abide.

2012 recap (questions stolen from a facebook thread I saw this morning):

1. What was the single best thing that happened this past year?
This is an almost impossible question to answer. God has done SO much this year. But I was (and AM!) so so grateful to be accepted into nursing school. I will never ever forget that moment. Shaking hands, heart about ready to beat outside my chest, ripping open that letter. Reading the words. Accepted. Laughter. Tears. Sweet celebration. Unity. Family. I get chills just thinking about it again.

2. What was the single most challenging thing that happened?
Hands down my biggest challenge this year has been learning how to face opposition. Opposition that seemed so unfair and unjust. Opposition that didn't make sense. It's been a year of learning that God promises that I will face trials, but He remains the same. I can trust Him. It's been a year of asking God for deeper grace and humility, but also a year of learning to stand firm and confidently in who He has created me to be.

3. What was an unexpected joy this past year?
I could write a whole blog post about this alone, and if you want to hear the full story I am more than happy to tell it. But in short, there was some seriously beautiful restoration that happened this year. It was unexpected. and it was really joyous. God has taken my dear friend Emma and I on a seriously radical journey, and it is with great *unexpected* joy that I call her my dear friend. Such beautiful lessons we've learned. Both together, and apart.

4. What was an unexpected obstacle this year?
I totaled my car in March. THAT was unexpected. and scary. and a lesson in "don't turn around and talk to someone in the backseat no matter how bad they want you to look at them."

5. Pick three words to describe 2012.
I really love these kinds of questions. like, a lot. My three words: battle, rooted, hope

6. What were the best books you read this year?
The last half of my year was spent with my nose in textbooks. But the first half of the year I read some incredible books. On the list of winners this year, in no particular order: The Hunger Games series by Suzanne Collins, Unbroken by Laura Hillenbrand, Heroes and Monsters by Josh Riebock, One Thousand Gifts by Ann Voskamp, ZVI by Elwood McQuaid, Choosing Gratitude by Nancy Leigh DeMoss, The Night Circus by Erin Morgenstern, and Safe Haven by Nicholas Sparks.

7. What were the best movies you've seen this year?
Les Miserables. Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close. Pitch Perfect.

8. If you had to thank one person for their role in your life this year, who would you thank and why?
I loathe this question. I really do. Therefore, I will not be following the rules. There are SEVERAL people I'd like to thank. But before I do, I'd like to thank all of you. Every blog reader, every facebook friend, every stranger who has smiled at me in Trader Joe's. Every single one of you is so valuable. and I treasure your role. Now, for those of you who just need a few extra sentences :) Again, in no particular order:

Soph: Oh, sweet girl. You have taught me so much about patience, discipleship, and consistency. Jesus has used you to show me what it means to "rejoice with those who rejoice, and mourn with those who mourn." You have celebrated with me, been excited with me, and laughed with me. and you have cried with me, prayed with me, and sat in trenches with me. You are such a treasure.

Mrs. Read: Preparing for your wedding was one of the most beautiful seasons Jesus has let me be a part of in all of my 20 years. This year was wild!! A whirlwind six months, followed by the most breathtaking day. and now you and Alex are cultivating such a welcoming, safe, Spirit-filled home. I'm so grateful for this year of friendship with you. It was crazy and stressful and beautiful and so so life-giving. Love you.

Emma: oh my goodness gracious. look at this year!! That's really all I have to say. Thanks for being a best friend, an encourager, and a voice of reason and hope. I adore you!

Julie: I don't know if you're surprised to see your name here or not, but seriously: I am SO grateful for your voice in my life. You have done nothing but support me and challenge me to settle for nothing less than God's best. I loved getting to know you a bit better this year, and am so humbled and thankful for the time you have taken out to pour into me.

Sister: This year has taught me SO much about perseverance and living from a place of victory. It was a year of fulfilled dreams and fierce battle. Thank you for being a part of that and choosing to walk life with me. You are loved.

Emily: You called out the leader in me this year. You oh so faithfully chose time and time again to remind me who I am and remind me what I am capable of. Thank you. So much.

Rebecca: This year God loved showing me that He can change everything in the blink of an eye. Long gone are the awkward little high schoolers who only knew how to talk about math and our siblings. and in their place are two women seeking after Jesus and a nursing degree and truth. together. what a legacy.

9. In what ways did you grow spiritually this year?
Again, a whole blog post could be dedicated to this alone. I'm not even sure how to capture this question with words. I've learned some hard lessons. I've been on the front lines of battle. I've made mistakes. I've deeply loved. As I think back on this year, my soul is overwhelmed by the vast goodness of God's Sovereignty in every season. Every last detail has been accounted for. This year, I learned that I am strong. I learned that Jesus faithfully equips me to drudge through judgement and misunderstanding and disgust to speak the truth and hope of God all over the people He has placed in my life. The child-like faith in me still believes in miracles, the impossible, and the amazing equipping of boldness and humility that God grants His kids. He chose me to be His daughter. To be a part of the family of God. Forever. There is no love truer and deeper than that. I have the chance to bottle up just a little sliver of that hope, of that love... with my words. I'm a writer. I embraced that gift this year. 

10. What was the most enjoyable part of your work this year?
My favorite part of my job, always, has been this: I get to step into homes and become a part of the family. I've had friends wonder why I'm so picky about which jobs I take and which jobs I don't. That's the clincher. Right there. Family. I will love your kids, invest in your kids, pray with your kids. Nannying is SO much more than a business arrangement. It's a heart job. and I give it everything I've got. So, this year, and every year, I'm thankful for my families. 

11. What was the single biggest time waster in your life this past year?
Instagram :)

12. What was the best way you used your time this past year?
Obviously, time with Jesus is the most precious part of my every single day. But I think the best way I can use my time is simply loving the people God has given me. It's been such a beautiful year investing and pouring out. I get so excited for coffee dates or couch dates :) and there's been LOTS of them this year. Hearing people's stories, sharing mine, growing together, learning together: that's a really good use of my time. 

13. Pick a word for 2013. 
I've done this for three years now. In 2010, my word was jubilee. In 2011, my word was cling. This year it was disciple. This last week, as I've sat in the presence of Jesus and asked Him what He might have for me this year, I've consistently heard the same thing. over. and over. and over again. The first time it hit me I was driving. last Wednesday. talking with a friend on the phone, actually. and {abide} hit me square in the chest and wouldn't let go. and it's been there ever since. pushing, nudging, pursuing. I'm not sure what this is going to look like yet. But I'm hopeful. and listening. 

Here we go. It's gonna be wild. 

Love to you. 
~Alyssa

Paper Hearts and Sandy Hook.

In a fallen world, we trip and break our hearts.

Sweet little man comes to me with his cut directly out of paper.

When you're five, you can do this. You can take a pair of scissors, grab a piece of paper, and cut your heart neatly out of a white, square, 8 1/2 by 11 sheet of computer paper.

This is what he brings me. A white paper heart.

He has tape in his hands.

"Will you do it, missy lou? I can't make it work." He holds out a roll of mangled scotch tape.

I am helping his brother with a spelling lesson. Decoding the letters of this world.

"What are you trying to do, sweetie?" I try to read him. He wants the heart taped in half? Taped to the wall? Taped to his folder?

"I just want the heart taped to me. Just right here." He points his finger at his chest.

His brother's erasing the paper too hard, wearing a big round whole right through the homework. "How do you spell receive? Is it the 'i' first or the 'e'?"

"E", I murmur quickly, trying to tear of a bit of tape.

"Just tape it right here," he says. He's pointing just above his own beating heart.

"And why are we doing this exactly?" I'm on my knees in front of him, half smiling, looking up into his baby blues, my thumb smoothing along the tape line of this exposed heart.

