What Anne of Green Gables and John Both Taught Me

I've read Anne of Green Gables a couple times.

All right. A lot of times.

Okay. Fine. I've read every single Anne book. All eight of them. At least eight times apiece. I'm not even kidding. It's probably been more than that...

All that to say, I can quote them, I could perform a dramatic reading, and I have cried every single time I get to certain chapters.

There's one chapter, in Anne of the Island which has always stuck in my mind. It's the one chapter that makes me cry every time. I even know that it's coming (obviously), and I mentally prep myself, "I am not going to cry. This is fiction. I will not cry."

And then I turn into a blubbering mess and cry my eyes out.

In this chapter, Anne goes to visit one of her life-long friends, Ruby, who is dying. The friend is in staunch denial of her imminent death, until one, perfect, moonlit night, she turns to Anne and in tears breaks down, terrified of death. And the reason? She says heaven is "not what I'm used to."

Montgomery then writes: “All that Ruby said was so horribly true, she was leaving everything she cared for. She had laid up her treasures on earth only. She had lived solely for the little things of life, the things that pass, forgetting the great things that go onward into eternity bridging the gulf between the two lives and making of death a mere passing of one dwelling to the other. From twilight to unclouded day. ...it was no wonder her soul clung in blind helplessness to the only things she knew and loved.” 

This passage haunts me.

What if my life is so incredibly full of stuff that I will be "unused to" the things of heaven. It will still be heaven. It will still be eternal glory with God. But will it taste as sweet if I have not stored up a delight for the things of eternity.

And one early morning, as I was stumbling with bleary eyes through the book of I John, I read the following,

"And now, little children, abide in him, so that when he appears we may have confidence and not shrink from him in shame at his coming." (I John 2:28)

And it clicked.

The reason this literary passage always moved me to tears. was because it was rooted in truth. The Bible confirms it (much more succinctly and authoritatively than L.M.Montgomery ever could).

By daily running to God, by daily dwelling, standing, living, lingering, remaining, and accepting who my God is, I'm not just gathering joy here on earth, I'm dressing my soul for heaven. I'm increasing my delight at his coming. I'm erasing the possible fear and shame his coming might bring. So I agree with my fictional heroine and say: "When she came to the end of one life it must not be to face the next with the shrinking terror of something wholly different--something for which accustomed thought and ideal and aspiration had unfitted her. The little things of life, sweet and excellent in their place, must not be the things lived for; the highest must be sought and followed; the life of heaven must begin here on earth.”

Because this is just a blink.

Heaven is a glorious forever.

God's Work Through Grime

There's a potty chair bleaching in the sink in my laundry room. My leggings I am wearing just busted a hole. They chose to do this right in the part of my inner thigh that I was already uncomfortable about. I just cleaned out my bathroom cabinet, painfully aware of how many beauty products I haven't touched in days. Okay... weeks. Fine. MONTHS.

We own 7 sippy cups. They are all dirty. I only have two children. My youngest has latched onto her first "purse" and I've caught her delightedly stuffing it full of pepperoni and clementines. This "purse" is also the pocket on her bib. I'm not sure she's eaten a full meal all day. But her "purse" is well-stocked.

The piles of dirty laundry are taller than me. I'm not sure how this happened. I had a system. A SYSTEM.

I planned a delightful eggplant French concoction for supper. We ate pizza.

My body aches all over. I'm tired. I have three foreign substances on my shoulder alone. I'm pretty sure at least one of them is salmon alfredo sauce from lunch... the others, I'm not sure.

I ate a yogurt parfait for breakfast. Hard boiled eggs for snack. A delicious salad for lunch. AND THE ENTIRE REFRIGERATOR AS SOON AS MY CHILDREN WERE IN BED FOR THEIR NAPS.

Here's the deal... everyone's always talking about being "real."

This is the real me.

I smell like old salmon, I have crusty bits all over me. My hair is frizzing up and breaking off, and I'm growing a zit the size of Montana on my chin. Today, my children were not exactly angelic. And I'm calling my housekeeping successful because the house is still standing. I'm exhausted, bloated, ugly, and wearing busted leggings. And we're out of chocolate. Because I inhaled it.

This is the real me.

And you would think I would be crazy depressed.

Honestly, if you saw me right now, I might induce depression. I wouldn't blame you for sobbing tears of horror/pity/gratitude-that-you're-not-me. I'm a warning poster for all young women/non-mothers. Today, I would make you older women feel like blazing successes. And for my peers? You're looking good, my friends. You're looking good (especially compared to me.... you are welcome).

