Ahab. Hesed.

There is a book. It's called Knowing God by Name. It's written by Mary Kassian, and it has sat on the end table at work for months. Months and months and months. and I stared at its cover week after week, day after day... and I didn't give it much thought.

Until one day I did. I picked up the book, and I began to read through its pages.

And man oh man, it is so so good.

I'm a nineteen year old. A woman. A daughter. A sister. A friend. A nanny.

... and sometimes? I feel invisible.

When I change what seems to be the twelfth diaper in the last hour, and the three year old is screaming for apple juice in the next room, no one is looking. When I tuck the sweet souls into bed and just take a few moments to listen to them breathe, no one watches. Everywhere I go, I'm passed by packs of young women, beautiful young women, and I somehow feel ashamed. Embarrassed in my yoga pants and sweatshirt.

I'm just a part of the crowd. A really small fish in a really big sea.

Really, I mean really. Who desires me?

What could I possibly have to offer? I'm just another teenage girl. Just another nineteen year old struggling to get through work and chores and life... and soon to be school!

What could I possibly have to offer to the church? to the government? to profesors? to leaders? to our culture? to my peers? my family?

It is SO easy to feel dismissed.

Because of age. gender. weight. nationality. values. choices. appearance. The list, I'm sure, could go on and on.

The eyes of the world just slide right over. slip right past. there's not much to offer here. nothing worthy of desire.

By the grace of God and His incredible Sovereignty in all things, He allowed my employer's to buy Mary's book and leave it sitting out on the table. So I picked it up.

and I was introduced to two words: ahab and hesed.

and I have grown to seriously love these words.

When I think about the love of God... which is a lot... my mind naturally dwells on the hesed love. The love that is rooted deeply in God's character. This is a steadfast, loyal, covenant love. This love is kind. It's tender. It's merciful. This love is not dependent on my ability or desire to love back. It's completely unconditional. It is constant.

This love is faithful.

Though the mountains be shaken and the hills be removed, yet my unfailing love for you will not be shaken nor my covenant of peace be removed," says the LORD, who has compassion on you.
Isaiah 54:10.

This love? It's huge, colossal even, in my life. When the mountains are high and the tide rushes in, this hesed love, in it's very nature... has held me steadfast and firm. It's foundational. Steady. It's love that is perfectly faithful when I prove to be nothing but.

God is love. He will always be love. It's the air I breathe, the truth I rest in.

However, my nature is to question. to doubt. to deny.

Well... wait a minute, God. If you love everyone, then why is that special? By nature, you are perfect. You have no other way to love. It has to be a faithful, unending love. Because You're God. 

I know that with a sinful nature, it's so easy to grumble and complain in the mundane. It's so easy to watch my heart, my eyes, my ears... become insensitive to the deep rooted love that lies beneath the chores and to-do lists.

THAT is precisely why I LOVE another word for the love of God. It's used in the Old Testament often.

Ahab.

Delight, desire, inclination.

Ahab.

Tonight, my prayer is that my worth would not be found in places other than the heart of God. That the opinions, desires, and attention of others would not be grounds for my identity. I love this truth. The truth that God desires me. and He loves me with that desire. He is inclined towards me. He delights in me.

I read in a commentary (though I don't remember where or I would give adequate credit) that it's like staying married because you know divorce is wrong. You know it's sin. You don't believe in it. You want to protect the kids.
Or staying married because you're wildly, passionately in love with your spouse. You still laugh at each other's lame jokes, and kisses make you weak in the knees.

Ahab.

Relationship. Details. Delight.

Ahab is so perfectly connected to the covenant faithfulness of hesed.

and they carry me. Hesed is my deep rooted foundation, my rock. and ahab. Ahab is the breath. the sweet scent. the refreshing water.

And they're both for me. for you. for us.

I've known the hesed love of God my whole life. I've memorized the verses, and sang the songs.

But I love that I'm slowly learning more and more about His ahab love for me, too.

I am known. I am seen.

The covenant and the desire are walking hand in hand.

I am loved.

Not by anything I have done or will ever do.

Not because God has to love me... or because it's required.

Not just because it's His perfect nature and His beautiful character.

No.

He chose me. I am loved by choice. With incredible desire. and intention. and beauty.

and I'm feeling its abundance tonight.

Ahab. Hesed.

Love.

Alyssa

Have I become Lucy?

"Someday you will be old enough to start reading fairy tales again." ~C.S. Lewis.

My best friend is incredible. I mean, seriously incredible. And one of the things I love most about our friendship is the ability we have to completely disagree, and love just the same. If not more.

This week we discussed some hard God stuff. Topics that our finite minds will never fully be able to grasp on this side of heaven. Topics that are controversial, weighty, and heavy. Topics that I'm sure many Jesus followers have wrestled with, asking for clarity and answers.

Today, I no more have the answers to the questions than I did yesterday. Or even the day before.

But I know one thing for sure: I never, ever want to lose the wonder and awe. I never want to lose that feel of "vastness" when I think on the things of God. God is vast.