I ask the question, but my heart knows the answer. Wasn't it just this morning that we sat over toast and tears, talking about the horrid tragedy in Connecticut? Wasn't it just this morning that we talked about how we need to give love to others and embrace every moment?

I think this visual mnemonic is bold and brilliant, a walking sign of hope.

I'm usually the one to cup his face in my hands, but here he has me knelt down in front of him, so he takes full advantage of this moment. He cups my face in his hands, and he bends over slightly so his nose is touching mine. I can feel his breath.

"Because Lyssa..." he pats my head oh so gently. "... so we always know His love's around us everywhere."

He wants to wear a heart right across him so he never forgets.

He holds my face in his hands and I can feel it. I feel how we are held. Perfectly held. Forever.

Will he cut out a heart for me, too?

Will he lend me his sign? This simple declaration that has so elegantly painted the love of Jesus. The love of Jesus so magnificently gentle and wild. The love of my God who births stars into being in my darkness. The love of my Father who shapes His thoughts and pursuit of me into letters that I can read. The love of my Savior who redeemed my fallen life with nails driven right through His hands.

Huge and white, wearing God's heart right there on his striped shirt. He smooths it out. and it tears. right down the center. He looks down at the now broken heart.

I don't know what to say.

Is it his heart or His that's broken today? Maybe it's both.

In the face of deep waters and split-open hearts, God hovers close. The broken-hearted He binds up, swaddles near.

Will he understand this?

"It's okay, I guess. Even when a heart's broken"... his finger runs along it's raw edge..."Jesus still has his love all around me everywhere. and maybe the love gets in easier cuz it's tore?"

Yep. I'd say he has abundant understanding, sweet little love.

All day, he walks the house. Broken heart of love taped to his chest. All day, he reminds me that God is good. God is love. All day he sings "I can sing of your love forever," his song a broken-hearted hallelujah rising on wings of hope, trust, and incredible faith.

Sandy Hook elementary school, we love you. Connecticut, we love you.

God is just. God is love.

Love,
Lyss

Completely and Unapologetically.

I find it so ironic and lovely and challenging and beautiful that God has filled my life to the brim with very logical, rational thinkers. I love them to death. 

It's not going to come as a surprise to most of you reading this that I am the total opposite. I am incredibly whimsical, passionate, and at times irrational. I'm dramatic and driven and headstrong. 

When people take a glance at my life, they sometimes label me with an addiction. an obsession. something that I need to get under control. something that I need to tone down. There are negative words thrown around. Sometimes they joke, but the joking feels real. You're just a little too into that. You're just a little too invested. You're just care a little too much. And I actually take pause and wonder if I am. 

It has happened time and time again. These pauses of wondering. 

I don't necessarily want to be like you, until you remind me just how much I'm not like you, and then I begin to wonder if there's something missing in just being me. 

You sure do spend a lot of time writing. That's all you talk about. 

Maybe you like reading just a little too much. 

Maybe you're too sensitive to be a nurse. 

I get embarrassed. Almost like they've pinpointed something abnormal or unacceptable. There is something there to poke, something that looks different than how they might do it, and so they poke. They poke out of curiosity or out of jealousy or out of boredom. Sometimes they poke in passing and don't give it a second thought. But I always, always give it a second thought. And sometimes third and fourth thoughts, too. The poking? It gets to me. Enough pokes and bruises start to form. We begin to act a bit differently, turning in a slightly different direction to protect that tender spot from more jabs. But now we're just slightly confused in who we are meant to be and what to make of the new direction we're headed. It doesn't feel natural or peaceful. It just carries the illusion of being more safe. 

I am so intrigued by the men and women who don't adjust when the poking continues. I am impressed and in awe of those who continue to stand their ground. Those who don't seem to wonder, "Am I wrong and they are right? Is something a little off in me?" I recently watched a movie about a man like this. It's about Bill Cunningham, a fashion photographer for the New York Times. You can watch it instantly on Netflix, for those of you that are interested. He shared some of the pokes that he had received in his eighty-three years of life. I wonder when his skin got thick enough to endure them? I wonder when he became so comfortable in his own thick skin and was determined to do it his way? I don't want to wait until I'm eighty to have the humble audaciousness to say: Even if you think it's faulty, I have been called to it. It's the only way for me. You may not understand it. You may not agree. Some things may get lost in translation from my heart to yours, but I don't need to cater myself to be someone who feels and thinks just like you do. Jesus made me. and with Him, I'm enough.

I am learning that this deep passion in me... this empathy in my soul... this love for people? It's a gift. A gift and not a misfortune. And the writer in me? That's from Jesus, too. It's my art. It's my heart and thoughts and love written in blood and tears, in deep sighs and laughter. Words make sense of metal mess and are my refiner's fire to push them into the wielder's realm of beautiful gold. How can I apologize for this? Why have I wanted to? Oh, how much joy wells up in my heart amongst the pages of books, amongst the little and big splashes of beauty, amongst the sensitivity and passion, amongst the inner-writer eyes that have come to translate life into something approachable, swallow-able, perhaps even rich and full. and who apologizes for a full life? Even if it's a bit odd, a bit quirky? 

It's such a great pleasure to collect, capture, document, express, and create. It bleeds into every facet of my life... not as something to be managed or tamed, but as something which casts a soft glow of beauty, of meaning, and of love. 

Yes, it makes me vulnerable. Yes, it leaves me feeling a bit exposed. Yes, it leaves me in prime poking territory, cast under classifications I might abhor. Yes, it may leave me to be the butt of jokes or the target for questioning glances. But what is my alternative if this is who God is calling me to be? There is no alternative. It's just sinking deeper into His perfect love and plan for me. Even after I ponder the pokes, I'm learning to circle back around. This is who I have been created to be. 

I finished watching the film, and I just sat for a second. 

And I came to a conclusion. 

Oh, sweet friends. We can give ourselves completely and unapologetically to the calling that has been laid out before us. 

We are so divinely loved and protected. 

No one else on the whole planet can be you. 

Are you organized and punctual? Are you brainy and gentle? Are you a charming dreamer or a sophisticated philosopher? Are you easy-going and flexible? Are you creative and eclectic? Are you gregarious and hospitable? Are you adventurous and daring? Are you hilariously funny? Are you amazing on the court or a talented musician? Are you logical? Are you whimsical?

Or maybe you carry pieces of all of these. Maybe you have been given other gifts entirely. 

Wonderful! Whatever gifts and talents and traits and joys and loves you carry: They're wonderful. 

Just be YOU. 

YOU are beautiful. and needed. and loved. 

Hugs, 

Lyss

It's a symptom.

I'm thinking about joy tonight.

I must've seen four or five random bumper stickers, doodles, or instagram pictures today that have said "choose joy" or something really similar.

I'm about to step outside this catch phrase that we hear so often.

Because in thinking about joy, I'm thinking that the times I've been the most joyful... it hasn't been because I've made a choice.

It has been against my will.

People say that love is a choice. I'm confident that's true. I suppose joy can be a choice in the same way. I choose joy over self-pity. I choose happiness over sullenness. I choose delight over disdain. I choose gratitude over complaining.

Yes. Sometimes joy is a choice.

But for me, joy has more often been a symptom.

This is the kind of joy that makes the stranger in Target smile a big smile and comment on my (I-didn't-know-it-was-that-loud) singing of Christmas songs. It's the kind of joy that makes me truly care about how the barista's afternoon is going. This sweet joy oozes and bubbles over. It's real. It's genuine.

It's part of me.

It's the joy that remains when I have a difficult day with the kids, when I've been mistreated, when I don't agree.

Joy is a symptom of the heart.

It's like when a baby laughs and her whole face carries the joke- as if she doesn't know what else to do with her smile. It HAS TO erupt through her face because her heart is laughing.