But I'm not really depressed. I'm tired. I would really like to smell better. And a live-in hairdresser would be lovely, but I'm actually feeling very contented. Yes, even loved.

Don't get me wrong, I'm not happy with how I handled every part of my day. (The spoonfuls of peanut butter and chocolate come to mind...) But I'm not crushed and despairing. I'm just tired.

And a little amazed.

Not only that, but we rejoice in our sufferings, knowing that suffering produces endurance, and endurance produces character, and character produces hope, and hope does not put us to shame, because God's love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit who has been given to us. (Romans 5:3-5)

Let me say it in short sentences. (Those are the only ones I understand right now.)

I've had rough patches.

They built some endurance.

That endurance has kept plugging away in my life, gradually shifting my character.

My character has learned to latch onto God's love for support.

And this gives me hope.

Even on a messy, grimy Monday.

So today, in the whining, tornado-mess that was my life... I am tired. But I am not hopeless.

And now I'm super-psyched because I love seeing the way God is transforming me! Eek! So keep plugging away, sister! Keep dragging that mind back to truth. Keep running to God for help. Keep praying, reading that Bible, and disciplining your time/mouth/thoughts/etc.

Today wasn't a big trial. But after hours of little bumps, I'm still hopeful. Still resting. And pretty excited that God has been gradually transforming me.

That being said, I think I need to go shower...

Another Sunday

You know, right now I am tired. (And so, apparently, is Grantopatomus.)

Sundays are exhausting. 

The babies wouldn't eat their special Sunday banana-chocolate-peanut butter muffins. My shirt was wrinkled. My kitchen looks like a well-intentioned bowling ball tried to make lunch.

Sundays are fun. 

I pounded my way through the worship set today. My son told me that salmon and alfredo pasta was yummy. I was encouraged as I chit-chatted and prayed with my sisters in Christ. 

And in this swirl of exhaustion and fun, I'm reminded why. 

Psalm 116:16-17 O Lord, I am your servant; I am your servant, the son of your maidservant. You have loosed my bonds. I will offer to you the sacrifice of thanksgiving and call on the name of the Lord. 

God is my master. He has the right to ask for my service. Sometimes that's exhausting. 

But he has freed me. So I stand forgiven and thankful. And that is fun. 

Happy Sunday. 

Transluscent Beauty

It was six a.m.

I was barely coherent.

But as I leaned my fuzzy eyesight closer to the mirror, I saw them.

A myriad of channels, working their way across my face, from my eyes down into my cheeks. A preview of what's to come.

Gasping, I smeared lotion on my face and then looked again. They were a little smaller, but they were there.

I've resigned myself (in holier moments) to the deep grooves on my forehead (it's not fun when worry marks itself permanently on your face, even when the sin is long gone), and I had noticed that my healthy eating post-baby hadn't resulted in the quick body-bounce-back that it once would have. But let's be honest, they were just two little worry wrinkles, and I never had what could be labelled a "slammin' bod."

So, I was okay with it.

But for some reason, on this morning, as I looked down at my chipped, blue nail polish, a sink full of beauty products, and the newly constructed "age canals" that were working their way down my cheeks, it hit me.

It's going away.

I never imagined myself a knock-out. But youth was always in my favor. Sure, I may not be gorgeous, but my skin was smooth and my hair grew crazy fast, and my energy levels were through the roof.

That's all leaving.

And while I'm not horribly crushed to see my twenties disappear in the rear-view window, I realized that I'm creeping steadily towards the true test of beauty.

My spirit.

I was warned about this... I'm not supposed to rely on creams and accessories and a fantastic hair-do, I can chase all the fads, the perky cheeks and the perfect body, they're not going to last. The world will tell me beauty satisfies, that each new treatment can return youth, but they're lying. Crazy, big, fat lies.

Charm is deceitful, and beauty is vain,

And even if they could promise eternal youth and beauty, that's not what I'm supposed to be chasing... I'm supposed to be manicuring myself with grace, clothing myself in gentleness, styling a soul of quietness.

And if you think obtaining a perfect coif is tricky, try grooming a soul...

Do not let your adorning be external—the braiding of hair and the putting on of gold jewelry, or the clothing you wear— but let your adorning be the hidden person of the heart with the imperishable beauty of a gentle and quiet spirit

As my outsides breakdown, wear out, and wrinkle up, I have a chance to see what's been going on inside. And God has a way of creating a gorgeous, translucent beauty. There is a beauty that shines through the wrinkles, the tired eyes, and the bigger-than-size-6 body.

