Sufficient Grace Ministries Blog

Four Things

May 7, 2013 by Kelly @ Sufficient Grace 4 Comments

Last night, I came home at about 11pm after a blur of several days of falling short and not measuring up as a wife and mother. The demands of a growing ministry, one that I consider a sacred privilege, often keep me from home for stretches of time. When I am home, it is difficult to ignore, even for a little while, the emails and messages coming from families walking the path of losing a child. My heart longs to walk alongside each one and offer some measure of comfort, just as God so faithfully and abundantly comforts us. He tells us to offer that same comfort to others. I had been at a training all day, and hosted a small support group that evening. When I arrived home, I waded through the dishes, piles of laundry, and middle school boy socks scattered about. My heart weighing heavy with the ache of mommy guilt. Not because of the outward mess, which I find rather endearing, evidence that my house is full of the gift of active boys, living life. But, because of the mess I felt inside.

Sometimes, we mothers juggle. I’ve never been adept at the juggling. I drop the balls. Habitually, in fact. Last night, I missed piano lessons, baseball, and homework as I cried with, prayed for, and listened to mothers missing their babies. I want to be there. I’m called to be there.

And, to be here.

I found it ironic that I was to write a post encouraging mothers today. For, I have never felt less equipped to offer another mother advice or encouragement. Often, those are the times when God chooses to use us. When we are so poured out, it seems there will be nothing worthwhile left to give. Perhaps, there is some redemption in that place of feeling so small and inadequate. Perhaps, we can begin to find some shred of raw truth and sustaining grace in the brokenness and not enough. For, is it not the wondering cry of every mother, every woman? The wrestling with not enough.

We struggle, wanting desperately to measure up to a standard, forgetting that our Father created us, and smiles on us, just as we are. He loves a beautiful, broken mess. He chooses the broken vessel, and delights in the beauty of it. As she lays there, feeling broken and helpless, her pieces scattered about, He steps forward, walking past all the expensive precious vases on the shelf, those pristine and without blemish, and He picks up the broken one. The one scarred and dented, abused and tossed aside by the storms of life.

He says, “I choose her.”

I think sometimes he treasures the broken vessel because more of Him gets poured out through the cracks. The picture of His grace and love oozing through my broken mess, gives new meaning to this place of my not enough. For in my not enough, He answers….plenty. In my weakness, He makes strength.

Tonight, in a conversation with a friend, words of encouragement spilled forth. Wisdom from above.

I said, “There are four things to remember as a mother. You will mess up daily. You will wrestle with your shortcomings and you will need the measure of sufficient grace that God gives you each day. You will need to remember that His mercies are new every morning…and great is His faithfulness. But, there are four things essential to get right.

1. Make sure that you have given your children God’s Word, taught them to cling to Jesus by living your walk with Him, by being real. Make sure they know how to pray and cling to Him. And, pray for them, dear Momma. Faithfully.

2. Love. Love fiercely and freely and with complete abandon. Love your kids with the I Corinthians 13 love. Love them and everyone you come into contact with. And, love their friends.

3. Always, always, say what you mean. Do not say it, if you don’t plan to do it. Tell them the truth. Keep your word, and teach the value of the integrity of meaning what you say. Children are like magnifying glasses for hypocrisy.

4. Grace. Give grace. This world will beat them down and break their spirits, plenty. Your home should be a safe haven from the tumultuous judgment and harsh realities of this fallen world. Give grace to them, and grace to yourselves. When you mess up, numbers 1, 2, and 3, give yourself grace. Let your home be a haven for you, too, dear momma. A place to be accepted as you are and covered in God’s love and sweet abundant grace. At the end of the day, let your bed be free from anxieties, a place for rest as it was intended.

And He said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for My strength is made perfect in weakness.” Therefore most gladly I will rather boast in my infirmities, that the power of Christ may rest upon me. ~ 2 Corinthians 12:9

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Raising Generations Today is an annual conference designed to equip and inspire moms to reach the hearts of their children for the glory of God. Through providing valuable resources, inspirational speakers, practical teaching materials, and the connection of moms in every season of parenting, Raising Generations Today will offer hope to women so that they may embrace and thrive in their roles as moms. I have the privilege of speaking at this amazing event on March 21st & 22nd, 2014 in Corning, New York. If you would would like to enter to win a FREE ticket, use the Rafflecopter below!

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Filed Under: encouraging moms, encouraging women

The Storm Before the Calm

February 17, 2013 by Kelly @ Sufficient Grace 6 Comments

Sufficient Grace Ministries hosted our first big volunteer/informational meeting yesterday morning at SGM headquarters. Prior to the meeting, I went through the usual gamut of spiritual attacks, this time with a specific twist. Usually, I am overwhelmed with anxiety that presents itself in various forms, even affecting bodily functions. I am a whole lotta small, people….a whole lotta small. Sometimes fear grips me in the shower before I have to speak or sing or host an event. The tears mix with the shower droplets, as I cry out to the One who delivers.

Why, why, why did I say yes to this, God. I don’t wanna do it. I don’t wanna do it…more than I ever didn’t want to do anything before. Please help me. I crumble in the face of “not enough” and “what-if”, the accuser standing dark and loud whispering crippling lies in my ear. I will run to the Word for comfort…knowing the only way to fight lies is with the truth. But, oh the thick struggle it is to make my way to the bible. Sometimes I sing praise songs. Sometimes I go out of my ever-lovin’ mind and Mr. Gerken has to speak some reason into my crazy.

God whispers back to me, “Remember when I asked you if you would say yes? You said yes.”