That kind of joy doesn't come easily. and I don't think it's always as simple as a choice.

I think it comes with hard work spent devoting a heart in submission to Jesus. It comes with the discipline of waking up each morning and handing over a selfish life to a Father who desires selflessness. Joy is a symptom. It's a symptom of an overflowing heart that walks in deep intimacy with the Creator.

I am carrying joy so deeply tonight. I love this. The taste of the smile on my lips. My heart leaps.

Oh, Jesus, thank You.

Joy comes from a heart that is directed toward Heaven and not earth.

A heart that seeks out His rich beauty for us each day.

Joy can be a choice.

But I sure do love the joy that's a symptom of a heart that's full of Jesus.

What do you think? Do you agree?

Love to you,
Alyssa

all Papa wants is a Barbie.

We were celebrating Christmas. The little girls and I were. Two years ago.

Sweet little loves waded through the torn paper and ribbons, and grandma whispered her thoughts in my ear.  

"Did we get her the right thing?" as she glanced over at the Barbie fashion boutique set the four year old had unwrapped. 

I kind of cringe when I look at Barbies. Tanned plastic bodies and long blonde hair with dream houses and a pink car. I just avoid them at all costs when it comes to getting gifts for little girls, for fear of a warped sense of self. 

However, by 2010, Barbies had been showing up all over in my world. Birthdays, Christmases, even just for a special treat on a Target trip. 

Precious little Erin always seemed to have one tucked under her arm wherever she went. 

There were Barbies in the car. Barbies in the backyard playhouse. Barbies under my bed and Barbies in the shower. 

"Of course you did. Look." I point her toward Erin who had already enlisted her grandpa to free hair stylist Barbie from her plastic bonds. Sweet little girl was carrying Barbie with her cardboard shears and shiny apron around the living room proudly showing her off to the rest of her toys. 

I didn't need to explain further for grandma to see. Erin loved her little dolls. The Barbie was the perfect gift. 

When school started up again in January, I picked up the girls. I stopped in Erin's preschool classroom, and bent down to pick up her leftover construction paper poinsettia, her perfectly imperfect snowflake cutout, and various other Christmas crafts that had collected in her cubby. 

In the mix was a tiny little box addressed to Jesus. Decorated in colored paper and smothered in tape, a bright red bow adorned the top. On the back, in the perfect handwriting of her most wonderful teacher, it read "I would give baby Jesus a Barbie and my snuggle. Erin, 2010."

Snuggle is the blanket she has slept with since she was born. 

Her favorite things. 

Her most treasured things. 

The things she can't live without. 

She offered them to Jesus. 

Her best things. 

Not her sister's toys. Not her leftovers that she's outgrown. Not something she didn't care about. 

In her preschool world, she came and presented Him with the best things she could possibly offer. 

I came home, showed it to momma, and we both cried. and every Christmas, that precious mom sends me a picture of that amazing little box that she pulls out as a reminder. I opened that text message today overwhelmed once again by the beautiful picture her daughter painted. 

Do I give Him my best? My most favorite. The things I tuck under my arm. The things always by my side. Do I give Jesus the most treasured things I own, the things that belong to Him anyway?

All Papa wants is a Barbie. At least from sweet little Erin. 

From me? From me, He wants the finest I have, the first I earn, the sweetest and most precious things in my heart. He wants my first hour, my best concentration, my most prized talents and gifts. 

He wants it all. 

He deserves it all. 

Am I willing to give it to Him?

Hugs, 

Lyss

Thanks, Mark.

Happy December, my dear friends.

I woke up this morning so excited to write in this space over the next 25 days.

It is with great joy that I sit down at my little desk, turn on the lamp, and settle in with my Bible and cup of tea. There's classical christmas music playing in the background, and the page is blank.

Oh, how I love this time of year.

I decided this morning to read the Christmas story in Mark. I couldn't recall ever reading from this gospel for Jesus' birth story, so I thought I'd give it a whirl.

Well.

Mark likes to cut to the chase, it appears.

No Mary and Joseph. No manger. No little baby Jesus. No shepherds, wise men, frankincense or myrrh. No bright star. No Gabriel. No heavenly hosts.

No silent night.

No holy night.

I was slightly disappointed at first.

If Mark was the sole gospel in which Jesus' entrance into our world was mentioned, I think Christmas would look drastically different.

Would there be gifts? Would there be parades and bows and trees?

Would Linus be there to deliver the most stellar line in the Charlie Brown Christmas special?

Would there be bright shining lights?

I don't know.

But my vivid imagination pictures a wild looking man similar to John the Baptist dressed in leather, preparing the way for Jesus by preaching a message. A message we don't usually hear at Christmas.

A message that's rough around the edges and a little hard to swallow alongside my mashed potatoes and cherry pie.

Repentance.

That one word sums up the beginnings of the Jesus story according to Mark.

“And so John came, baptizing in the desert region and preaching a baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins. The whole Judean countryside and all the people of Jerusalem went out to him. Confessing their sins…” (Mark 1: 4-5). 

This is about the place in the message where I start to hope that some people I know are really paying attention. We all do this at times. I know you know what I'm talking about. I climb up on that mental high horse and think, "Thank You Lord for this message that all these people need to hear- because You know how they act. You know how selfish they are. Whew. And you just know how much they need a full out repentance revival!"

It is right at that moment that Jesus whispers to me. 

It's a message to you, daughter. You need this message, Alyssa. I am calling you to repent. This is the way you need to prepare for Christmas in your heart this year.

“I will send a messenger ahead of you, who will prepare the way- a voice of one calling in the desert, ‘Prepare the way for the Lord, make straight paths for him’ ” (Mark 1:2-3).

This girl. 

I can be such a mess. 

But I hear the messenger calling for repentance. 

So, I make the Christmas story not the same old story, but a message meant for my heart. 

... and I whisper once again, "oh, I love you, Jesus. Forgive me. Heal me. Restore me. Those little places I excuse. Those same old things that trip me up. The pride that keeps me thinking it's someone else's fault. The busyness that makes me forget to stop and consider my ways, my thoughts, my actions. You, Messiah, are the best match for my mess."

I doubt this will ever be the most popular version of the Christmas story, but for me this year, it's perfect. 

Love to you, 

Lyss

addicts and thanks.

I've been addicted.

I've been addicted to structure, perfectionism, and stress.

I had somehow smeared my life into one really ugly blur. 

A dear momma friend of mine challenged me to do something: When I felt it in my veins, the stress racing through my blood, the speed of perfectionism circulating angrily... I was to audibly give thanks. Give thanks right out loud. That was it. It wasn't complicated. and it wasn't easy.

The stress intervention? Just a straight up dose of gratitude.

We did it together. For two weeks. Last summer.

I'd sling the baby up on my hip and holler hard for the kids to hurry. Oh, how the clock can tick like thunder in my ears and suddenly I feel my voice become like lightning, striking little souls.

When the stress strikes and I'm heavily under the influence of perfectionism, then is the time for the injection of thankfulness. I'd breathe deeply and say it out loud:

"Thank You for crazy beautiful kids. Thank You for ridiculous lincoln logs. Thank You for mismatched socks. And thank You that we get to be here. breathing. together. right now."

And suddenly my breathing would slow and my heart would be full.

Giving thanks is profoundly life giving.

But an hour later, there I was again. On my hamster wheel. Popping the perfectionism like a pill. It makes us all hurt. Why in the world do I do this?

But once again, I spit out that pill and pop a different one. I refuse to be a perfectionism addict.

Give me grace for gratitude, Jesus.

... and each time it gets a little bit easier. A little bit easier to interrupt that stress with thanks.

For fourteen days, we sent the stress packing and asked gratitude to make it's home.

