Janene Frank: Holy Spirit

Thursday, January 15, 2015

#1 of 15 in 2015

As the white space has increased out of sheer desperation for a life well lived, phrases and quotes scream out to me as I stumble upon them in my wandering. This weeks's chapter about Mary's endurance made me reflect on: am I praying about it more than I am talking about it? I love when the Holy Spirit speaks to me. I love when I am still and quiet enough to hear him! This statement alone, gave me pause and I have committed my person to prayer, rather than speaking of the situation he or she is involved in.

In my Love God Greatly, morning email study, led by a dear friend, this sentence screamed at me from my inbox. I had been pursuing satisfaction from the world instead of finding sufficiency in my Savior. How long was that my truth? I'm so thankful to God for seeing the error of my ways, for turning my gaze upon Him instead and His filling me with unspeakable joy to live a well intentioned life. I'm grateful he shifted my focus and redefined my idea of success. Raising kingdom kids could be my greatest achievement ever. This is enough! And it's a reminder I need often because I tend to backslide in my thoughts, that I have to have a job to contribute monetarily to our family.

Ann Voskamp, of a Holy Experience caught me with. . ."And because the way you live your ordinary days is what adds up to your one extraordinary life, " All of these mundane moments counts. Every. Single. One. These moments are intricately woven together to make the fabric of my life. Just as I was knitted together in my mother's womb, and God knew the plans He had for me from the start, every moment matters in the totality of my life. And my one desire is to live it well and to live it for HIm, raising children who will continue the mission.

In other news, I have committed myself to 15 date nights for 2015. Due to babysitting, nights out alone are super hard to come by, but this year the kids are older and we have to do it for us. We need to stay connected. We need to stay focused on the child raising. We need to be in constant prayer about the journey. . .together. So last night, we kicked off our first date with a Mighty Ducks hockey game. It was a shut out, with great seats we were gifted from a friend and we had a nice time together. The drive to and from was filled with conversation and I'm so thankful for my husband who is willing to invest in this marriage as much as I am.

Date #1 of 15 in 2015

Thursday, October 16, 2014

Die a Little

It is crazy how the days rush by and I'm left speechless. . .or with writer's block as to what needs to be said and what needs to be read. Documenting the lives of my littles is a dream come true. Years ago I let go of perfection and became content with the record keeping that worked for me: this blog! Even if it's only for my family's eyes, it is a real life way of record keeping, of documenting the ways my dreams became a reality and how they were a part of that journey. They were the reason my ship shifted to a different course and that has made all the difference.

It's crazy to think of all the conversation and activity that goes into the day. Between homeschooling, cooking, cleaning, and parenting, there's not a whole lot of down time. This week has been no exception. Sometimes at the end of the day I feel like I am crawling into bed desperate for rest. There has been a phrase that just keeps creeping into my mothering moments. Those times, when she asks me to stay and play with her hair, or he asks me to tickle his back, or she wants to fill me in on every single detail of her lunchtime, or he is telling me about the pole change out they completed and the trouble they ran into, or she wants me to play Barbies, or he wants to explain Pokemon to me for the billionth time and I still don't get it. In these moments where I naturally want to rush through to get to the next item on my to do agenda, my conscious has been whispering, "Die a little. . .Die a little to yourself."
At first I was kind of oblivious. I didn't think about what it might mean. . .until it was like a neon sign screaming and flashing on my daughter's face as I looked up from the floor I was mopping only half-heartedly listening to her story. Then it kind of just crushed me. The magnitude of the holy spirit speaking to me and there I was again, missing it. Missing the small moments that matter most; the ones that won't always be in my kitchen spilling out their guts or in their bed asking for more of me. I was rushing through again and missing the lovely life that was begging me to stop and pay attention.

As I allowed the words of this ancient song from my Catholic School days to come back, I was met with the very realistic conclusion (again) that THIS STUFF MATTERS MOST.
Would you die a little?
Would you die a little to yourself-to bring to me a gift you could not buy?
Would you die a little?
Would you die a little bit for me?
And in dying would you rise again to life?

I have searched high and low to find the rest of the lyrics but to no avail. I wish I remember what the whole song said but I guess the chorus is what is most important: obviously. The Holy Spirit was whispering it but now he's flashing it across faces to get my attention. I need to stop. Get down to their level. Watch my tone. Be present. Embrace the gift that is their stories to tell.

Last week was rough. My birthday was probably the only real brightspot and even that was questionable since the day was so busy! I had to do a mammogram at the request of my Dr. She didn't want me to wait until December so I went and I was uneasy. Not anxious. Not scared. Just uneasy. And waiting for the results made me feel the same. I had some crazy thoughts. And then there was the whispering, followed by the flashing sign. And I began to think the message was one I needed to hear (again). Die a little. Every time there was that thing that needed to be done. Die a little bit more.

So this week I've been practicing dying a little.
It is in dying that I will rise again to life: the fullness of life, the richness that is mine for the taking. . .
all I have to do is die a little bit for Him.