Really, does that count? It was the tiniest yes, years ago. I barely squeaked it out. You said, “I don’t want you to sit it out anymore. I want you to dance. If I ask you to go, will you say yes?” And I choked out a yes. A barely yes. And, I had no idea what you were planning.

And, don’t I always meet you there?

Yes. (whispered small)

I know it. I know the truth. I know He wants me to dance. I know He won’t make me walk into the lion’s den…er…ahem…the stage alone. I know He will meet me there and bring beauty from my mess. I know it. But, in the panic before I get to the place where He swoops in with all-sufficient grace, all mighty and big, I stand quivering and small…wondering.

Are you sure? What if this time He doesn’t come? What if I’m such a mess, He can’t fix it this time? Not really. In truth…I’m too scared to even ask that question. But it’s there, in the recesses of my mind, prompting panic.

Usually, that’s how it goes. But, yesterday was a little different. You see, the grace we get from our loving Father is specifically designed just for us. And, so are the attacks the enemy fashions for us.

The week prior to the meeting, Lynette and I were praying that God would be the one “building the house” of Sufficient Grace Ministries. (Psalm 127) And, we also prayed for unity among those serving.

Now may the God of patience and comfort grant you to be like-minded toward one another, according to Christ Jesus, that you may with one mind and one mouth glorify the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ. ~ Romans 15:5-6

The enemy hates it when you pray scripture. And, I should’ve seen it coming. You know, every time, we do this song and dance. Every time, the enemy attacks before I go out to speak and I cower and cling to the Lord the best I can. He shows Himself mighty and faithful, and afterwards, I stand in awe of His grace, feeling humbled that I would ever doubt His faithfulness. This time, the attack was specific. Divide and conquer….the enemy’s response to our prayer for unity. About 10 people canceled for various reasons at the last minute. There was nothing that could be done in many of the situations. Legitimate issues came up for several individuals that hindered them from coming. A few just didn’t come. It was an important meeting, the first time we were gathering all the volunteer groups at once to answer questions. I started to wonder if anyone was coming. Would I be wasting the volunteer group leaders’ time if no one showed up? I felt the weight settle heavy. Overwhelmed and discouraged.

I vented. Prayed. And, scurried to prepare. We had worked hard to ready our conference room all week. Nancy, Lynette, and I…with some help from Jamie the floor buffer and Tim, the floor fixer. Now, we just needed people to fill our empty room.

And, when I walked into the room to begin the meeting…

Close to 40 beautiful faces with willing hearts staring back at me.

And, He gently whispered….Oh ye of little faith. When will you learn? I will always meet you there.

His answer to my “not enough”.

Plenty.

Sometimes humble pie tastes good, when it’s covered with love and grace.

Then our mouth was filled with laughter,
And our tongue with singing.
Then they said among the nations,
“The Lord has done great things for them.”
The Lord has done great things for us,
And we are glad.

Psalm 126:2-3

Filed Under: anticipate, encouraging women, Sufficient Grace Ministries

Sometimes You’re Just Standing by the Wrestling Mat…

February 10, 2013 by Kelly @ Sufficient Grace 2 Comments

My youngest son took a liking to wrestling the last couple years. We are a family of golfers. We like golf and baseball, you know, sports that don’t involve germ infested mats and head-gear and things called take downs and choke holds. We are a gentle, peace-loving people. But, James wanted to do it. So we supported him. It’s important to help your kids find the place where they can shine and use their abilities…and even learn, grow, and get stretched out of their comfort zones. We entered a world where, let’s just say, it was evident, we weren’t at the country club golf course anymore.

His first match, he quickly found out that his opponents weren’t going to be so gentle and forgiving as his buddies at wrestling practice. Time and time again, he was body slammed back to the mat with a force that seemed to shake the floor. The coach wasn’t there beside the mat to offer words of encouragement, like the coaches from the opposing schools. Not wanting him to be alone, I stood beside the mat…having no idea what to yell, as his face looking up at me in shock and awe, eyes wide, while a strong, sweaty arm encircled his neck. I could only shout, “Keep your head up…get up. Keep fighting.” He got up, only to find himself slammed back down again. And again.

The next match, his confidence was rattled. We stood by the mat, looking into the stony, dark eyes of a kid in a black singlet with a rat-tail haircut. I looked at James and saw sheer panic. He wears his emotions, not just on his sleeve, but on every inch of himself. His face was pale, lips dry, eyes revealing how much he didn’t want to be standing beside that wrestling mat.

He said, “Mom, I think I’m going to throw up.” I was pretty sure I might need to do the same.

Instead, I leaned down to him, and said, “You can’t let him know you’re afraid. You need to be strong. You need to think about how mad you get at your brother sometimes. Get mad if you have to. You can do this. You’re going to be ok. Just fight hard and do your best.”

It wasn’t working. Panic knows no reasoning.

I leaned down, feeling my own anxiety heighten as I pictured the cradle hold rat-tail boy put on the kid he wrestled before James. I leaned down and said, “Remember David and Goliath. Don’t worry about the size of the giant. God is with you, you can do this.”

And, then, seeing his little hands shake, I whispered, “He that is in you is greater than he that is in the world. You can do all things through Jesus Christ who gives you strength.”

He survived the match, and didn’t get pinned or flung like a rag doll. He fought hard…he mustered the strength. Improvement.

But, more importantly, he didn’t run and hide when he wanted to. He stood at the mat, he made his feet walk forward, he stood toe to toe with a scary boy ready to fight until the death…or um…pin. It didn’t matter. The biggest battle wasn’t fought on that mat that day. The biggest battle was fought…and won while standing beside the mat.