Multiply the thanks, decrease the stress.

It wasn't complicated. It isn't complicated.

It wasn't easy. It isn't easy.

But it's really beautiful. Giving thanks, in so many ways, gave me my life back.

My thoughts today, on this beautiful fall holiday, surrounded by family and beautiful friends, are rather simple:

If gratitude is an antidote for anxiety...

If giving thanks is the cure for stress...

why do we confine thanksgiving to one day a year when giving thanks has the ability to revolutionize our whole entire lives?

I watch how she reads. I watch how his little eyes flutter as he succumbs to sleep. I watch how the light falls. I watch how the windshield wipers ebb and flow. I watch.

I do this. I record the gifts that He gives. I gather up these moments like manna from heaven.

It's a feast every single day, my sweet friends.

We are given a Thanksgiving feast everyday.

Joy is a product of gratitude. and gratitude is a product of a perspective.

We can change our lives. We just have to change the way we see.

Choosing to be aware of blessing, seeing beauty in the mundane, documenting the abundance of gifts- this is what changes what we are looking for. This is what changes our perspective.

Thanksgiving isn't just today.

Giving thanks is the lens through which Jesus intends for us to capture joy all year round.

Best friend's hands gloriously go up in surrendered worship. She is beaming.

The stress is untangling.

This moment is a gift. I watch. I remember it. I write it down.

"The sound of community dancing with one heart..."

and I feel the stress begin to evaporate. the perfectionism finds no place in my soul.

Why miss our lives?

Why miss all the ways He loves?

I want to be here. awake to His crazy Grace.

We're all addicted to busy. We're addicted to schedules and time and accomplishment.

But I am choosing to chase after God's best for me.

Seeking Him. Praising Him. Trusting Him.

Thanking Him.

And there it is, at the beginning of the gift-giving season. The most beautiful picture.

His beloved children.

Sitting at His feet counting the happy grace of all His endless gifts.

Because Thanksgiving is so so much more than a holiday.

It's the way to wake up to fully living the life God has for you.

Wherever you are tonight, rest sweetly in the perfection of His lavish, extraordinary love for you. Count blessings, collect His gifts, count it all as joy.

Love to you, family and friends.

I'm so grateful for each of you, today and every day.

~Lyss

"Enter by saying: 'Thank you.' Make yourselves at home, talking praise. Thank him. Worship him. For God is sheer beauty, all-generous in love, loyal always and ever." Psalm 100:4-5, the Message

Go ahead. Knock.

Music off, computer off, phone left on silent and put away.

I've been dabbling with the silence lately.

I don't usually sit in quiet. hardly ever.

But lately, I've just needed to listen. I need to soak up the fullness of His presence and hear His voice.

But the truth about the quiet is that it has opened me up so wide. It has turned on dulled senses. It has faced me toward some of the most raw and lonely places.

It is a constant struggle for me not to reach for my phone, always at my side. With my mouth I say I want to walk with God, but so often my actions shout that I crave a culturally acceptable numbness that keeps me from pain.

So many of us know truth with our ears. We know truth in song. We know truth in sweet conversations with friends. But it feels rare to experience truth in the seething corners of our hearts or in the hurtful, skewed moments we keep close and buried. We start to feel the quiet working on us... and we reach for the phone, scroll through instagram or twitter or facebook.

So I pursue the intimate presence of my Jesus. my heart beats in a steady rhythm. my world becomes quiet.

... and I start to ask Jesus what He felt when He was here on earth. Fully human, fully God. God with breakable bones. Then I imagine the desperate, internal communion Jesus faithfully kept with His Father. and I know I want it, too.

Because of who Jesus was, is, and always will be, I am able to embrace the lonely. No need to hide from it. I am choosing instead to ask Jesus into it with me.

It's then when I find myself truly not alone.

Even in our most unified moments as humans, we can feel alone. Even with your most favorite friends, in huge crowds. Even with a husband at your side, and a full quiver of kids. Every single one of us can find ourselves deep in the crevices of loneliness. We find ourselves feeling exposed. unfixed. Because there is no people fix, no earthly father, no covering that will captivate our souls like the covering that Jesus gives.

You know what I'm realizing in the lonely?

I'm realizing a Love that recklessly pursues me. I'm realizing the beauty to be found in sitting with my ever-present Jesus and inviting Him into every nook and cranny of my soul. I'm realizing that it's from the solitude found in His presence that I am then able to reach out to community and practice the healing of togetherness in Him.

Too often in loneliness, I look for a quick fix. I want it fixed now. I don't want to be lonely anymore. So out comes the phone, the computer, the tv.

But I think sometimes the answer is something entirely different.

What if we allowed the quiet? What if we faced the lonely? What if we entered into the secret place and asked Jesus to sit in the loneliness with us for a bit?

I think maybe that lonely place might be exactly where the door is. The door we are invited to freely knock on. The one which Jesus promises to open.

So go ahead.

Knock.

Love to you,
Alyssa

because the world needs more love letters.

I have something to share with you today.

and I am so so excited.

I really just wish you could see my face as I write this. There joy and delight and passion dancing in my eyes. I can't seem to type fast enough.

This isn't going to be long and drawn out. I could spend hours and hours sharing my heart with you. My heart for people. My love of words. The power in words. The magic in words. and if you want to, let's grab coffee sometime. I love coffee dates. and I love heart-sharing.

But today, I'd really like you to watch this video.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?feature=player_embedded&v=n56JDif4hnw

Please. Take five minutes and watch it.

Then visit the website if you wish. http://www.moreloveletters.com/

Letters.

They're simple.

They're powerful.

They're beautiful.

My sister and I started writing letters to each other a few months ago. Sometimes they are pages and pages long, while other times they're simply a sentence. I save every single one. The post-it note scribbles, the journaled declarations of whispered dreams, and the folded paper thank you's. I save them. Because they're so valuable. I love watching the progression. Letters that started out filtered and scared, filled with fear and apprehension... are now raw and messy and perfectly beautiful. We grow closer and closer with each letter scrawled, sealed, and sent.

I have personally seen the fruit of letters. I've written about it before. I've spoken about it before.

But you know what I'm so excited about?? I'm excited to write to strangers. I'm excited to write to my friends. REALLY write to them. Not just send a text or write on their facebook wall. I'm excited to pull out pen and paper. I'm excited to send my cousin a letter just telling her absolutely beautiful she is and how thankful I am for her.

But first, I'd like to tell YOU something.

I'm sitting in the library waiting for my next class. and I'm thinking about wherever you are right now.

Whether you're in the carpool line waiting to pick up your babies, or you're in an office cubicle counting down the minutes until you can head home. Whether you're sixteen or you're sixty. Whether you are right around the corner, or halfway across the world.

I'm thinking about how absolutely magnificent you are.

I wish I could just cup your beautiful face in my hands and say this to you:

You have been so perfectly created. You fill a role that no one else can fill.

You are changing the world just by being YOU.

Glorious, messy, Jesus-filled YOU. 

The one who makes mistakes and keeps on trying. 

The one who is learning about her gifts. learning about grace. learning about dreams. 

The one loving, laughing, soaking up His call on your life. 

The one crying out. 

The one waiting. 

The one who is being molded to be more like Him every single day. 

Yep. YOU. 

World-changer. 

Maybe diaper-changer, too. 

Maybe paper-in-the-printer changer, too. 

You're the only one we've got. 

Wherever you are, whatever you're doing, whoever you're with... you are needed. 

The only world you can change is the one you're in. right here, right now. 

So carry on, my incredible friends. 

You're making a difference. 

You are valuable. 

You are precious. More than priceless is your worth. 

You are loved.

Now it's your turn. Go grab some pen and paper. Write. Send. Love.