A couple of weeks ago, as I sat with sweet three year old Rook on the back porch, we saw a rainbow. I nearly screamed as I saw it against the big canvas of sky.

"Rook, do you see that?! A rainbow!"
"Whoa! I WUVV Wainbows! Wet's go find da pot of gold! Run, run! Come on!" He squealed and jumped and laughed.

So we ran. We ran and ran across the property until we couldn't run anymore.

"It just looks so cwose, Ahissa."

Yes it does, sweetheart. Never did I tell him that the pots of gold don't exist. I never told him that it was all just a fantasy.

"Do fairies exist, Alyssa?" and "Are unicorns real?" "What about dragons- can they really breathe fire?!" Although less for the older kids, I get asked these questions A LOT as a nanny.

Maybe it's my line of work. Maybe it's my heart for kids. Maybe it's the love I have for their big eyes and imaginations. But whatever the reason, I decided a long time ago that children grow up way.too.fast.

They grow up way too fast, and too soon they will be "too old" to be a sparkling princess in a faraway castle, a dragon fighting off the evil master, or a puppy that can fly.

They will pull on the cloak of adult close-mindedness and learn to disengage from all things fantasy. They will accept the role of "I'm-too-old-for-stories" and lose their deep wonder.

As a nanny, as a friend... I don't ever want to be the squasher of the dreams.

I have many times been accused of being the over-indulgent nanny. I'm not strict enough. I allow to much freedom, too much leash. I'm being dishonest by not revealing the truth about fictional characters and tree houses that become caves and castles.

Sometimes, I worry that we've lost our wonder. Believing leads to dreaming, and dreaming leads to creativity and wonder. Seriously, some of the best communicators I know are incredible story-tellers. and you know why they're incredible story-tellers? Well, for lots of reasons. But one of which is this: they believe in the fantastical. Even just a bit. That's enough. It gives a spark.

I love watching children imagine and dream, and cling to the magical stories of dragons and fairies.

I don't ever want to lose the ability to believe and hope in the perfect miracles of a God who does things in a supernatural, Sovereign manner. all for His glory. I don't ever want to lose the creativity, passion, and dreams that God has placed so deep inside my heart.

To do so would be arrogant, prideful, maybe even dangerous.

C.S. Lewis was an incredible man of God and wrote books I have spent hours pouring over, soaking in deep truth and insight. Mere Christianity was a hard read for me. I had to slowly, delicately move through its pages as to not miss anything. And I'm sure I could read it five times more and still not have depleted its sustenance.

But you know what else C.S. Lewis wrote? Fantasy. and he was GOOD at it. He weaved readers through a long journey with magic and talking creatures, deceit and glory.

My Dear Lucy,
I wrote this story for you, but when I began it I had not realized that girls grow quicker than books. As a result you are already too old for fairy tales, and by the time it is printed and bound you will be older still. But someday you will be old enough to start reading fairy tales again…

Lewis wrote this regarding The Chronicles of Narnia. He penned this to his granddaughter, and I see both the sadness and hope just in these few sentences.

I read this today and wondered... Have I become Lucy? Have I gotten too old to believe in the wonder of it all? Have I grown so quickly that I left the books lagging behind? Have the kids I've watched grow for years and years grown quicker than their dreams?

Oh man, I hope not.

I still believe in miracles. and the impossible dreams. I believe in a God that is so beyond my comprehension. I believe it's possible.

I don't want to lose my wonder.

The pride of omniscience can so easily attach itself to my name the second I decide I understand it all. Omniscience belongs to God.

I will never be "too old" to learn, to grow, to be in awe.

Reality is good. Necessary.

But so is the beauty in a big imagination and hope for the impossible.

Love to you,
Alyssa

Can you listen to me?

If listening could be a love language, I'm pretty sure that would be mine.

I feel incredibly loved when I know someone is listening.

I'm sure we've all been there... tried to have a conversation with someone that simply CANNOT listen to you fully.

There's the cell phone that chimes with yet another text message, or the computer that never seems to leave the lap... the book that keeps getting glances, or the dishes that just HAVE to be done right.then.

And I'm sure we've all been on the opposite side of that as well. I know I have. The times when I give into the fleshly desire to be selfish, and not give a friend or confidante my undivided attention.

I'm burdened with this today. Maybe it's because as I was hustling around tending to chores around the house last night, sweet Claire grabbed my arm, looked me in the eye and said, "Alyssa, can you listen to me? With your eyes? Please? Just for a second. I just want to ask a question."

With your eyes.

Man. That one little phrase. Major conviction.

But she's right. Listening with my eyes is HUGE.

Or maybe it's because I know what it's like to be silently begging that the phone be put away or the TV be turned off. I know what it's like to feel unworthy of undivided attention because scrolling through FB must be more interesting than anything I have to say. Right?

There is something really beautiful that happens when the agenda is set aside for a few minutes and a listening ear is lent. It's like a refreshing exchange of understanding. Understanding that people are much more important than the recipe that was just pinned on Pinterest. Understanding that friendships, marriages, and relationships grow in part by the ability to just listen.

But more than just listening with ears.

It happens when we listen with our eyes. With our hearts.