Oh how many spiritual connotations can be gleaned from his experience. How familiar the panic that gripped my son appeared to my own anxiety-ridden heart. I stand on stages and have most of my life, to sing and now to tell the story of the most sacred places of my heart. But, before. Before I stand on the stage a war rages…almost every time. I am the little boy, hands shaking, standing beside the wrestling mat, pale-faced and certain that I will puke. Sometimes I even do get sick. It’s a facing the giants moment every time I prepare to step out of my comfort zone and onto a stage or in front of a group.

The panic knows no reasoning.

No positive words of affirmation and encouragement can make me do the thing before me. No reassurances, no matter how true…that “I’ve done this a thousand times and I will be just fine” seem to even permeate the gripping anxiety. I want to throw up. I want to run. I don’t want to do this. At all. Fight or flight. I want to flee. But, like James, I must stand and fight.

How?

The same way we fought the giant beside the wrestling mat….by using the only weapon in the arsenal strong enough to conquer the stronghold of the terror we are feeling in that moment. The weapon that’s sharper than a double-edged sword. God’s Word.

Ephesians 6: 11-13 ~ Put on the whole armor of God, that you may be able to stand against the wiles of the devil. For we do not wrestle against flesh and blood, but against principalities, against powers, against the rulers of the darkness of this age, against spiritual hosts of wickedness in the heavenly places. Therefore take up the whole armor of God, that you may be able to withstand in the evil day, and having done all, to stand.

Sometimes the biggest victory happens in the standing…and the stepping.

2 Corinthians 12:9 ~ And He said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for My strength is made perfect in weakness.” Therefore most gladly I will rather boast in my infirmities, that the power of Christ may rest upon me.

From The Message ~ 2 Corinthians 12:9

Because of the extravagance of those revelations, and so I wouldn’t get a big head, I was given the gift of a handicap to keep me in constant touch with my limitations. Satan’s angel did his best to get me down; what he in fact did was push me to my knees. No danger then of walking around high and mighty! At first I didn’t think of it as a gift, and begged God to remove it. Three times I did that, and then he told me, My

grace is

enough; it’s all you need. My strength comes into its own in your weakness.Once I heard that, I was glad to let it happen. I quit focusing on the handicap and began appreciating the gift. It was a case of Christ’s strength moving in on my weakness. Now I take limitations in stride, and with good cheer, these limitations that cut me down to size—abuse, accidents, opposition, bad breaks. I just let Christ take over! And so the weaker I get, the stronger I become.

Filed Under: encouraging moms, encouraging women, faith

Scars

January 17, 2013 by Kelly @ Sufficient Grace 6 Comments

“God will not look you over for medals, degrees or diplomas but for scars.” ― Elbert Hubbard

Most of the time, I’m too busy to notice them. I get dressed in a frenzy, mind full of the day’s list of “to-dos”, interruptions from husband, kids, inserting their to-dos, schedules…quick kiss, mumbled “I love yous” in the groggy crackled voice still filled with morning, grab my keys, quick prayer on the way to school, and go.

But, every once in awhile, I stop to catch them in the reflection. How quickly I traded youth, without blinking. It had no value then. From here, I would say it was worth the cost. I remember my mother’s body, filled with the scars, stretch marks, a mother’s battle wounds. She wore them proudly. She wore them with a tube top, fishing on Lake Erie. She wore them in a bikini, not even blinking when the high school carry out boys came over to watch her warming in the sun. They told her story, the scars. I noticed them, but didn’t give much credence to their existence. They weren’t pretty, but they were part of her. And, everyone thought she was beautiful. She was. No one seemed to care that she was branded with the scars.

I brush my hand over my stomach, noticing the purple ridges, my own scars, wrapping around the skin of my lower abdomen and spreading to my hips. How quickly my young body stretched to accommodate the life growing inside my womb nineteen years ago. Most of the scars came later, though. Faith and Grace left this body staring back at me with the deepest scars, scars that still sometimes sting to the touch…both the kind you can see, and the kind you can’t. No one could say my girls didn’t leave a mark on this world. They left plenty of marks.

It doesn’t matter how many Zumba classes I attend, how many miles I walk, how many gallons of water I drink, or how many salads I eat, the scars will remain.

So, when Lysa says, we need to learn to say:

I’ve found my beautiful. And I like my beautiful.

I get it. There is beauty…even in the lines of grief on my face. Each one tells the story of a life that mattered, precious, dearly loved, and greatly missed. And, the laugh lines…well, they’re my favorite. The more the merrier, I say. They tell the story of the girl who laughs. And, the tear stains…they tell the story of a girl who loved with abandon and has been moved with compassion. And, the stretch marks…tell the story of five babies born of my womb. And, the freckles tell the story of a girl who splashes freely in the sun and on the golf course and on bike rides with her boys. The gray hairs springing up wildly here and there…the bible calls them my “crown of glory”. (from this post: Finding Our Beautiful)

Perhaps someday I will be free enough to carry my scars with the confidence of my mother before me. Perhaps I will embrace all as beauty, one day. Can I do that? Can I learn to see the gifts in the scars, the grace from a long journey through dark valleys, etched in my skin. The marks that tell a story of deep heart ache, miraculous redemption, and wayward souls who found their way Home at the foot of a cross covered in the blood that saves. The silvery purple shimmer of their indentations peppering my stomach and hips, reminders that babies lived here…those who will grow into men and those who dance in heaven. When the one I love brushes his strong calloused hands across my stomach, he only sees the beauty of the one he loves. I know…his face tells the story. My heavenly Father sees the beauty in the scars. After all, His Son is among those most marred by the sins of the Earth, the very ones He came to save. He is an expert on making beauty from the broken.

Can I look deep enough to see the same beauty in the scars…both the ones on my skin and those on my heart?

