Complementary Strengths

As I write this, the ACFW conference is only a few days away, and Laura is preparing pitches and finalizing one sheets. This is always an exciting time of year for us, with optimism and anticipation abounding. It also reminds me of our differences, though. I am not a brilliant writer, and frankly, I don’t want to be. But I’m so glad she has found this thing that she is both passionate about and very talented at. As her husband, I get to use my business and management talents and have the chance to help her network and make career turning decisions. That is very exciting for me! I’m thankful that we have different strengths and weaknesses so we can complement each other.

I can’t think of a single couple whose strengths and weaknesses even come close to aligning. We all have different things we are good and not good at. For a big part of our dating and then early marriage relationship, these opposing strengths and weaknesses really seemed to make our lives more difficult. We each had expectations of the other to do and think like we did. Guess what, folks?! We didn’t. I see this all the time in other relationships, and sometimes it evens tears them apart.

If you are reading this, have you recently thought this about your spouse: “Why would he/she say/do that?! It’s infuriating and makes no sense!” Well, your spouse is different from you. They see things differently, and they may just not be as good as you at certain things. For example, I have a terrible memory. If I’m going to remember something, I have to write it down. Laura remembers just about everything. It was really hard for her, for a long time, to understand how I could forget that we had this or that event coming up or that I needed to take care of this or that. Once she realized that remembering wasn’t my strength, and I realized that I needed to try to write things down more, we rarely argue about that issue. I have other strengths that she finds really helpful, and we balance each other out.

Looping back to ACFW, we are a team. Each of us has different talents and strengths that offset one another, and hopefully, someday, we'll get to see Laura share her incredible stories with the world. As her husband, that teamwork makes me very happy. So, if you find yourself bothered by your spouse’s differences, try teaming up by aligning your complementary strengths. I think you’ll like it much better.


~Howell

@G2WHubs

He's in the Waiting

“Take courage, my heart. Stay steadfast, my soul. He’s in the waiting.”

What a powerful chorus. This song—"Take Courage" by Kristene Di Marco—stays on repeat in my house, in my car.

We’re in a season of waiting. Still.

Seven years and counting. That's how long we’ve been eagerly seeking Him for children, for the greatest desire of our heart. In almost ten years of marriage, 70% of that time has passed with hope deferred. 80 months of delayed answers, of no, not this time, not yet.

The Lord’s word to me this year is Anticipation.

Wait. Hope. Expect. Anticipate.

I’m reminded of the verse He gave me a long time ago: “Those who wait/hope/trust/expect in the Lord will not be disappointed.”

If ever I feel disappointed, my trust has moved to something else, a false hope, a wrong expectation.

“But those who wait on the Lord…”

“He is actively working on behalf of those who wait on Him.”

I feel like I’m in a holding pattern, suspended but on the brink of a new season. I can feel it. I anticipate it.

Holding my breath, as I wait…

For doors to open,

For dreams to happen,

For promises to be answered.

In the last seven years, what I’ve found is captured so well in this song. When I want to forget, when I doubt, when it feels too long, too impossible: He’s in the waiting.

The song says, “Take Courage,” the very words Jesus spoke to His disciples in Matthew 14 when the storm came, and they feared for their lives.

A little while earlier, Jesus had sent them ahead of himself. And now, maybe they feel abandoned. John 6 says, “It was near dark, and Jesus had not yet come.”

Ever feel that way?

But then, there He is. Walking on the water.

Take courage, He says.

Because He knew. He always knows the outcome.

In this moment, the disciples have the opportunity to witness a miracle, a glimpse of His power.

In this moment, Peter has the chance to go deeper in His faith.

All the events culminate to the here, the now.

Yes, there’s a storm. Yes, Jesus had not yet come, and now they feel abandoned.

But it’s like He says, Take courage. Here I am. And I’m giving you something rare and powerful, an experience, an encounter you won’t forget.

Though we face unknowns, though our hearts are full of anticipation, I sense it even now:

He’s here. He knows. He’s got a spectacular story for us. 

For you.