Hugs,
Lyss

“It is a surreal feeling, to compose a letter to an individual that you have no ties to but at the same time you want the whole wide world for them. I wished them a bright day. A day full of laughter. I told them they were unique & special & really quite smashing. Really, we are not told enough, in a genuine noncommercial manner, how brilliant we are. How intriguing and wonderful we are. How much we should be commended for waking up today and deciding to take on the task of being human. It is not an easy task. It is not always fun. But it is wildly worth it. Better that we write all these things down.”

my herd.

We are inherently pack animals. I really believe that it is bred deep in our souls to walk together.

We all huddle together in neat little units, families, and friends. We choose people that think and eat and pray just like we do. When we stray too far from the herd, we are weak. vulnerable. scared. Wolves begin to surround us and they start closing in. 

It's just so much safer to stay hunkered down in the middle of the pack. 

But really? Safe is just boring. 

So I start to break free. 

As a child, I drifted around among the ranks. I tried every sport ever created, but never enjoyed it enough to play another season. I started to try out for stage plays and musical theatre. I took art classes. I was a debater, a non-partier, and a lover of English. I switched churches. I started college, and hung out with almost exclusively nursing majors. I couldn't figure out where I belonged as I darted between herds. 

I just wanted to find my own people. 

I'm twenty years old. I'm young. But I'm realizing something really sweet. 

God is there during all the darting and drifting. 

I'm not alone after all. 

I'm a nanny, a student, a daughter, a sibling, a friend. In each of these roles, I see so much segregation. There are church groups, the private school moms, the athletes, the writers. There are the artists, the musicians, and the book club folks. There's the career women and the homemakers. There's the cheerleaders, the football boys, and the crowd on the sidelines. 

Even now, I find myself sprinting between so many of these, hoping it's not too obvious that I'm not a devout attender. There are times when I put on a ruffly top with skinny jeans and chunky jewelry and stay in one group for a while, only to feel the longing to leave and join the ranks of another. So I change into running shoes and sprint quickly through the desolate fields to join the group of yoga-pants-and-sweatshirt-wearing folks. The cycle continues. I don't want to be eaten by the wolves. I don't want to be caught in the middle. I want to be squarely secure in the pack. For safety. 

As I was applying to nursing school, trying to figure out what path God wanted me to take, I got a letter. It was underneath my windshield wipers on my car one day. and it's taken my several weeks to process it. I have no idea who left it, though I have a few ideas :) It said:

Be brave, miss Alyssa. It's more important that you try new things and fail than to sit comfortably in an easy place suceeding. Don't feel that you're failures will ever disappoint us, for in those failures you gain character, strength, and perspective. Think higher. Dream bigger. God expects you to use your talents to their very fullest. Chase after His best for you. Don't settle. You are loved. and you are never, ever alone.

Maybe not fitting in is a good thing. Perhaps in the times we are afraid and vulnerable, running in the wide open fields of doubt, we find our true footing. It's in those times that God is preparing for us to rise up. It's in those times that God is shaping our hearts for the crowns He can't wait to place on our head. 

Or maybe it's during those times that He's just waiting for us to catch a glimpse of the crown that's already there. 

We can rest in the comfort that God is our perfect Shepherd. We can look those wolves straight in the eye and say you cannot touch me. After all, others are running, too. Left and right, there are people darting amongst safe places. 

So we grab hands, friends. We grab hands and we form our own messy, eclectic, diverse, blended, disorganized, beautiful ragtag herd. We laugh. We pray. and we fail. But we keep on running. 

Together. 

For we are loved. And we are not alone. 

and that's what matters. 

To the mommas, the teachers, the nurses, the athletes, the conservatives, the bookworms, the teacher's pets, the rebels, the dancers, the painters, the dreamers, the charismatics, the nannies, the writers, the friends, the hopers: Love you. You belong. 

I love my herd. 

~Lyss

Thank you. Seriously. Thank you.

I honestly wish I could transport each and every one of you to my university and force you to experience what I experienced yesterday.

Yesterday changed my life. It was a day I will remember forever. Literally. Forever.

I will be 80 years old, and telling my grandchildren about Wednesday, October 17, 2012 at around 4 o'clock.

Let me just set the stage for you.

In September of 2010, I began school at Simpson University in pursuit of a nursing degree. and the 24 months following that has been filled with countless hours of studying and lectures and lab, lots of tears, lots of hard work, lots of challenges, lots of decisions, and lots of great anticipation and joy.

I submitted my application into the nursing program on Monday, October 1st, and settled into a three week stretch of waiting.

It actually went faster than I thought, and the day finally arrived. Yesterday.

The last two years culminated in one moment.

I was literally shaking as I put my key into the mailbox and pulled out the envelope. I did my best to rip it open and read only the first few words... "You have been accepted"... before the tears came. I ran out to my dear friends waiting outside and we all just SCREAMED.

Loudly. So loudly that a group of girls from across campus yelled, "Who got engaged?!" haha!!

Jumping and hugging and declarations of our futures. Together.

I don't think I've ever been hugged by so many strangers in a span of five minutes. It was just the most magical celebration.

I truly wish I could adequately express to you everything that I have felt in the last twenty four hours.

But instead, I'd just like to take this time to say Thank You.

To each and every one of YOU. If you are reading this, then I'm talking to you.

Whatever role you have played, whatever amount of time you have invested, the kind words you have spoken or sent, the hug you have given, the hope you have held for me, the strength you prayed over me.

People say this all the time, but from the deepest corners of my heart I say to you:

I would NEVER be where I am today without each of you.

God's perfect timing so amazes me. Every.single.time. I didn't think I could study one more minute or read one more word or take one more quiz or see one more picture of the human body, God used each of you to remind me of who I am and who I am called to be. I found myself smack dab in the middle of so much love.

Your beautiful voices in my world shout so loudly God's heart for my life, and it is with overwhelming gratitude that I humbly thank you.

I got a text on Monday morning that said this: Lyss, you are a daughter of the Most High. Royal blood flows in your veins. The God of truth and hope will deliver what He promises.

God's word breathes life into my soul. His love letter to me is my primary source of peace and safety and truth. But I feel extra, extra loved by Him when He uses each of you to reiterate how He feels about me.

Royal blood flows in my veins...

and it flows yours, too.

I am BLOWN away by the amount of love that has just overtaken my soul during this process.

Jesus knew exactly what He was doing when He created you, and I will forever be grateful for your selfless love for me.

Thank you.

Seriously.

Thank you. 

It is with great pride and joy that I call you family and friends.

... and hey. Someday, if you ever find yourself in the hospital, and I get to be your nurse, I promise you that I will do my best to ensure that you are not only physically cared for. but that you are loved. that you feel as though you have an advocate. that you are safe.

I anxiously await the opportunity to step inside the hospital walls and spread the love of Jesus all over.

You are loved.

Gratefully,
Alyssa

His feet are dirty.

Several years ago, I was a senior in high school. and I heard a sermon about Scripture. It was beautiful. I'll never forget it. I was reminded that His words are sweeter than honey, and are perfectly wonderful for me to crave. And I did. 

For months I read more than I have ever read before- I stuck to that reading plan for months and months. I remember thinking: "this is it. I've reached the relationship that so many people talk about. I'm reading. I'm reflecting. I'm journaling. Yep. This is it." 

and then, somewhere in there, my world crashed down around me. 

My discontent, my questions, my fear... it all came rushing back and I found myself struggling to keep my head above water. I spent my days using every ounce of energy just clinging to His robe, whispering my cries for help. 