Filed Under: beauty from ashes, encouraging one another, encouraging women

Plenty

January 4, 2013 by Kelly @ Sufficient Grace 14 Comments

I stood in the paint aisle of the hardware store two days ago, scanning the prices, kicking myself for not buying enough for the conference room a couple months before when it was on sale…for less than half the price.

I knew what was in the budget….the budget that had been stretched, like the oil in the lamp, so many times in the past few months. Every time I looked, seeing “not enough”, somehow there would be “just enough”, still. A generous heart would donate time, skills, finances. A ridiculous sale on fabric would lead to 70 yards of fleece on the shelves of our storage room and boxes of stuffing, books on the shelves. And, we would fill the boxes, shipping tiny offerings of comfort to empty arms and broken hearts.

“Plenty”, He would answer in that still, small voice of certainty and gentleness. “Plenty”, He answers to my every “not enough”.

So, I negotiated the price with the store clerk, who consulted the owner, who discounted my purchase by $40.

I left, wondering if I bought enough paint.

Yesterday, bones aching from the reaching and stretching, breathing in the fresh coats of paint, I looked at the unopened gallon of paint sitting next to the additional half gallon leftover. The large conference room was covered with two generous coats of paint, using only two-and-a-half gallons of the four we had purchased. Abundance…

“Plenty”, He spoke in the silence of the freshly painted conference room at the SGM building.

I closed my eyes, picturing the boys rolling paint on the walls, and my friend Nancy, still healing from surgery pushing a chair along to lean on as she added paint to our wall, old country hymns crooning from her iPad, her voice and mine lifting quietly to How Great Thou Art, brushes swishing in rhythm. My little Lynette, smoothing on the trim, noticing how far the paint stretched…noticing His plenty, walking in for round two, that evening, with her grown-up boys to finish the job, just when I thought I would be painting the rest alone.

“Plenty”, He whispered. I can see His face spread into a smile, eyes sparkling with delight, as He shows me. Again and again.

I brushed my hand over the full paint can. Knowing it was so much more than leftover paint.

As we ate lunch, I marveled at His love for the broken people. My son, and his friend (another son in my heart) spending the day, covering the walls of a place meant to minister to brokenness with beauty. Painting over the dirt with clean…the old with new. Only hearts tender from the breaking can listen, with gentleness, to mothers remembering, while eating lunch and painting walls. Strong arms, soft hearts. Hearts that have known loss. They gather here, the people, with the broken pieces. I smiled, thinking of the gifts they have at the tender age of eighteen…gifts many never know. The full that comes from emptying.

“See”, He says, smile widening, eyes gleaming…”Plenty”.

Even still, as I schedule a time to meet with the grant committee review board, I feel the tugging of “not enough”, my inadequacies screaming small in the face of His big.

He smiles again, reminding me of His faithfulness. “Haven’t I always given plenty? I will cover your not enoughs with my grace. All of them. I will go before You, speak through you.”

My phone blinked blue. I wiped the paint off my hands and read a message from one of my top 3 favorite authors of all time, a woman God has used to speak grace into so many of my not enoughs, teaching me to count the gifts and see so much that I had missed…so much full in the emptying. I typed hastily in reply, blessed that Ann Voskamp knew my name.

Days before, I left a comment to enter a contest on her blog, hoping to win an amazing camera to use for SGM’s perinatal hospice. We are planning to add photography services for the local families we serve, in addition to the support and materials we currently offer…capturing precious moments with babies whose lives are brief.

I submitted my entry later than intended, noticing my comment was number 400-something in the midst of a mounting list. I shared my heart in the comments and offered a whispered thought to my Father, the One with the smiling eyes. Then, the next day I bought the paint and went back to work.

Until the light flashed blue.

And, later green…with a touching email from Ann, fellow lover of grace…telling me I had been randomly (although we know that nothing is random with our God!) chosen from a list of I don’t know how many. Last check, there were over a thousand comments on her blog post. Laughter and overwhelmed sobs emerged from my depths as I shared the news with my youngest and looked up to praise God for the plenty. Grace, sweet grace, always filling my empty, covering “not enough” with plenty. Abundance. Overflowing beauty I don’t deserve…sweet mercy. Humbling…on my face grateful.

Sufficient Grace Ministries will now have access to a Nikon D90 {& 18-105 mm f/3.5-5.6G Zoom Lens to photograph tiny lives and capture grace.

“Anticipate”, He whispers, smiling still. “Anticipate my faithfulness, daughter, to do more than you could ask or imagine.”

In the morning O Lord, You hear my voice; in the morning I lay my requests before You and wait in expectation. ~ Psalm 5:3

Filed Under: encouraging women, grace, gratefulness

Anticipate

December 30, 2012 by Kelly @ Sufficient Grace 4 Comments

Anticipate

- to look forward to as certain: expect

A couple of years ago, I began embracing the tradition of choosing a word for the year. Rather, I would ask God to send me a word. A word to focus on in the coming year. A word He could use to teach me some hidden truth, to reveal some precious treasure…another piece of Who He is. More evidence of my desperate need for Him. In 2011, He whispered to my heart…instructing me to cling. It was a very good word for that year, as we spent most of it waiting without concrete answers as He built faith in us and prepared the way for the next steps in our journey. Last year, He reminded of His promise to restore. Last year, He sent abundant answers to years of prayers, restoring so many broken places longing for healing in our hearts. We are still reeling and in awe of the restoration He has sent in our family, our work lives, so many things. Eternal things, earthly things, relationships. This year, He is impressing on my heart the word anticipate. I have been juggling anticipate and trust back and forth, as they seem to go hand in hand. And, both are relevant lessons for me. Our lives have become a walk of blind faith and trusting in Him since I left my full-time job to serve in ministry at SGM. He has proven faithful each time our needs weigh heavy on the heart, even when doubt creeps in and my eyes get to looking at what lays before me, rather than trusting in what I know of His faithfulness.

