Raising Magnolias

And not be burned.

Not even smell like smoke.

And I saw it again this week.

Living in a post-eve world.

We fall short. We fall far. And clinging to my faith I know that it is only by His grace that we are picked back up—pulled back in.

I have fallen short. I have fallen far. Stupid unbelief.

There’s this story with my Grandmother Pearl and I can’t remember if she said it or my sister said it or just how it came to be but it has stuck around and whenever we do something stupid, we call it. We name it.

We say it.

“Dummy. Dummy. Dummy.”

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

And the heartbreaking part of the stupid and the dummy is that we live in community.

We “do” stupid in community.

And it ripples and ripples and ripples.

And we are left to ride the waves.

And just for the record, I’m not really smart enough to know or think of that on my own. I learned that my friend, Jodi.

And my pastor.

Kyle.

And my church.

Grace.

And from my own struggles.

At living in community.

And I saw it again this week.

My friend is broken. My friend is hurting. And I feel this weird sense of failure as if I should’ve known.

No. I know that I should’ve known. When you look back and you connect the dots and you realize—

I was never listening. All along.

Never hearing.

And I should’ve known. My friend is broken.

And it was my friend who helped.

In the breaking.

My friend is hurting.

And it was my friend who helped.

In the hurting.

And I wasn’t listening.

And I was reminded again this week.

I can’t remember who said it.

God’s Grace is enough for whatever realism we are facing today.

We don’t need a Pollyanna-life.

We need a Jesus-life.

We don’t need a fairytale-ending.

We need a Jesus-ending.

And in the end, there will be Jesus and there will be no more suffering and no more broken and no more tears and no.

More.

Stupid.

And I praise God most high, for that promise, because I have suffered.

Been broken.

Counted tears.

And yeah, been incredibly stupid.

My mom and I sat over tea and chocolate and tears this weekend and she asked of my own life; (and I’ll paraphrase)…

“How?”

“Why?”

And I could not answer. Not really.

It’s super hard to connect your own dots. I only know that for years and years and years I lived under the belief that I did not deserve better.

And I say “under” because it was a heavy weight and it was—

Holding.

Me.

Under.

I lived for a time believing that I was being punished and that I deserved less—

Than His best.

But, hello!?!?

Oh. My. Gosh.

How quickly we forget about Jesus.

And the cross.

And God has softened my heart.

Toward myself.

And toward others.

And I know that because of Jesus.

Because of the cross.

I don’t deserve to be second.

And I don’t deserve to be anyone’s secret.

You are a child of the most High God. And you don’t deserve to be anyone’s leftovers.

And you don’t deserve to be anyone’s secret.

He has shown me Grace. The grace that covers the dummy.

The grace that builds up the broken.

The grace that counts and wipes and holds our tears.

The grace.

That is enough.

H.E. Manning wrote (and I have no clue who that is, but his quote made it into a book that I love, and I think it makes me look smart to quote him, ya know, as if I really do know him.)—anyway, he wrote:

“Neither go back in fear and misgiving to the past, nor in anxiety and forecasting to the future; but lie quiet under His hand, having no will but His.”

And there’s that word “under” again.

Yes!

Today!

Because of His grace—

I am able to give thanks to a good God and I choose to neither go back in fear no look forward with anxiety.

I choose to live quietly—

Under His hand.

Having no will but His own.

And I pray that for my friend.

Both of them.

All of them.

I pray that—

For you.