I felt so bad thinking it. I almost felt like a heretic. How can I think His word isn't enough? I mean... It's His word. Hmmm, what has my Bible teacher called it for years? A love letter. Yes, a love letter. How could I possibly brush that aside as though it is not sufficient to fill the void? How was it possible that I was able to gather my deepest breaths and encouragement from a breathtaking sunset or that gorgeous fall breeze enveloping me on my way to the car after school? Could I really be hearing His voice at night, when I lay awake... achy, longing... and listening to the steady beat of my own heart?

The more I learned to embrace the questions, the more I began to sink into them... the more I saw His love for me all throughout my day. A tight hug from a friend. flowers from another. A well-timed text message from my second mom. Packages waiting for me in my mailbox. 

The first Mumford and Sons Album. The entire thing. 

Daisies. 

Clean sheets. 

Soon, if I let them, these little blessings left me breathless with His love for me. 

Then I started to take stock of the way my heart responds to people. to relationships. and I realized that all I really wanted was for people to be real with me. I didn't care if it was messy, or hard, or confusing. Being real and genuine is always, always beautiful. 

Earlier this week, as I sat in a coffee shop with a friend, I began to talk my way through this very same thing again. I found myself echoing those same words I did several years ago. She holds my words so carefully, claiming what is good and throwing out what is unnecessary. When I'm finished talking, she smiles. 

"You know, Lyss, I completely understand. I'm finding that right now, God is just being so faithful to place me around people that I can't scare away. He knows I need people in my life who have been broken and confused, but still love Jesus. Because right now, I don't have any pretending left in me. I can't do anything else but choose to be real." 

um. whoa. 

I've said it before, and I'll say it again: it's so refreshing, so freeing, to know. and be known. I don't have to trip over myself in order to say the right things or know the right verses. I don't have to meticulously hope that my argument can stand on its own, or try to prove that I'm worthy. 

I can just sit in the questions. I can sit in the mess for a while and know that He's here. holding my hand. 

and you know what else? I'm realizing that the Alyssa who spent hours and hours reading the Bible my Bible my senior year is completely different than the Alyssa I am today. I still read the Bible, though not as a check off of my to-do list. I don't have an emotional need to be right all the time. I refuse to be less than who am I called to be. I am slowly watching Jesus transform lies into truth. 

But this is the best part: Instead of falling in love with the words written on paper, I'm weak in the knees because Jesus Himself is pursuing me. and every single day, I fall more and more in love. I'm madly in love with Jesus, whose feet are dirty from running hard and fast after my dusty broken heart. I'm passionately in love with Jesus, whose arms are strong from holding me perfectly afloat when nothing else in the world made sense except His quiet answer to my desperate plea for help. 

Here I am, Alyssa. Oh, how many times He has so gently, patiently whispered this against the shaking of my soul. 

and now, boldness and strength have been spoken over me. grace has been spoken over me. 

... and I'm able to say "I know, Jesus. I love you. Thank you." 

He's here. He's there. 

He's everywhere. 

I promise. 

You are loved,

Lyss

In which I write to a stranger.

“We desire to possess a beauty that is worth pursuing, worth fighting for, a beauty that is core to who we truly are. We want beauty that can be seen; beauty that can be felt; beauty that affects others; a beauty all our own to unveil.” Captivating, John and Stasi Eldredge

I have this odd love for strangers. I wish I could explain it well. I don't necessarily like to talk to them, or let them know that I love them. I just love them from afar. I pray for them, sometimes really specifically. 

And today, I feel like I'm supposed to write to one of them. I don't know her name. I don't know how old she is, though I would guess maybe seventeen or eighteen. I don't know who she is. 

... and she will most likely never read this. 

And I'm okay with that. There's just some things she needs to hear. and maybe I need to hear them, too.

Sweet girl, 

I don't know if you meant to weep that loudly or not. I'm not sure if the sobs racking your body were completely unexpected or if your soul just knew it was time to pull back the curtain on your pain- time to expose what the mirror has done. time to expose the lies it has so cunningly whispered into your ear. time to acknowledge that it has limited you and attempted to define you... yet it's done a really poor job. 

I so connected with your feelings I was ready to barge in that dressing room at TJ Maxx and take your face into my hands like you were my own sister and give those lies inside your brain a piece of my mind. I wanted to. Bad. 

Because I've been there. I'm still there sometimes. The stores, the mirrors, the numbers. Feelings of failure and inferiority. Lies. 

The enemy had a field day with me. 

But if I have anything to say about it, he won't get to you. 

I just want to pass you a note and tell you that you're so lovely.

Oh my goodness, that hair. It's the most perfect shade of red. Honestly. There are women all over the country that spend oodles and oodles of money to get their locks colored the way that God chose to artfully hue yours. 

Your gorgeous green eyes carry so much life. Whatever you are passionate about, whatever is giving you that spark, keep chasing it. It's worth it. Even through tears, I know you are strong. and powerful. 

You are beautiful. I watched you try on so many things and just get discouraged. and it was breaking my heart. You know why? Because you couldn't see how stunning you looked in so many different colors. You were created to be this incredible canvas. Display His glory confidently, friend. 

I don't even know if this is making sense to you. and I'm sure you're conjuring up a million and one rebuttals for me. But can I tell you a secret? 

The enemy is lying to you in those dressing rooms. and he's messing with your image and your heart and your brain. Do you know why? Because he's really afraid. 

He's afraid of what will happen if you step out in your beauty. He's afraid of what will become of his treachery if it becomes exposed by God's magnificent glory inside of you. 

He knows that men and women who know who they are and who they belong to are powerful. unstoppable. untouchable. 

I'm praying for you tonight, sweet stranger. I'm praying that you and I would take off those smocks of lies that we've been sporting for so long... and exchange them for the most breathtaking robes of strength and dignity. 

You carry a beauty that is worth pursuing, worth fighting for; a beauty that is core to who you truly are. Your beauty is seen. Your beauty is felt. Your beauty affects others. and your beauty is all yours to unveil. 

Claim that. Come out of that dressing room with confidence, precious girl. Offer your beauty to the world. 

You are loved, stranger. 

~Lyss

Chit Chat and Cheerleaders.

Last Saturday was a no good, awful, stressful, hurtful, hard day. All the way around. 

Until around 8:30 pm. 

I've talked a lot about my friends on this blog. There's Caitlin who got married this summer and Emma the photographer. There's Kaylin from junior high youth group and Lauren from my high school theatre days. I love them. 

There are some new (ish) little loves in my life. Cait and Soph. 

They are best friends. Cheerleaders. Dreamers. Brunettes. Teenagers. 

They love Jesus. They love people. They love them well. 

At 16 and 17 years old, they are passionate. they are kind. they are loyal. they are honest. they are growing. they are learning. 

Seven days ago, these two gems snagged me from the impending sadness and drove. I was blindfolded. 

They drove to the top of the world- my favorite place in my hometown. Some of my sweetest memories with friends and Jesus are there. It carries a special place in my heart. 

They took my blindfold off, climbed in the backseat and the three of us just watched our city. We watched the hustle and bustle of tiny cars and saw the twinkle of the lights. 

And then the words started. and for the next two hours, my heart was filled to the brim with encouragement, with hope, with truth. Those two sat next to me and somehow came up with enough loving words to fill almost 120 minutes. that's insane to me. I'm overwhelmed just thinking about it. 

We finished off the night praising Jesus together. He was beaming with joy. I know it. 

I've been thinking over the last week about what to say about this night. How to capture it. How to express my thankfulness for these two and praise Jesus for creating friendship and the ability to be authentic. 

I remember being 16. and 17 too, for that matter. It really wasn't all that long ago. I know that sometimes to reach the heart and mind of a teenager, you have to swim and smile through small talk, connect on insignificant issues, and feel our way through the pleasantries. 