So, He wants me to trust Him.

But, not just an idle trust. I sense He wants something deeper. There is a place we can walk where do not merely go, as He drags us reluctantly along. Not a tentative trusting. A bold embracing of what lies before us unseen. Pastor James spoke this morning of the fearfulness we often experience when our great and majestic God, the same God who appeared to Moses on the Mount and Peter in Luke 9…the powerful God in a dark cloud, with the booming voice. The One saying to trust what He says and follow where He leads…no matter where that path takes us. Trust is quite a thing for those of us who know that trusting doesn’t always mean we are safe…from pain or loss, or stripping devastation. Those of us who know that people we love sometimes walk away or die horrible deaths. Those of us who have watched tiny caskets lowered into the cold earth. Trust doesn’t come easy for hearts that have been so broken.

But, then again. Those of us who have been so broken, and have seen His gentle restoration…those of us, dwelling for a season in hopelessness… for days, weeks, months, or years in the pits of despair, hair hanging in our eyes, pale, undernourished spirits, eyes sunk in from the grief and faces permanently stained with the salty tears, beaten by life. Some grief we choose for ourselves with our wayward walk. Some comes upon us simply because of the fallen world in which we live. And, yet…even while we willingly wallowed in the pits of despair and hopelessness, He stood patiently outside the pit, waiting with a hand strong enough to lift us out of the mire. Again. And again. No matter how many times we found ourselves there. When we see how He lovingly restores…making beauty from ashes. So much beauty from our ugly. When we watch Him say, “Trust Me” to provide what we need…and He does it again and again…making something appear from nothing. Moving generous hearts to give. Making a little last like the oil that never ran out, but kept burning with the light. Well, then…it isn’t so hard to trust.

Deuteronony 1:29-33 (from The Message)
I tried to relieve your fears: “Don’t be terrified of them. GOD, your God, is leading the way; he’s fighting for you. You saw with your own eyes what he did for you in Egypt; you saw what he did in the wilderness, how GOD, your God, carried you as a father carries his child, carried you the whole way until you arrived here. But now that you’re here, you won’t trust GOD, your God—this same GOD who goes ahead of you in your travels to scout out a place to pitch camp, a fire by night and a cloud by day to show you the way to go.”

Or maybe it is…for weak sheep. No different am I than the Israelites in the wilderness, being led by the Lord…a cloud by day and a pillar of fire by night, being fed with manna from heaven. And, yet, when I see the needs growing and the provisions dwindling, I doubt for a moment…as if He will not be faithful this time…as He has been so many times before. He seems to have to show me again and again. The same lesson. He is Who He says He is and He is faithful to provide. Faithful to complete the good work He began in us. Faithful to lead us on the path He chooses.

The verses below encompass His message, whispered to my heart the last several years. The words in parentheses are mine.

Psalm 91:14-16 (from The Message)
“If you’ll hold on to me for dear life,” (cling) says GOD, “I’ll get you out of any trouble. I’ll give you the best of care if you’ll only get to know and trust me. Call me and I’ll answer, be at your side in bad times; I’ll rescue you, then throw you a party (restore). I’ll give you a long life, give you a long drink of salvation!”(anticipate)

Ephesians 2:7-10 (from The Message)
Now God has us where he wants us, with all the time in this world and the next to shower grace and kindness upon us in Christ Jesus. Saving is all his idea, and all his work. All we do is trust him enough to let him do it. It’s God’s gift from start to finish! We don’t play the major role. If we did, we’d probably go around bragging that we’d done the whole thing! No, we neither make nor save ourselves. God does both the making and saving. He creates each of us by Christ Jesus to join him in the work he does, the good work he has gotten ready for us to do, work we had better be doing.

We have to get out of the way, and trust God enough to let Him do it! He is able…and it’s a gift to dwell safely in the arms of the One willing and able to carry us. Which brings us to anticipate. I believe that God wants more than the ginger steps of faith I’ve taken. He’ll allow ginger steps and He still calls that faith. But, He wants us to boldly go…trusting and expecting the good plans He has for us. Like an adventure. A child-like expectation. The kind of anticipation we see in a child at Christmas, excitedly awaiting the good gifts we will receive. Not fearful of the “what-ifs” or held back with “if onlys”.

Will life be perfect on this earth? No, of course not. I’m not saying that everything we face is as easy as Christmas morning. There are times when we stand in the valley of the shadow of death, and little seems like a light, happy adventure. But, we can anticipate, even in the darkest valley. I remember standing beside my mother’s ailing body as she gasped for her last ragged breaths in the waning weeks of her life. Someone asked me then, if I was afraid, because death was so close to where we stood, and the next world…eternity…seemed almost a tangible, thick presence in the room.

Without thinking, I responded, “No. I wasn’t afraid. I was excited for her. Prayerful that she would be with Jesus soon. And, I looked forward to feeling the presence of Jesus so near, like I did when He came to take my Thomas home.”

It wasn’t so easy and tied up in a neat bow. There were dark parts, lonely parts, parts when her suffering was so intense I wondered if He would ever come. And, I never did feel Him the way I felt Him with Thomas. Sometimes trusting means “believing without seeing…or feeling it”. But, still…even in the darkness, we can anticipate because of the promise in the scripture below. Even if we don’t see the answers on this earth, we can anticipate good gifts in eternity.

