Growing Down.

My friend, Kara, once used this phrase and I've thought about it a lot the last year. Our lives reverberate against each other, as we both are single women, responsible adults, with vision and love for women's ministry, and can easier connect with older women that those our own age.

She was talking about how she connects deeply with the women of our church who are older, so she's always involved with them, and their kids, and the women's ministry and has made a life of such. But how now, in her mid-thirties, she feels pressure to 'grow down' since she doesn't fit in the married life and family groups, and is in this void of belonging to both and neither -- not the silliness and party-life of singles, nor the settled and planned life of family.

This week, my friend Zac, called me a "old soul," somewhat endeared and somewhat confused, by who I am and how I live. And, I remember a conversation with my mom one day, discussing my role on the women's ministry team at my church in Grand Rapids, and how I loved it and felt more connected to those 5 women than almost anyone my own age. I remember exactly where she was standing when she said, "That doesn't surprise me at all." And how that flowed into a conversation about who I am, what I love to do, and how that meshes with my life.

In the midst of this, I'm left wondering and longing, what does it mean for me to life in this land-between being the person I am, but the life stage struggle to belong in?

Perhaps its all fear. That if I stop trying to be young and fun and single, then I'll never meet someone who wills forward for the same things that I do. Or, that I'll be home and alone and lonely. Perhaps it's that I still do have that adventure lets-go-hike-or-fly spirit that gets squashed amidst stability. Or perhaps it's just a longing for heaven, for home, for that idea of a belonging. And that I will never feel a sense of 'whole' until that final day has come.

As I hold these thoughts, weary from desperately trying to 'grow down,' and wishing and wanting more, just to be the holistic woman that God has made and called me to be, I am still left wondering and pondering: what does it mean to live this life, not growing down, but growing full?

Provided: Snow Days.

To mark the words from my friend Amy's text:

"Christina, could these snow days have come at a better time??? I think not! God knows our needs before we ask him."

I couldn't leave this week, without marking God in it. It's easy to pray or complain or be anxious or wonder, and then with the situation is over, to move on, and not note His working hand. But this week, I stop and pause. Because I have to. Because it's a marker on my journey. Because he granted me something special -- snow days.

You see, last week was rough. Each morning, my chest was tight and I prayed myself into the classroom. Once the kids arrived, I clicked into motion, but the anxiousness was frustrating. But this week, we had four snow days. Yes, read that right: four. So each day, I worked ahead, creating lesson plans, worksheets, unit outlines, etc. And then had some fun - sledding, Starbucks, dinner with friends. Yet, this time enabled me to get caught up and ready for second semester so the weight of teaching doesn't feel quiet so suffocating.

I didn't ask for the snow days. I didn't even give thought or hope to them when people mentioned the weather. But God knew what I needed. And he provided. Through snow days.

Respected At The City Gate.

I've been digging through Ruth. And Proverbs 31. And Friendships. And Life. And this morning, this passage got me all over again. What does it mean for a man to be "respected at the city gate?" (Prov 31:10)

As a single Christian woman, my heart is to love and marry and cherish the man that chooses God above all else, lives a life that calls and demands honor, and carries himself with intention and dignity. He is joyful and encouraging, rejoicing in good things, honoring and acknowledging the hard things...

Sometimes I get so caught up in it all, that I can't really figure out what is worth waiting for and what isn't. And if I should just pick one of the men I know, guy friends, and see where it leads...

But this passage entitles that I pause and wait. Because to be respected at the city gate, means the man has earned his role, his intentionality, his honor. It means in the light of people - guys, work, women - he is respected. It means he treats people with dignity. He protects hearts and calls them forward at the same time. He serves, he cherishes, he nudges. He takes leadership roles when necessary, and encourages the leadership of others when necessary too. He filters his thoughts, heart, and life (media, time, talents, etc) through the lens of Christ. He honors his commitments and works hard and lives in community.

It doesn't mean that he is stagnant, getting by. Sometimes I try to get myself to settle for guys like this. Who, simply... exist. Because it's easier, because their stable. But my heart just can't get me to settle there. My term is usually "adventure" but what it really is, from a godly standpoint, is the lust and longing for a full life. A life that lusts after what God is calling him forward to, and what challenges and changes he is continually making to press on towards that. To earn respect and grasp fullness. To not be stagnant amidst the glory of God.