I don't know what your heart longs for, my friend. I don't know how long you've been waiting. But I do know this, our God is a good Father, our Jesus is never delayed, and our Holy Spirit is present, full of power and comfort and grace. 

“Take courage, my heart. Stay steadfast, my soul. He’s in the waiting.”

Swinging Pendulum

Sometimes I feel like my life can be described in two modes—dieting or not dieting.

Do y’all know what I mean?

I’ll start a diet and count all the numbers and say No to all the yummy things, and then I’ll get down to a weight—maybe not my goal weight, but I start to feel good about myself, and those jeans aren’t so tight now, and so what would it hurt to throw in a cookie with my salad. I was healthy. I deserve a little treat, right?

And then BAM. Let the backsliding begin.

A little treat becomes a lot of treats. They’re oh so good. And my jeans still fit, so what’s the harm?

But before I know it, I’m back to that weight, the number that’s like my attention-getter, and I hunker down into serious mode, and everyone around me knows—okay, folks, it’s time to diet again.

No, sorry, I can’t eat your delicious dessert. I’m dieting.

Sorry, I’m not eating bread. Thanks.

And I tell myself, when I start to get back to that “Yeah, this is good” weight I will keep eating like this. It’ll be a lifestyle. Because I feel so much better when I eat the good-for-me food. And so of course, I’m going to stick with it this time.

But then we get invited for Mexican food. And yeah, I should order the taco salad, but man, there’s queso and those enchiladas…..

And voilà. The cycle repeats. It’s like Dr.Eggerichs’ crazy cycle but instead of love and respect, it’s salad or lasagna.

So, can I be vulnerable, friends? (Yeah, more vulnerable than just confessing what my nutritional cycle looks like on an annual basis. Ha!)

This journey with infertility feels a little like my diet cycle.

Although instead of ‘dieting’ or ‘not dieting,’ it sometimes feels like faith or fear.

I’m full of faith, completely believing that God has good things for us, that we’ve heard His Word on this, that I’m healed and whole and completely capable of bearing children.

And then there’s one little slip up. Like that cookie I eat with my salad.

Maybe I really thought I’d be pregnant one month, but I wasn’t. And instead of running to my good Father with my heart, I protect it. Just a little.

Then a small lie creeps in, a quiet voice that tells me it’s my fault. If I’d had more faith. If I’d done this or that (or not eaten all. the. bread.), then maybe we would’ve gotten pregnant this month.

And then that little lie blossoms into more fear, more doubt.

Before I know it, I’m not just protecting my heart, I’m full-blown hiding it, avoiding the topic, the prayers, the declarations of faith altogether.

But it’s harvest season again. This time of year does something to my heart. I told you last fall how inspired I felt by the neighboring farm, ripe with cotton to harvest.

Our farmers plant seeds, in faith, and expect to see the fruits. They hope for what they cannot see. But they believe—

That God provides.

That God is good.

That God creates and sustains all things.

So here I am—driving by bolls of white cotton every day—and I’m reminded of the faith that He deposited in me, of the promise He’s given me, over and over and over again.

“He makes the barren woman to be the joyful mother of children.”

Dr. Eggerichs talks about how the crazy cycle in marriage is not something we ever stay off of completely, even in the best of marriages (can you tell we’re leading this marriage life group, and I’ve got Love and Respect on the brain?). He says the goal is how quickly you can recognize that you’re ON the crazy cycle and get off it.

Maybe that’s the application here, too. It’s probably unrealistic to think that I’ll be full of faith all the time. Never doubting. Never struggling to believe. Never weary.

But when I get in that place, I’ve got recognize it and get off the cycle quicker.

How about you, my friends?

Maybe it’s not about fertility for you, but is there something you’re believing God for? Is there a dream He’s placed in your heart? Do you battle with fear and doubt?

Let’s recognize when we’re headed down the path of lies and speak truth to our hearts once again.

Times of Change

For Laura and I, now is a time of change. Our schedules are changing, my job has changed, and our kitchen is in the middle of a facelift. It’s like our little world has been turned upside down.