Isaiah 65:17-25
[ New Heavens and a New Earth ] “Pay close attention now: I’m creating new heavens and a new earth. All the earlier troubles, chaos, and pain are things of the past, to be forgotten. Look ahead with joy. Anticipate what I’m creating: I’ll create Jerusalem as sheer joy, create my people as pure delight. I’ll take joy in Jerusalem, take delight in my people: No more sounds of weeping in the city, no cries of anguish; No more babies dying in the cradle, or old people who don’t enjoy a full lifetime; One-hundredth birthdays will be considered normal— anything less will seem like a cheat. They’ll build houses and move in. They’ll plant fields and eat what they grow. No more building a house that some outsider takes over, No more planting fields that some enemy confiscates, For my people will be as long-lived as trees, my chosen ones will have satisfaction in their work. They won’t work and have nothing come of it, they won’t have children snatched out from under them. For they themselves are plantings blessed by GOD, with their children and grandchildren likewise GOD-blessed. Before they call out, I’ll answer. Before they’ve finished speaking, I’ll have heard. Wolf and lamb will graze the same meadow, lion and ox eat straw from the same trough, but snakes—they’ll get a diet of dirt! Neither animal nor human will hurt or kill anywhere on my Holy Mountain,” says GOD.

So, here’s to looking forward with certainty to His promises and provision for our family and Sufficient Grace Ministries in 2013. Anticipating more of Him…more grace, more love, more truth, more adventure, more growth, more faith, more comfort, more hope… anticipating.

Has He impressed a word on your heart for the coming year?

Filed Under: anticipate, encouraging one another, encouraging women, faith, trusting God

Ballet Slippers and Silver Bells

December 22, 2012 by Kelly @ Sufficient Grace 3 Comments

My mind has been thick with nostalgia and my heart heavy with the missing as Christmas fills our senses. Flashes of yesteryear…moments captured in time like a snapshot stopping my hurried steps.

I am seven, standing proudly in the black leotard and pink tights my mother worked three jobs to buy, my long, wavy brown hair pulled into a bun. Silver Bells fills the studio with a melody that makes me close my eyes and really believe it’s Christmas time in the city . I practice my plies as little girls with more grace than I…girls who don’t live in the trailer park…snicker in a group. I look at my mother, standing a little straighter , my tiny pink ballet slippers gliding across the worn wood floors. Ballet was never my thing, but that year, with snow falling in the background, Silver bells filling the air…that year was magic.

Another flash…another year, 1980-something…another moment captured in time. My mother, wearing the long nightgown with the zipper our neighbors gave to her one Christmas morning. They started the tradition of coming over Christmas morning shortly after we moved to the first house my mother owned. The flashes run together in a blur of memories. I can still taste the orange and bag of candy consumed on many a Christmas Eve at the prettiest church in town,laughing with Billy…his mouth full of chocolate. My grandpa laughing an identical laugh in unison with mom , his arm draped around her, eyes wrinkled with joy as he gives her shoulder a gentle squeeze one Christmas Eve.

The house lit up like Vegas…different themed trees in every room. Her tree. Her home made ornaments documenting the various themes of each year’s home made Christmas…the macaroni angel, the year of crochet, cross stitch, the year of wooden peg angels, the year we filled my cart with mauve Victorian decor and bought the Mariah Carey Christmas CD at Hills.

Shopping with my mother so many Christmases of my grown up life. Oh how she loved to buy presents for her people. Flash…mom pushing me in a wheel chair so I could shop while on bed rest for Faith and Grace. Flash…the year she bought me a brand new tree as we shopped on a day when we were angry with our husbands. She always spent more on days we weren’t happy with our husbands.

Laughing in her kitchen…

Baking with Nicki and her people…making buckeyes for the first time…marveling at the gathering of women. Flash…my own Gerken baking day…with Sarah and a young Timothy and even younger James, covered in flour. This year’s Gerken baking day left my kitchen filled with big kids who are not mine by blood, but certainly mine in my heart.

Cousins filling my grandmother’s house, families young and full of promise…moms wearing 80s attire…big bows around their necks with big hair to match and hips curvy from the birthing. The smell of grandma’s homemade noodles filling the kitchen. Seventies carpet. Gathering around the fireplace, the noise of family…filled with love and security. Life ahead.

Santa leaving his big bag of toys on the porch at my other grandma’s house. Sitting on my father’s lap…I’m seven again…wearing my new sweater vest, my hair carefully curled by my mother earlier in the day.

Timothy’s first Christmas. His eyes heavy with sleep, wearing his second hand puppy dog pajamas, as I woke him up in the wee hours of the morning…too excited to wait any longer. Tim yawning in the background…wrapped in a red and black blanket……starting our own traditions in the tiny one bedroom apartment we once called home.

Laughing together as I helped decorate her tree on our last Christmas with her. I’m glad I didn’t know about the missing that waited for us…the ache a momma feels for her baby, I knew. But the ache a daughter feels for her mother still lay ahead as we added the decorations to her tree in between giggles.

I can’t go back and conjure each moment into reality…but each memory is part of me, part of today…woven into the tapestry of this life. So, I will fill my tiny home with as many people I love and as much laughter as we can muster, for as many years as the Lord allows.

Because laughing with people I love…this tiny house full…well…that’s my favorite.

May you find joy and peace in this Christmas season as we celebrate the amazing gift…that Jesus came for us. May there be quiet moments of reflection, warm memories to fill your heart, and laughter, if you can muster it…laughing with people you love, imperfect and broken though we may be. There is hope.

For on this day, in the city of David, a Savior was born. You will find Him wrapped in swaddling clothes and laying in a manger…

P.S. So desperate was I to release the words in the wee hours of this morning, this post was typed entirely on my phone. Impressive…or sad…whichever. But, if you’re a writer, you get it! Merry Christmas!