But here's the deal: At times, I feel a strong revulsion to chit chat. Give me a girl who wants to sit and dig through the trenches and I'll stay up all night. Put me at a dinner with a group of small talkers, and I'll take my food to go. 

Not really. 

I don't take my food to go, because I like people. I love people, actually. And I'm pretty good at the small talk most of the time. 

Sometimes, I feel like my life is one long incessant session of small talk. and it starts to drain the life out of me. 

Small talk isn't bad or wrong, by any means! It just isn't my favorite. And the feeling I get when the small talk outweighs the real talk is similar to the feeling I get when I don't sit down and think about my intention, my longing, my desire. 

Consistently, throughout the Bible, Jesus asks, "What do you want me to do for you?" It wasn't a trick question and it cut right through every ounce of small talk. He looked straight into their eyes and asked them. "What is your desire?"

I have found it next to impossible to answer questions about where my heart is at when my soul is shaking at the edges from too much activity, too many voices. 

I am learning to quiet the critical voice and search out the secret place. I'm listening for the mysteries and the knowledge and the hope. 

... and I don't have to be afraid of what He reveals to me. What Jesus places within me, He wants to pour out of me. Not just for my benefit, but for yours, too. 

I long for the beauty and substance that comes with walking life with someone. Being in their presence, hearing their voice, hugging them close. I long for spacious conversation. I long for authenticity and honesty. I long for these things, even though it might be less convenient. Even though it might be less efficient. Even though it might hurt. 

... and then I realized something. 

Sweet Caitlin and Sophie... they knew that. 

and they did something about it. 

I have a deep desire to listen and understand what goes on behind the masks that people wear. I write and speak about vulnerability and authenticity all the time, and sometimes I'm still terrified to have people see what goes on behind my own masks. I long to embrace my own smallness, to quiet the competing voices in my head, and to truly listen.

We were made in the secret place. 

... and I think it's time to return there. 

To receive. To remember. To listen. 

Then we get to take all of that, and pour it back out. 

And that's exactly what these sweet girls did. They listened. They saw. They acted. 

What an incredible legacy they are leaving. At 16 and 17. 

Girls, thank you. I love you both. 

Your lives shout Jesus. 

I'm proud of you. 

Love, 

Lyss

Lauren Nicole.

I am a lover of words.

Obviously, this is not new information for most of you :) But I do. I love them. I love how they fit together and create beauty. There's so much life and depth to be discovered in words. I love them. 

But do you know what I love even more??

When someone else is able to communicate EXACTLY where my heart is at fifty billion times better than I ever could. 

Today, I read this: http://laurennicolelove.com/blog/the-new-heart/you-cant/

... and as I bawled my way through the post, my heart knew that it was exactly what I wanted to say today. 

Only Lauren did it beautifully, so I just get to immense privilege of passing it on to you.  

I hope your week is off to a wonderful start. 

Hugs and Love, 

Lyss

... because I still throw temper tantrums.

What happens when you wake up and realize that life is not quite what you imagined it would be? What happens when your deepest dreams and hopes and desires are not coming to fruition and you don't see how they ever will? What happens when you find yourself dealing with a temper tantrum... and it's your own?

Grown-up temper tantrums. They happen. They're probably not be the "throw yourself on the ground kicking and screaming" kind, though sometimes that sounds tempting. No. Grown-up temper tantrums are in a league of their own. They are manifested in all kinds of different ways. Sometimes really subtle ways. The emotional disconnect from loved ones. Checking out of reality. Angry isolation. Tears. 

It can be listening to lies that eventually leak into reality and threaten to skew what is true.

No matter how the tantrum manifests itself, they all speak something along the lines of: "I don't like this. This is NOT what I dreamed about, hoped for, planned out. So change it. Now!!"

I hate starting off my days with a bad attitude. 

... but that's exactly how today began. With a bad attitude, and a discouraged heart. 

I went to my morning class and came immediately home to sit with Jesus. 

And I've come to a conclusion. 

The cure for a temper tantrum: 

Surrender. 

Surrender to the perfect God who breathes stars into place and set the entire world into motion. The entire world. He is in complete control of my little world, too. 

Trust. 

Trust that God has my back and I every single thing I encounter is filtered through His heart of love for me... including difficulties. especially difficulties. 

Praise. 

This is my favorite one. and probably the easiest for me. I have a hard time surrendering. and I have an even harder time trusting. But praising? Praising is speaking, singing, dancing, writing my love for Jesus. I love Him. A lot. and I love telling people I love them. Especially my Father. 

Today, I'm just asking for grace to stay the course, even when it feels like I'm riding the same conflict wheel over and over again like a little hamster. It makes me want to scream. I'm asking for grace to stay the course when my decisions seem to be constantly questioned. I'm asking for grace to stay the course when I'm not really at the beginning and I'm definitely not at the end, but instead I find myself in the middle. Some days, it feels like an awfully long road trip with crappy music and no one in the car to reach the snacks in the backseat. 

My dad loved to take our family on trips when we were really little. My brother and I learned to be content in the car for LONG periods of time as babies. We were just used to it. and we've seen some pretty desolate places. We've been in the "middle of nowhere" more times than I can count. and when you're in the middle of nowhere, you just have to stay the course, trusting that your destination will eventually arrive. There are no pit stops. The road just stretches out unendingly before you and the landscape is engulfing. It seems barren. But I remember, even as a child, being enamored by the "nothingness." There was beauty there. There is beauty there. 

This "staying the course" time... could that be beautiful, too? When the landscape seems barren and desolate... and all I want to do is turn around or go a different way... maybe I should be asking for my eyes to be opened to the beauty to be found here. 

"I will make rivers flow on barren heights, and springs within the valleys. I will turn the desert into pools of water and parched ground into springs. I will put in the desert the cedar and the acacia, the myrtle, and the olive. I will set pines in the wasteland, the fir and the cypress together, so that people may see and know, may consider and understand, that the hand of the Lord has done this, that the Holy One has created it." Isaiah 41:18-19 is incredible. 

Yep. I'm in the middle of nowhere. Maybe you are, too. 

But there's hope. 

Because God's power is that much more majestic and overwhelming when it is showcased against a backdrop of barren and desolate landscape. 

So, I'll stay the course. and continue to fight the fight for total surrender and trust. 

Let's agree together that no matter the landscape, Jesus WILL turn the barrenness into beauty. 

He will, my friends, and it will knock our socks off. 

and when He does, let's rejoice together. 

Love to you, 

Lyss

"Let all that I am wait quietly before God, for my hope is in Him. He alone is my rock and my salvation, my fortress where I will not be shaken. My victory and honor come from God alone. He is my refuge, a rock where no enemy can reach me."

Love and Prenatal Vitamins

I go into Target several times a week. I love Target.

I only bought only one thing today, which is pretty close to a miracle: prenatal vitamins.

NO, I am not pregnant. I am taking a nutrition class for school, and the girls were encouraged to take prenatal vitamins as the only supplement in our diet. Most of the time, I'm a rule follower. So I marched myself over to Target immediately following class and got myself some!

OF COURSE this is the day that I see FOUR people I know in Target. I'm there for a total of seven minutes, and in the course of that seven minutes, I get to talk and explain the meaning behind why on earth I'm buying pregnant pills. (If you are curious, shoot me an email or fb me. I love talking about this kind of stuff!).

Anyway, by the fourth person (who just happened to be a momma I babysit for), I was ready to be done explaining. and this is how the conversation went...

Her: Lyss! Hey! How was your day?
Me: Great! How was yours?
Her: Mine was good, too. What are you getting today?
Me: prenatal vitamins.
Her (with the most concerned look on her face): Well, we love you. and we're here to support you through the whole process.
Me: (laughing) I'm NOT pregnant! Oh man... *launched into really long explanation about why I am taking prenatal vitamins*

Meanwhile, little man is in the cart just watching this all unfold. I gave him a hug after this hilarious exchange and told him I missed him.

