question and one that I would have never thought to ask.  It really gets to the heart of who I think God is and how I see his fingerprints on my life. You could learn a lot about someone by hearing them answer this question.

To me God is the genius of creation, with limitless wisdom and creative energy that I can’t begin to comprehend. He is the author of all that I am and the giver of all that I have.  He put me right here, on purpose, for a purpose.

To top it all off he loves me so much that he send his most precious son to be reunited with me.  His greatest joy is to see my heart close to him, fully alive.  

Although, how I would describe him doesn’t always line up with my emotions. Sometimes I’m angry and I let bitterness come between us.  But still he’s always my Father, in my mind there is no other option, no where else to place my faith.

Wow that wraps up another great coffee date.  Pencil me in tomorrow and we will chat further.  If you have questions to add to those of the students, toss them in the comments and I’ll do my best.

Antique prayers and picture frames

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This is one of my favorite corners of our home, a little bit gold, a little bit aqua, all thrifted, discovered, or salvaged.

This entire corner cost me less than $10, I love that.

The chocolate brown table was hauled out of the trash near our first married apartment.

The gold mirror tray was a garage sale find

The aqua watering can, I must confess, was an Ikea special that I took the spray paint to.

The cranberries were a Hobby Lobby purchase.

The frame, however, is the best story:  Found at a garage sale on the outskirts of town  for $1. When I started working on it I realized it was lined with old German newspapers that, although illegible to me, predate World War 1.

Oh the stories it could tell, I like to imagine that it came across the Atlantic on a steamer, wrapped in brown paper or in a trunk, the cherished possession of a woman with hopes for new life in America.

I could be all wrong, but I’m glad that it’s come to rest with us. Continue reading →

Our children, Our mirrors

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he got my crooked smile and my heart

Every parent, from the moment their child is born, delights in the unique blend of gifts that they’ve been given through their son or daughter.

We look around at other people’s children, we skim the milestone charts and parenting books, but somewhere in the back of our mind is the belief that our child is too wonderful to be contained by statistics or averages.

They’re ours, they broke the mold and they will make the world a lovelier place just by being alive.

Then one morning we wake up and we look at them not as a unique work of art, but as a mirror.  We look at them and we see ourselves.

We look at them and we see ourselves not just in their eyes, their button noses or their crooked smiles, but we see ourselves in their flaws, their struggles, the things that cause them pain.

They don’t have an easy time reading
They have a wicked bad temper
They’re stubborn and refuse to learn lessons the easy way
They can’t sit still during story time
They don’t seem to fit in at school

In that moment we freak out a little, or a lot.  Our hearts break as we remember our pain and project every ounce of it onto our child’s future. Continue reading →