Filed Under: Christmas, encouraging women, memories, mom, mother

Keep Going

October 21, 2012 by Kelly @ Sufficient Grace 5 Comments

I know that I’m way behind posting about some recent happenings…

The Grace for the Journey Conference

The October 15th Lantern Release

And, updates on the new SGM building space which has left me a bit delirious from painting all week!

It’s coming.

But, tonight, I have to share about something else. I had the honor, today, of cheering on behalf of Tug Robison, son of my dear friend Ginny at the Columbus Marathon. He was honored by Nationwide Hospital, with the duty of cheering for the runners on Mile 23 of the 26 mile race. You may remember reading about Tug, and his miracle last year.

It was such an honor to stand by him and his wonderful family, shouting words of encouragement to each runner. Tears filled my eyes more than once as I heard Tug say, “Finish strong…you’re almost there. You can do it.” I imagined his parents saying the same words to him as he re-learned how to walk, talk, write, ride his bike, run, play sports after the accident, and during his recovery from time spent in a coma.

“Keep going! You’re almost there. You can do this!” I shouted the words over and over again, until my voice was hoarse, shaking my cowbell and hand clappers, as each runner passed. I looked over at Ginny, fist pumping, jumping up and down, giving each runner a “Heck yeah!” from her gut. I nodded and smiled.

There were runners cramped and dragging their legs, bent sideways from the pain, arms frozen in position, tears streaming down their faces. Runners who looked like they may have been in the midst of chemo treatments. Runners with names on their backs and faces that told the story of one who knows about “The Missing”…like the one whose shirt simply said, “For my Beth”. Runners carrying an extra weight for 26 miles in honor of fallen veterans, runners who, even in their weariness, sweat dripping, bodies aching, lit up when they saw us cheering and clapped their own hands for Tug Robsion… survivor, fighter, hero.

Keep going. The words, I said over and over with all my heart today keep rolling in my mind, as I think of grief-stricken mothers carrying the weight of sorrow, the ache of empty arms, women who are battle weary just from the struggles of this life. The words also bring to mind this spiritual race we’re running, and how much we need someone to cheer us on when we’re weary.

Reminds me of this verse in Hebrews 12: 1-2

Therefore we also, since we are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses, let us lay aside every weight, and the sin which so easily ensnares us, and let us run with endurance the race that is set before us, looking unto Jesus, the author and finisher of our faith, who for the joy that was set before Him endured the cross, despising the shame, and has sat down at the right hand of the throne of God.

I think of those who have gone before us, spurring us on from heaven when I read this verse. And, I also think of how much we need one another to encourage us to keep going…to say we’re doing great…to breathe words of hope into our weary, beauty into our ugly, and healing into our broken. God never meant for us to do it alone. And, He wants us to finish strong, looking to Him as our example.

Today, was beautiful…just like this man who stopped to ask Ginny to take his picture along the way.

You know I just love how God sends those unexpected gifts our way. Like the conversation I had with this beautiful NICU nurse from Nationwide, about The Missing…you know what I’m talking about…if you’re missing someone.

The motto for Tug’s Miracle Mile was “Yes You Can”! And, it’s true. Not only for the runners of the Columbus Marathon, but for the runners of the race of life. Yes, you can finish strong, as you look to the author and finisher of your faith. Yes, you can do all things through Jesus Christ who gives you strength. Yes you can keep going, because you are not alone, dear sister (or brother).

It was such a blessing to be a vessel of encouragement today. Such a simple, tiny offering. But, it meant something. And, it makes me think that such a small thing as encouraging another human being to keep going when they want to give up is a pretty easy thing we can all do to impact someone else’s life. I’m praying God will give me opportunities to do it more often. And, that I’ll be listening and looking when He does.

Thank you, Tug…and my Ginny for letting me stand with you today , to get to feel the overflowing of blessing from your miracle. Our Father sure is good to us.

Filed Under: beauty from ashes, encouraging moms, encouraging one another, encouraging women, pressing on

The Power of Words

August 27, 2012 by Kelly @ Sufficient Grace 4 Comments

I’ve been pondering the power of words, lately. The way they can cut and wound, rolling over in our minds, whispering darts of accusation and condemnation, leaving our hearts shattered. They can be crippling or empowering. Encouraging or heart-breaking.

The book of James has quite a bit to say about the power of words and the importance of taming our tongues.

For we all stumble in many things. If anyone does not stumble in word, he is a perfect man, able also to bridle the whole body. Indeed, we put bits in horses’ mouths that they may obey us, and we turn their whole body. Look also at ships: although they are so large and are driven by fierce winds, they are turned by a very small rudder wherever the pilot desires. Even so the tongue is a little member and boasts great things. ~ James 3:2-5

For every kind of beast and bird, of reptile and creature of the sea, is tamed and has been tamed by mankind. But no man can tame the tongue. It is an unruly evil, full of deadly poison. With it we bless our God and Father, and with it we curse men, who have been made in the similitude of God. Out of the same mouth proceed blessing and cursing. My brethren, these things ought not to be so.

~James 3:7-10

About eight years ago, I attended a conference for children, called Junior Jam, with my oldest son, who was maybe in 4th grade or so. In one session the facilitators built a big tower using many large boxes. It took many boxes to painstakingly build the tower until it reached the ceiling, but it took only one box strategically thrown, to knock it all down. Words are the same. It takes many words filled with grace and truth to build up another, but only one cutting word to devastate and break someone into pieces. I have tried to remember that truth, as a mother and teacher. Of course, I’ve had my moments when my speech was less than grace-filled. I’ve said the words that cut in moments of brash reaction. But, most of the time, I try to remember that tower, and the great effort to build it up, along with the destruction so easily brought with one blow.