To be transparent, these times are a struggle for me. Keeping everything else straight while certain parts of our lives are in flux is beyond my natural ability, and I have to rely on the Lord for help with this. We’ve done this a few times now, and with experience does come some wisdom.

During times of change or new beginnings, it’s very important to manage expectations. This is something that I naturally struggle with, and I think, a lot of other people do too. I’m great at the classic, “This will take ten minutes…” when it actually takes an hour. It’s a matter of learning for me, but it’s very important to give your spouse realistic expectations of time, money, and effort that is going into or out of whatever project or effort you are conducting. Accuracy isn’t always possible, but it’s definitely better to under promise and over deliver.

Another thing that is helpful is a prepared heart. I talk about this a lot, but taking the time to slow down and have the conversations that keep connections between people going is vital. First, it’s a good idea to say to each other that this is likely to be a stressful time and pray together about it going in, if possible. Second, I believe it’s vital to check on each other as you go through. Lately, we haven’t had a kitchen available, and this is very inconvenient for both of us. It requires extra meal planning so both of us have asked each other how the other is feeling that day, and if they would like to eat out or have leftovers. These little conversations let the other person know that you see them and what they are going through too.

Most importantly, it’s vital to stay spiritually connected during times of change. Your metaphorical ship is being tossed by waves, and the only one who can truly right it is Christ. If I’m not in tune with what the Holy Spirit is trying to tell me about Laura, or I’m just in “survival mode,” trying to make it until tomorrow, then we are susceptible to any and all icebergs in the water. This is especially difficult for me, because I like routine. I master something, and I can function at a high level, but when I don’t have control, I’m using all my mental resources to keep going. If you’re like me, the only lifeline in times like this is the Holy Spirit. Thankfully though, He is there and helps me do what I cannot, under my own power.

How about you? Are you facing any changes or new beginnings? What lessons have you learned in times of transition?

~Howell

@G2WHubs

Present over Perfect: More Baby Steps

Okay, y’all, I know I mentioned Shauna’s book, Present over Perfect, in last week’s #MarriageMonday post, but I’ve finished the book and want to share a few more small victories I’ve had. :) 

I’ve given my hearty recommendation for this book in lots of other posts (here and here and here). This book is a game-changer if you’re any range on the Type A scale or if you’ve ever felt any of the following:

I want to stay home tonight, but I have to do/go/be/make/lead/clean up/set up for X event.

I am too tired to be tired.

If I don’t do it, then…..

If only I had time to do….

I could keep going, but, well, you get the idea. She calls it gluttony, the addiction we have to being on the go, always moving, always striving, always adding more, more, more to our plate.

Then we begrudge the life we’re living (though we’d never admit this) because we don’t have time, or we’re exhausted, or we have another dream in our heart, or _________ (fill in the blank).

As someone who is always the responsible person, always the go-to girl, I have identified with Shauna’s words in ways I can’t even describe. I feel like she is writing about me for much of her book—minus the musician husband, the two kids, and the being a famous author with a full speaking schedule, of course. :) 

But seriously. My whole adult life has been about working hard, striving for that next level of accomplishment, that next thing to get to.

I’m in my early 30s, and I somehow know that if I don’t get this right, if I don’t learn how to say no and slow down and find the balance—the real balance—between work and home, then I’ll be worn out for the next 30 or 40 years. I’ll resent my work and what I do, and I’ll have no one to blame but myself.

This book could not be more timely for me.

So, a few weeks ago, I told you about my first baby steps—turning off my email notifications. Between 8:00 and 5:00 Monday to Friday, I am glued to a computer and email and phone calls and decisions and fires to be put out, but when I go home, it all turns off.

I take my full lunch. I’ll admit there are still some days where meetings stack up, and I’m not getting a lunch break, but for the most part, I am taking a full hour every day to DISCONNECT and RECHARGE.

And I’m writing. I’m doing that thing that fuels my soul, the longing in my heart that isn’t satisfied until I go to that imaginative alter-reality and start clicking away on my keyboard.