He looked at me with those big huge four year old eyes and said, "Lyssa, you know when I'm never going to love you?" (translation: "do you know when I'm going to stop loving you?")

I smiled and said "When?"

With affirming laughter, he yelled, "NEVER! I'm just going to love you, and love you, and love you forever!"

I just about died.

*Can I please pause for a second and just say that I nanny/babysit for the most incredible families. I love watching mommas and daddies encourage their children to love extravagantly.*

Oh, how those simple words brought me SO much joy. They rejuvenated my heart. I scooped him out of the cart for a showering of hugs and kisses on his rosy cheeks, and was bombarded with a reminder of the eternal love that Jesus has for me.... for all of His kids. The hours that He has spent loving me FAR exceed the hours I've lived on earth.

In 20 years, He has demolished walls that imprisoned me, unlocked shackles that crippled me, and tore off the blindfold that concealed light from my eyes. He has equipped me with armor to shield me from the enemy and showered my heart with hope to restrain the doubt.

Every offense I have ever committed (and there's been a LOT of them) has been perfectly blanketed with His forgiveness. Often, I am ungrateful. Yet He still loves me. I have nothing to offer Him that is not already His, but He loves me. He loves me wildly and passionately and consistently.

Do you know when He's "never going to love me?" Never. Never ever.

He's going to love me, and love me, and love me forever.

Nothing fills my heart as full as that beautiful promise.

A trip to Target, a run in with one of my favorite moms and her son, and one bottle of prenatal vitamins later...

and my heart is about ready to burst. God is so kind.

He loves me.

He loves you.

We are loved.

Oh, and kids? They are stinkin amazing.


Love to you,
Lyss

Holes.

I spent a good portion of my life running from hard things.

I lived to keep busy- making sure every little square on the calendar had something to fill it, barely scheduling time to sit and breathe. 

At times, I shopped recklessly and consumed foolishly. I made decisions that seemed worth it at the time just so I could have a little "fun." I exaggerated. I overcompensated. I fought really hard for the things I wanted. And somehow, those things made me a little happier. They temporarily muffled the roar of my empty soul. 

There are still moments and minutes and days where I make these choices. 

We all have holes. and we all have different ways that we attempt to fill them. 

But they exist for each of us. And in the most inconvenient times, in the most inconvenient places, they rise up and try to stake their claim. In relationships. In fears. In doubts. In insecurities. Even in success. 

It's why we need Jesus. It's how we journey together. 

“No matter how different our circumstances may be, we each live and lose and love and cry and work and let go and endure and break down and get back up. It is the universal tie that binds all of us together, and it matters deeply. I know that the fullness of how we love each other as human beings is in our understanding of how similar we really are, and how much we need each other to care. We truly were not meant to take this journey alone.”  ~ Lisa Whittle

Even in the gaps and the crevices, I find great hope. 

The holes are the very place that we can most find God. 

When the church has let us down, our roles seem unappreciated, our choices have threatened to define our lives... wellness, joy, and perfect peace can be breathed into the empty spaces of our life- a rich, full life that isn't about what we do or what we have been taught or what we've lived through. Instead, it becomes about what Jesus has written on the pages of our journey. 

It's about where we have lacked, but He has always been enough. 

It's about where we have fallen, but He has never faltered. 

It's about where we have holes, but He has divinely filled them. 

My story, your story, doesn't end with the holes. With Jesus, the holes are the beginning. 

Because when we are willing to look at the dark, deep, unexposed pieces... we discover truth. 

We find community. We find bravery. We find healing. 

And Jesus, who fills our souls with Himself... makes all things well.

Love to you,

Lyss

Mightier.

Tomorrow at one o'clock, I'm taking a test that will determine the course of the rest of my life.

I will straight-up admit to you that I am a dramatic person. But this time, I'm being completely serious.

I am incredibly stressed. I am overwhelmed. I am discouraged. I even feel physically sick at some points.

But right now, I'm just thankful to be alive and breathing. I have a family. I have a roof over my head, food in the fridge, and fresh water to drink.

Life is fragile.

Life is so, so fragile.

The past few weeks, my heart has been bombarded with grief and sorrow and worry for so many. I'd like to share just a few of them with you today. I would humbly ask that you be in prayer for these situations.

I have several friends who attend Master's College in Southern California. Yesterday, while at the beach with other incoming freshman, a sand pit collapsed around a 20 year old Korean foreign exchange student, and he passed away. My heart is just broken for his family, his friends, his campus.

I went to a cardiology appointment this morning with a dear friend of mine. I'm pretty sure I was more nervous than she was. She is so filled with grace and peace. My heart is just praying and believing that God has a plan no matter the test results.

For the past seven months I worked for a sweet mom who lost her husband to cancer. Two days ago, it had been 365 days since she and her two young children said goodbye.

My little sister has been in and out of doctor's appointments, trying to get a diagnosis for the pain in her body. So far, the doctor's are at a loss. Wisdom and clarity, come quickly!

Fires. There are so many fires. Homes in danger, air quality incredibly poor, and firefighters apart from their sweet families.

I could go on and on about these, and about a dozen others that just hurt my heart. I wish I could fix it all.

I wish I could miraculously rid the world of disease, pain, confusion, and stress.

And tonight, I'm sitting here completely overwhelmed to the point of tears.

I am asking Him to humble me... asking Him to remind my soul of his perfect hand in my life. I feel as though He's tattooing my soul with the words “He is Mightier."

Psalm 93:4 “Mightier than the thunder of the great waters, mightier than the breakers of the sea- the Lord on high is mighty.”

Mightier. 

When exhaustion and despair are thriving, you see yourself at a dead-end, and you are tempted to give up... remember the Red Sea, and venture forth. He is mightier. (Exodus 13:17-15:21)

When you're battling in the midst of a storm, your heart is a sea of turmoil, and your joy, comfort, and hope have been battered and tossed until raw and fragile, remember the Sea of Galilee, and be still. He is mightier. (Mark 4:35-41)

When life slows to what seem to be stagnant, and you are burdened by the absence of direction or momentum, remember the Psalmist’s stream, and find joy in an opportunity to nurture roots and draw strength. He is mightier. (Psalm 1)

If you find yourself blown completely off course, detoured from your intended destination, and are tempted to quickly correct your route, remember Paul’s storm and dare to entertain the thought that THIS is where you are meant to be, and find purpose. He is mightier. (Acts 27)

When you stumble or wander into drought, thirst, and a parched spirit that drains any traces of life inside, remember God’s promise in Isaiah, and watch for “a way in the desert and streams in the wasteland.” Remember, too, the water springing from rock, and know, He can bring forth sustenance from desertion. Take heart. He is mightier. (Isaiah 43:19, Exodus 17:1-5)

If you are searching tirelessly to find redemption, listen to those four beautiful words- “Wash and be cleansed!” Read about Naaman and the Jordan river. Rest deeply in the simplicity of solid truth and the way that is better than all the "extras" our muddied minds imagine are necessary in order to obtain forgiveness. He is mightier. (2 Kings 5)

When the doubt, ridicule, and unkindness of others threatens to waylay you, or tempts you to choose an easier way than the calling before you, remember Noah’s flood. and press on. He is mightier. (Genesis 6-9)

When all seems lost, imagine Mary’s tears as she stood crying outside the empty tomb. Remember the words of a Risen Savior: “Woman, why are you crying?” Remember a perfect Jesus who conquered the most unconquerable thing known to man: death. Remember, and live. He is mightier. (John 20)

He is mightier. 

... I choose peace. Jesus, you are welcome here. 

Love, 

Lyss