In this ministry, we must consider often the power of words…to lift up or to wound. Many people struggle to find the right words when someone dies. And, the death of a baby seems to bring some of the worst of the inappropriate and often hurtful responses from people who mean no harm, but simply do not understand. I have heard those words over the years, spoken to me and to others. It is especially difficult to respond in grace when our hearts are so vulnerable.

This quote sums up well what I believe almost every grieving person wishes those around her knew:

“Honestly, when I’m hurting, I’d rather have a friend who stands and weeps with me or wonders with me than one who rattles off his or her thin take on the universe.” ~ Patsy Clairmont (Stained Glass Hearts)

A thousand times, YES, Patsy Clairmont. That’s exactly what we need when we’re hurting. Someone to come alongside us, to weep with us, and to walk with us a bit on this path. That is what we hope to do for those who come to us in need. Please let us know if we can walk with you a bit…whatever you are facing. We are here to pray with you…and offer a listening ear.

My prayer for all of us called to minister to one another in difficult times:

Let no corrupt word proceed out of your mouth, but what is good for necessary edification, that it may impart grace to the hearers.

~Ephesians 4:29

Let your speech always be with grace, seasoned with salt, that you may know how to answer each one. ~ Colossians 4:6

Filed Under: encouraging one another, encouraging women, grace, grief, walking with you

A Girl Like Me Doesn’t Deserve Grace Like This

August 24, 2012 by Kelly @ Sufficient Grace 5 Comments

When I was about nine or ten years old, we moved to Florida from Ohio. I remember the day my brothers’ father showed my mother the house he purchased for us to live in. It had white brick, with intercoms where we could speak to each other from room to room. I thought that was something special! The carpet was blue, with an open floor plan. Each bedroom had sliding glass doors that opened on to a patio that surrounded an in-ground pool.

We had never lived in a place like this. We lived in a little trailer until I was in third grade, when we moved to a rental house. But, nothing like the house in Florida. Remember my last post…the one where I said I can’t remember seeing my mother cry? Well, I was mistaken…because the day we walked through the white brick house with blue carpet, she stood in the middle of the expansive family room and cried.

“What’s wrong?” her husband asked.

“It’s so beautiful…I don’t deserve a house like this,” her usually strong and certain voice quivered.

In the factory she was strong and certain. In our old kitchen, she knew what to expect. She knew her place in the world, there. But, here, in this fancy house by the lake. This was unknown territory. Here, she felt like less…not enough. Unworthiness bubbled up from the deep hidden places. She wondered how a girl like her could ever fit in a place like that.

She never did see how amazing she was. She thought her mistakes defined her…that she deserved less because of every wrong choice that brought her to this place. My strong, brave mother held her head low that day in the house with the intercoms. She just couldn’t believe something so beautiful was for her. She reacted the same way when she came face to face with Jesus, but that’s another story.

Today, I began my own new journey, eyes filled with tears of joy and awestruck gratefulness, thinking a girl like me doesn’t deserve grace like this…wondering how it is I came to be here, sitting in my patio sanctuary, being filled with encouragement from God’s Word as the birds surround me with their songs of praise. For the first time in many years, I’m not spending my days at work and my nights juggling family and ministry. I pray on my patio and feel His grace wash over me in the morning. I have time to soak in every nuance of beauty from His creation. I notice the butterflies, the crickets’ song, the locusts reminding me that my God is the One who will restore the years. I count the gifts in my journal and tears mix with the overwhelming gratitude, the grace that shakes me and humbles me…and fills me to the brim. I prayed for years that I would be free to serve Him this way. Free to give out of abundance instead of stretched beyond what my senses could accomplish. I prayed that Tim would be free to use his gifts and abilities to provide for our family, that I would be able to spend the time needed to run SGM effectively.

He is and I am…free.

Delivered.

His.

Much like my mother in the midst of the white-brick house, I stood today in the middle of my patio, in awe, that a girl like me gets grace like this. I know every wrong choice I’ve made, every dirty ugly sin. I don’t deserve grace like this. Several times a day, I find myself saying aloud, “I cannot believe this is my life”.

I am His. My heart sings….I am His.

I don’t get it…this scandalous grace that would make Him want a girl like me…this relentless love that pursues my damaged heart. But, that’s the whole point. That’s what makes it grace….the fact that I don’t deserve it. I’ve done nothing to earn His favor…nothing to deserve such love. Yet, He pursues…longing to bless even more. Longing to answer the cries of my heart. Because I am worthy? No, far from it. My best attempt at righteousness is a pile of filthy rags….but He is worthy. My Savior…the One who washed me clean with His blood. The One who tenderly meets me on the patio and lifts my head as it hangs in humility, wipes the tears dripping from my eyes, the ones that tell the story of the girl who doesn’t deserve to be in this patio sanctuary…and He calls me His.

This weekend, I took the stage with these boys at our local Corn City Festival…boys I’ve known most of my life. To sing about being His.

My father and his wife surprised me by swooping in from states away to hear our band…for the first time.

Amazing grace…raining down on me. I breathed deeply, drinking in grace.

Hearts bowed in worship…we are His.

And, how does our beloved respond, to this most humble offering?

He quiets us with His love…and rejoices over us…with singing.

“The Lord your God in your midst,
The Mighty One, will save;
He will rejoice over you with gladness,
He will quiet you with His love,
He will rejoice over you with singing.”

~Zephaniah 3:17

He rejoices over us…with singing.

Ridiculous, scandalous grace.

Filed Under: encouraging women, grace, mom, Uncategorized