Today I’m happy to share some more milestones. A couple weeks ago I said no to something that I felt obligated to say yes to, and I said yes to two things that were out of my “I must be responsible” character.

Y’all, it felt so good.

I am in control of me. And although I can’t necessarily control what walks through my office door or what pops up in an email or what comes through my phone, I do get to be in control of my time—how I choose to spend it.

I choose to spend the hours at work being present—doing the best job that I can do, being intentional with every person I come in contact with, asking the Lord for help—all. the. time.

And I choose when to say work ends—and now my home life begins. This is my time with Howell. This is my time for us, for our family, for our friends.

How about you, friends? How are you managing your time? What can you say no to today? Any advice for a recovering busy-aholic?

Five Things I Wish I Had Known as a Newlywed

A couple weeks ago Howell told me the sermon topic at his men’s morning group was “10 things I wish I knew when I was 21.”

We started talking about how that would make a great blog post if we related it to our first year of marriage. So this week, I’ll share five things I wish I had known in our first year of marriage. (In two weeks, Howell will share his five.) 

1. It’s okay for Howell to have friends and need guy time—like hunting or playing basketball. These are good for his soul, and rather than feeling insecure that he wants time alone or time away, I’ve learned to encourage him to do so. 

2. We don't have to be the same. It’s okay that he loads the dishwasher differently or that he doesn’t know what we’re doing five weekends from now, or even that he doesn’t like all my same shows. He doesn’t have to be like me to love me, and if he doesn’t do something like I would, it also doesn’t mean he doesn’t love me.

3. In most arguments, we’re both wrong. I probably didn’t learn to apologize and ask for forgiveness until about year four or five of our marriage. If I was upset, of course my reason was legit—and Howell was wrong. Period. I had to learn that sometimes I need to apologize for getting upset—for overreacting, for being too sensitive, for responding in anger, etc.

4. My response is my responsibility. Most of the time, what Howell said or did was not offensive or hurtful, even if I took it that way. But whether my reason for getting upset was legit, I am always in control of how I respond.

5. Howell's heart for me is good. I wish I had learned to get to Howell’s heart sooner instead of jumping to the constant conclusion that “he did X so he must not love me.” So often I would get my feelings hurt over something he did or said, and it would take a while to calm down and hear that he either didn’t mean it that way or didn’t realize that X decision or statement would cause me to respond the way I did.

**Bonus! I’d tie all this together by saying a common theme in our first year of marriage was insecurity. Most of the time, however I was responding or reacting was based on my level of security. I often doubted Howell’s love for me, and I was quicker to be suspicious that he doesn’t love me than to believe that he did.

But the greatest lesson I learned—and it changed our marriage drastically—was to find true security in the Lord. Howell can’t be my all and everything. At some point, he’ll let me down—and no one wants to live under that kind of pressure anyway.

But if I trust in the Lord to be my source, then I can also learn to trust my husband’s heart toward me, and I can feel secure in our marriage because I feel secure in the Lord.

Friends, if you’re newly married, you might find yourself in conflict often, but you can get to your spouse’s heart and see that he or she loves you; you can find self-control and respond appropriately; and you can find security in the Lord for a healthy marriage.

If you’ve been married a while—what are your lessons? What do you wish you’d known in your first year of marriage?

A Thankful Heart: Remembering God's Goodness

Happy Thanksgiving—a day of gratitude! 

I blogged last Thursday about how my heart is full of gratitude, and that theme continues to run through my mind. 

At Holiday Happening last week, I bought this sign to hang in our living room:

I love putting reminders in front of me to be grateful, to find joy, to have a thankful heart. In Psalm 84, it says that God withholds no good thing from us, and in James, we’re told that He gives good gifts. He recently told me that He actually delights in our asking Him for gifts—for the desires of our heart. 

What good Father doesn’t love to lavish His children with gifts—with unexpected surprises that bring squeals of joy? 

The hard lesson—at least for me—has been the process of asking for gifts, believing God for answered prayers, but not putting expectations on Him.  