So it all narrows down to this: if I am to be a Proverbs 31 woman, a wife of noble character, then I should filter men through this one phrase: Is he respected at the city gate? [or aiming to be?]

~~~

SideNote: For all who question my waiting and wishing, and want to repeat for the millionth time, that no one is perfect and I have too high of expectations... I completely disagree. And I know men who prove it -- Ry, Michael, Tom... husbands of dear friends of mine... men who are respected at the city gate.

Love In Their Hands.

My kitchen smells like mom's kitchen. The oven creaks to open and the smell of blueberry coffee cake wafts in the air like a homecoming scent. I love mom's cooking. Fresh. Cozy. Warm. Loved. Made with calm, knowing hands. Astride conversation. Robed with aprons and barstools.

Last week, at my door stood Amy and her daughter Elise, holding love in their hands. It was an anxious, stressful, out-of-your-mind week, and they came over with intentionality.

Smokielink casserole and blueberry bread. From my mom's cookbook. I teared up. It was my favorite dish of mom's. And Amy knew it. Mom always made with blueberry muffins, my other favorite. Amy didn't know that, but God did. I teared up.

The smell, the thought, the gift, the taste... all of it, was love in their hands.

My Favorite Things.

Girls in white dresses with blue satin sashes
Snowflakes that stay on my nose and eyelashes
Silver white winters that melt into springs
These are a few of my favorite things

~ My Favorite Things

As this song trickles through me, a few other things add their lyrics. My side-bar already as a list of my favorite things... but a few more come to mind:

1. Bath and Body Works. Scents. Oh my word, that place is like euphoria to me, like a kid in a candy store... so many choices, so many scents, so much goodness in one colorful place!

2. Sunday Morning Church. I love going to church. I love going to worship. Seriously, it definitely hits the line of "simple pleasures."

3. Narratives of Missionaries. I love reading these books. They are the biggest encouragement to faith, and usually captivating to read.

4. Hazelnut lattes. Enough said.

5. Beautiful fabrics. I love touching well-made pants or dresses or sweaters. Something about the quality of fabric feels personal, loved, worth touching into.

6. Friends who text on a whim just to say they're thinking of me. Those always make smile.

7. Seriously incredible music. My new favs are "Dancing in the Minefields" by David Peterson and "God Is With Us" by multiple artists... but I'm enthralled with excellent music, whether Sugarland or Wailing Jennys or Lady Antebellem or Rhianna or the constant Sara Groves. Good music makes and changes my life.

8. Bakeries. There's one near my house that no one knows of, but I love it. Java Brewery, the baked pies and muffins and scones are so beautiful that you can't help but walk by and stare and wish and want and linger.

9.

Catching Beautiful

It's snowing outside. With a fluffy 4-5 inches of accumulation. The earth quiets and soften with it. And I find myself... catching beautiful... with friends, laughing down mini-slopes at the park on neon green saucers. Four adult women, stacked now four high, on mini sleds, on a not-so-steep hill. The laughter of the scene, and the joy of being a child in the snow is... catching beautiful.

I also find myself, now Starbucked, grill-cheesed, showered, and resting, catching beautiful in my home and heart. Lingering with good scents, my journal, laptop, and a good book on the side of me. Thinking through life and friendships, and capturing beautiful in them. Moments that fall like snow in their goodness.

On these days, joyous and quiet the same, I love catching beautiful, and holding it, like snowflakes landing softly on lashes.

Looking Back.

My dear friend Lynda called tonight to ask/hear about how Christmas went, and I realized in my reflection to her... that it was a process, a stone piece in the restoration.

I didn't want to be there. Everyday, I just craved to be back home, in Carolina. I missed just the feeling of 'home' and place. But at the same time, God provided avenues to goodness in Grand Rapids over Christmas that have CHANGED my perspective on the space/place as a whole.

I used to look at it with fear and condemnation. With big "X" marks all over it, and loathsome grumblings, flaring anger, hurt, and disappointment.

But the Lord is changing the "attitude of my mind." I went with a guarded heart, and kept it that way. I went with little expectation from bloodlines, and kept it that way. But because of that, I didn't leave disappointed, or with lingering hurts from anything "bad." No terrible conversations, no nightmares of situations. Just a lot of blockades a on my heart. But what that means, is that my memories of Grand Rapids this time... are pure.

So instead I remember my nephew, that we would both go to sleep at 9pm, and I would come awake with his whispered "Aunt Nina, can we get up and play?" and our sleepover would roll into the day. And for family, I remember go-karts and laughter (guarded and distracted, but laughter!) from Craigs Cruisers for Christmas.

So I'm able instead of seeing the hurt, anger, disappointment, and preliminary events, to see the traces of good and reconciliation. I see Lynda at the airport, and coffee on her couch. A fire ablaze at Roses with Kate, snacks with my Grandma over hot cocoa, grins while sitting squished between Laura & Missy at Maries, and lingering over lunch and life with Bekah.

My deepest self may have been guarded and just trying to survive, to get-through... but it did. And because of that, there lingers the hope... of restoration.