My hope and prayer today is this: that listening would go beyond my ears. That listening with just my ears would be the exception to the norm. That my life would be characterized by a heart that cares, that loves... that listens.

A big thank you to those of you who listen with your whole body. When you are engaged and interested, I am encouraged immensely. Love is emanating through your selfless choice to listen.

Love to you,
Alyssa

Untied.

It was quiet in the house.

The dishwasher was loaded, and the heat turned back up... the tea pot filled and ready for its evening whistle and pour.

It had been a while since I just sat. in stillness. With nothing but melody and my own thoughts. So I sat. My orphaned soda sat on the table and the ice began to make the glass sweat. I just pulled my knees up into my chest and let my head rest for a moment.

I'm not sure where it came from. But I could feel it. That lump in my throat, the bubbling over of emotion.

The moment surfaced when Kim Walker sank her worshipful hooks into my skin and pulled out every ounce of emotion stored up over the course of the last season. The last season of learning to push aside, the last season of too busy, not enough time, being strong in the face of defeat.

My heart flowed through the tears, and I stretched out my weathered hands in abandonment, giving over the burdens that life had suddenly packed onto my back.

It feels good. It feels good to just FEEL.

We're so busy. We bustle around. Family. Friends. Work. School. Church. Responsibilities and deadlines.

Honestly, I sometimes wonder if we subconsciously pack our days SO full of other stuff in order to push aside the unpacking of what we've buried.

I am an emotional person. But I try to keep it all in check.

I didn't do that yesterday. There was so much freedom, my emotion completely untied from its restraints.

I've been told for years that emotion is dangerous. I grew up believing that emotions could not be trusted. They were deceiving and full of trickery. Nothing about emotion was real or lasting.

I was pointed to Jeremiah 17:9. "The heart is deceitful above all things and beyond cure. Who can understand it?" The verse rings loud in my ears. and I don't disagree. If we relied only on emotion for direction, we'd most likely be in all kinds of trouble we never saw coming.

It's one thing to allow emotion to govern your life.

It's another thing to deny the value of emotion altogether.

I am made in the image of God, and I am emotional.

I wish that we'd stop telling ourselves otherwise, and just feel.

Love to you,
Alyssa

Tender Hearts and a Ten Year Old.

The alarm blares, and I peek out the window. The sun was going to make an appearance today. It's a day to be grateful.

I love driving to the outskirts of town to see a dear friend of mine, simply because of the drive time. Half hour each way to just think. The first five minutes today, I just sat in the beautiful quiet, soaking in the absence of noise.

Then I started making the lists. Ya know, of all the things that need to get taken care of.

Feed the tortoise, buy more lotion, finish addressing the envelopes.

But then, somewhere in the middle of the list, my mind just started to drift. To the ones in life who suffer. The young mom with chronic pain, the daughter in ICU, the fallen soldier's wife and kids, the unemployed dad. The list goes on. In this fast-whirling stage of my life, somehow driving has become my favorite place to cry out.

My favorite little man Nathan and I are close. Closer than your average nineteen and ten year old. I've marveled at this several times, wondering why him? Out of all the kids I have watched over the years, why is there such a special bond between the two of us?

The answer can't be boiled down to a sentence, that's for sure. But I'm beginning to see that a huge part of it is the similarity in our hearts. Nathan carries empathy, drive, and passion. I get that. It makes sense to me. Because my heart is wired the exact same way.

On several occasions, we have walked through the grocery store, or been seated at a restaurant, when Nate will lock eyes with me and whisper, "did you see that? That boy is in a wheelchair and he looks like YOUR age. I wonder if he wishes he could play sports" or, "sometimes I think about kids who can't eat ice cream like this and I just want to go and bring them some."

Just this week, I watched a man who struggled his way through Target, each step a heaved effort. I watched a mom burst into tears in the middle of the river trail, her kids in the stroller unsure how to respond.

For me, it's so so easy to be aware of pain. So much so that I can't contain it. Then I'M the one who draws the attention, tears surfacing at the most inopportune time, embarrassing and unstoppable.

I complain about it often. Jesus, why am I so emotional? Why am I so empathetic? Did that flash mob on YouTube seriously just make me cry like a total baby?

And every time, Jesus responds the same way. I created you that way, Daughter. I love you that way, Alyssa.

Could it be that sometimes I confuse a sad nature with the nature of the Spirit to bear the burdens of others with honor? Could it be that I was anointed this way at my new birth, to find the yoke, get beneath it, and hand it over to Jesus? With Him, the burden is light, but He never said it would be non-existent.

He never said this world wasn’t as delicate as breath, fragile and fleeting. He never said "follow me, and you won’t feel a thing". The heart is tender.

I am thankful for bold, for confident, for steadfast and stable.

But I'm also thankful for sensitive, tender, kind-hearted and compassionate.

... and I'm even more thankful that each of those can all fit together in the most beautiful way.

I'm praying that He let my love be tender like His, my perfectly crafted heart centered in His calm Creator hands.

and I'm praying that for Nathan, too.

You and I are perfectly created.

And loved. Deeply loved.

~Lyss