If your expectations are in the thing you’re asking for rather than in Him, then you’re setting yourself up for disappointment. 

If you feel disappointed in God—that He’s holding out on you or that He has not delivered on His word, then your expectations are in the thing you’ve asked Him for rather than in Him. 

His Word says that those who trust IN HIM won’t be disappointed. Another verse says it like this: Wait patiently for the Lord, for my expectation is in Him.

In February of this year, I heard Danny Silk preach in Amarillo, and his sermon topic was Expectation versus Expectancy. He called God’s goodness, His blessings, “The River of Expectancy.” We should flow in this river, operate in this river—and anticipate, always, that God has good things in store for us. 

Again—He is a good Father. He withholds No. Good. Thing. And He delights in our asking. 

But expectations are like a box that we put God in when we tell Him to perform or else. When we put demands on Him, when we restrain how or what He can do in our lives, when we put restrictions on the miracle—that it must look like this and not that—we have created expectations. 

We’ve moved out of the river of expectancy and into the quicksand of disappointment. 

Howell and I have several areas in our life where we are believing God will move. If you’ve read Mark Batterson’s The Prayer Circle, he calls it circling your prayers—your specific requests. My favorite quote from Mark’s book is that the things we’re circling must not become ‘to do’ lists. (Again—that’s like a box of expectations.) Instead, he says, we have to pray for God’s will, God’s way. I love that! 

Putting expectancy versus expectations into practice is harder than it sounds—or maybe, for some, it's as hard as it sounds. :) Last May, I asked God, “How do I pray into these areas of our life, how do I continue asking and believing to see You move, to see a miracle, without putting You in a box or putting my hope and expectation in the thing?”

His answer to me? 

REMEMBER MY GOODNESS.

God’s goodness is inherent in His nature—He is a GOOD GOD. And when we remember His goodness, we remain grateful. We remember the blessings. We remember His faithfulness, His answers, His gifts.

Remembering God's goodness is the antidote to hopelessness.  A grateful heart overcomes feelings of disappointment.

What are you believing God for today? Have you put Him in a box with expectations—a timeline or a set of parameters in which He is supposed to perform?  Or is your faith—the foundation of your belief—rooted in gratitude and in the inherent goodness of God? 

I encourage you, friend, on this day of Thanksgiving—and every day, have a thankful heart.

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What does "Not my will, but Yours" look like?

Every morning for a week. Seven days. The words replay in my head over and over and over again. His prayer in the garden: “not my will, but yours.”

But how? How does He get there? What does that even mean? Not my will, but yours? What does that look like? For me. For Laura. Today. September 15, 2013.

I can't find where I first journaled about these words, where the revelation hit me square in the face. His words--He, too, begged:

"O, Father, if it is possible, let this cup pass from me; nevertheless, not as I will, but as you will" (Matthew 26:39).

I read it again in Mark and in Luke: 

“Abba Father, all things are possible for You. Take this cup away from Me; nevertheless, not what I will but what You will” (Mark 14:36).

“Father, if it is Your will, take this cup away from Me; nevertheless not My will but Yours be done” (Luke 22:42).

But the cup could not pass; there was no other way for salvation. He had to endure the cross.  This was the plan for redemption—that He who knew no sin would become sin, on our behalf, that we might become the righteousness of God in Him (2 Cor 5:21). 

And so, it says, He prayed again—a second time: "O My Father, if this cup cannot pass away from Me unless I drink it, Your will be done." (Matthew 26:42). And in John, we see total acceptance: to Peter, He says, "Put your sword into the sheath. Shall I not drink the cup which My Father has given Me?" (John 18:11).

And there, in His words, I'm encouraged: He, fully human, God's only son, asked for a different plan. And, He, too, received a "No."  

But what does He do? Does he throw a fit? Does he become offended?  Of course not. He—fully human, fully perfect—sets the example: "Not my will, but yours." 

And so, for seven days, I've been thinking about that. What does that mean? What does “not my will, but yours” look like lived out? 

Just this week, I’ve had several women tell me they’re encouraged to read my blog. My first thought, I’ll admit, is something along the lines of What? People actually read this? But my second thought—the one that captivates me most—is pure fear: What if blogger Laura looks fantastic, but real Laura…not so much?

And here’s the truth God showed me: What people read and relate to is your vulnerability. When you’re willing to be vulnerable, you open a door to others that says it’s okay to be vulnerable. And when we’re vulnerable, we’re honest. With ourselves and with others.

Because here’s the other truth: Blogger Laura and Real-Life Laura do not have it all together.

And you know what?  That’s okay.

My vulnerability for today:  It's hard for me to admit that because, if I’m honest, I’d really rather have it all together. I’d rather be that woman of faith—already. Arrived. Complete. I see her in others—but it’s hard to see her in me.

The last seven days have been hard, but when I surrender, when I talk to the Lord about my heart—where I really am, I find that I’m right where He wants me to be. From the beginning of this journey, I told the Lord: I want to be real as I walk through this. Often we give our testimony after the fact. But I didn’t want that. I wanted to give my testimony during the journey.

And I’ve learned two incredible truths so far: 

1. The greater the hope, the greater the risk of disappointment. (And related: the greater the wait, the longer the delay—the sweeter the reward.)
2.  If my circumstances do not change, God is no less good and no less faithful.

 But I’ve learned some other things, too—that it’s okay to be offended with the Lord. He can take it. It’s not okay to stay there. But it’s okay to be there. For a time. 

It’s also okay to play the “What if” game. What if this doesn’t work? What if this—this thing I want—isn’t supposed to happen? What if ______ (Fill in the blank: worst case scenario)? But it’s not okay to stay there. It’s not okay to live there.

And above all: it’s okay to not be okay. Jesus was not okay in the garden as He prayed, as He begged: isn’t there another way? can there be a different plan?

This week, I’ve not been okay. I've been thinking all along if I just pray enough and beg enough and DO enough and have enough faith, I can somehow change God's will. I can make it like mine. But that's just not true--and I don't think that's what He desires of me. 

He desires a heart that says—that really says—not my will, but yours.

So what does that look like? Maybe it’s the choice to choose Him, to choose that He is sufficient for me. He is enough. He is Abba.

Maybe it means I change the way I pray—change what I demand. I’ve begged for my way, and now it’s time to stop; it’s time for my heart to align with whatever He wants, with whatever He wills.

I want to learn what He desires of me, and I only want to desire what He desires. I want to learn to really hide my heart in Him, to hide my expectations in Him, to be content that He is sufficient.

Not my will, but yours.

Psalm 62

I was meditating on Psalm 62, and as my heart this morning was a little overwhelmed with things to do and bills to pay, the Lord just reminded me of who He is and how securely I can trust in Him for all things. I thought I'd share for anyone who also needs to be reminded today...

Psalm 62

1 Truly my soul silently waits for God;
From Him comes my salvation.
2 He only is 1 my rock and 2 my salvation;
He is 3 my defense;
I shall not be greatly moved.

3 How long will you attack a man?
You shall be slain, all of you,
Like a leaning wall and a tottering fence.
4 They only consult to cast him down from his high position;
They delight in lies;
They bless with their mouth,
But they curse inwardly. Selah

5 My soul, wait silently for God alone,
For 4 my expectation is from Him.
6 He only is my rock and my salvation;
He is my defense;
I shall not be moved.
7 In God is my salvation and 5 my glory;
The rock of 6 my strength,
And 7 my refuge, is in God.

8 Trust in Him at all times, you people;
Pour out your heart before Him;
God is a refuge for us.

9 Surely men of low degree are a vapor,
Men of high degree are a lie;
If they are weighed on the scales,
They are altogether lighter than vapor.
10 Do not trust in oppression,
Nor vainly hope in robbery;
If riches increase,
Do not set your heart on them.

11 God has spoken once,
Twice I have heard this:
That power belongs to God.
12 Also to You, O Lord, belongs mercy;
For You render to each one according to his work.

HE IS…

1. My Rock: Figuratively—someone who is strong, stable and dependable.

2. My Salvation: Hebrew meaning—help, deliverance, victory. In the abstract sense it is something [already] saved or delivered.

3. My Stronghold: Literally—fortified place or fortress; place of survival or refuge. A defense.

4. My Expectation: Hope—to have confidence or trust in something with the expectation of its fulfillment.

5. My Glory: Hebrew meaning—weight, honor, esteem, glory, majesty, abundance, wealth. Poetically it refers to a soul or a person.

6. My Strength: The power to resist strain or stress; durability. The state, property, or quality of being strong. The power to resist attack; impregnability.

7. My Refuge: Literally—protection or shelter in times of hardship, a source of help, relief, or comfort in times of trouble.


Therefore I will…


Trust: Hebrew meaning—to attach oneself, to trust, to confide in, to feel safe, to be confident, to be secure, to be careless. The word expresses firmness and solidity. The folly of relying upon another type of security is strongly contrasted with depending on God alone. This type of hope is a confident expectation, not a constant anxiety.

Pour out: Hebrew meaning—to spill forth, to pour out, to shed. Metaphorically, it means to bare one’s soul, i.e. in tears and complaints. This word is used to describe the helpless condition of the psalmist.


My heart: Hebrew meaning—literally in noun form, it is the heart, the center or middle of something, meaning the physical heart, the blood-pumping organ. However, in the bible, the whole spectrum of the human emotions is attributed to the heart.






My gracious father, once again I have neglected to remember who you are and who I am in you. You are my rock. You never change father. You are constant and dependable. You will not fail me. Your promises are true. You are stable. You are my salvation. I am depraved apart from you. I was in need of a savior, and you saved me. You are my help. You have delivered me. You are my defense. You are my stronghold—my refuge in time of need. You are the place that I can run to—my shelter. You are my glory. This means that you are my esteem, my honor, my wealth, my abundance, my happiness—you are, Jesus, my soul. All of me! You are my strength. “The rock of my strength.” You give me the ability to restrain, the ability to resist strain or stress, and the power to resist attack. And because you are my rock, and the rock of my strength, this strength is dependable; it is a constant source. You are my refuge—my source of help, relief, aid and comfort. You are my protection—my shelter. I am reminded of Colossians 2:10 “You are complete in Him, who is the head of all principality and power.” You complete me father, nothing else in this world. You are better. “To live is Christ and to die is gain.” You are all these things and more. Your very character and nature is indescribable…there are not words enough to cover your attributes. I will meditate on who the word says you are when I am at a loss. And I am reminded that you demand preeminence in my life. You are to be first, “for the Spirit who dwells in us yearns jealously.” (James 4:5). But so often I fail you Lord. Instead of surrendering to you, I try to reign and control. Instead of trusting, I worry. Instead of resting, I move. My heart, Lord, my motive, truly is to please you in all things, to glorify you in everything I do. But I don’t trust. I don’t rest. My flesh wins, and I end up grieving your heart. I am sorry. I can say it no other way. I will pour out my heart before you. I will give you my complaints, my tears and all of me. If the heart is the whole spectrum of human emotions, then I will pour out to you my whole heart. You are a refuge for me. And I will place my trust—my hope—in you. In nothing else. For you never fail! You never waiver. I will attach myself to you and confide in you. In you I can be secure. I can be careless—I love this. It means that I can be without a care—without a worry. You supply every need of mine. I will not want. In you, I have a confident expectation—NOT a constant anxiety. You are sufficient. You sustain. You are faithful. Give me these desires of my heart—may they be truths in my heart. Your love for me is irrevocable. It is unchanging. May I always trust in that. May you strengthen my Spirit—it is willing, though my flesh is weak. I need you father. Remind me of who you are, when I am weak and forget. Be that still soft whisper in my heart, to take refuge in my confidant, in my rock. I love you. May my life be a reflection of that. Continue to teach. Continue to grow. In Jesus’ powerful name—let it be so!