It's the beauty of a woman who in God's sight is very precious. 

And just as the beautiful outfit, the manicured hands, and the perfect hair are testaments to the hard work and diligence of their wearer, so the works of the soul will be paraded for all the world to see. Youth covers a multitude of soul flaws. Perhaps this is why God makes us most beautiful when our hearts are least groomed. But as the "beauty" begins to dissipate, the soul is brought to the front.

Now, I'm still slathering on anti-wrinkle cream (and some of you older ladies want to laugh at me for my wrinkle phobias... trust me. I would mock me, too), but I know that the days are drawing me closer to the test of true beauty.

Give her of the fruit of her hands,

    and let her works praise her in the gates.

And when the wrinkles are everywhere, and my body is falling apart, and my grandma-chicken arms are softer than my hair, I want to shine with the translucent, triumphing beauty of a woman who is precious in God's sight.

For the LORD sees not as man sees: man looks on the outward appearance, but the LORD looks on the heart.
{I Samuel 16:7b}

My Sister Is Amazing {and other such sentiments}

During the month of February, Scott and I returned to Lafayette Indiana for the Biblical Counseling Training Conference.

Go to this.

No. Seriously.

It trumps a week on the Florida beaches and it will change your life.

Promise.

Go.

I mean, who doesn't want to hang out in Lafayette, Indiana in the dead of winter?

While we were there, I mooched off of my sister's amazing talent, and we had family pictures taken for the first time in 14 months. If Bets ever complains to you that she's not in the family pictures that are currently hanging around our home, please inform her that she was in those pictures. She was just in my uterus and hadn't made her formal debut into the world. BUT SHE IS IN THE PICTURES.

Okay. Kind of.

I got super-excited because of my radically inventive suggestion of taking the kiddies back to some of the sites where Scott and I had our engagement photos snapped almost exactly four years earlier. (My sister had already thought this. And she also had already come up with some additional cute ideas... so... Basically anything creative in the following shots is because of her amazing genius.)

All that to say, she's incredible. (Seriously: http://www.erikaaileen.com/)

Last time we stood there, we weren't "allowed" to kiss. We made up for that on this day!

I'm fairly confident we will always spend hours in bookstores as a family. We may be single-handedly keeping B&N afloat.

Mr. Grant loves running the aisles.

And Princess Bets is selecting her first journal.

These are the greatest children's books EVER. Hilariously simplified classics as board books. Here we are enjoying "Huckleberry Finn" while Bets lobbies for "Pride and Prejudice." hashtag: raisingthemright.

Precious.

So, Bets was a pickle this entire shoot. She had just come off a twelve hour car ride the day before, and was working her way into a stomach bug. But you would never know all that from these pictures. Seriously, my sister is amazing. Have I said that yet?

I can't believe this is my life. Delightful happiness!

Lil' ham. Loves the camera.

Bets' face. :)

My handsome men!

Exploring hot cocoa!

I don't know... it's like they're used to seeing their parents make out. ;)

Chuggin' the hot cocoa.

Like a man.

Which cracks Daddy up.

Thank you, Er!
The Allisons
2015
Bets {12 months}, Grant {26 months}

At The End of a Fast, The Beginning of A Storm {A Summation of 30 Days of Silence}

Thirty days ago, I decided to stop.

Stop Facebook, Instagram, Pinterest, Netflix, Hulu...

And I did.

And I walked into this self-induced silence, waiting to hear God speak.

And He did.

I can't tell you what that was like. I can try. But I won't be able to. It was like a secret, month-long rendezvous with my Savior.

And it was glorious.

But I also can't tell you how hard this was. Radical amputation hurts. Doing without comfort and ease hurts.

This was a beautiful month.

And (at the risk of boring you with another list!) here's what I'm thinking at the end...

1. My sin is horrible. Deep. Dark. Deceitful. And prolific. And if you clamp down in one area, it likes to squirt out of another. I wasn't flawless at this techy fast. I would sneak the occasional Netflix episode. I had a couple of sick days that drew me to Pinterest. And even when I was perfect on the tech fast, I would find some other way to express my craving for ease... an extra piece of chocolate, a nap, wearing sweatpants for the hundredth day in the row. (Not inherently sinful, but the way I was doing them. Yikes... I was substituting physical comfort for spiritual comfort. Not okay.)

2. I can justify anything. None of the things I abstained from were in and of themselves sinful. I wasn't cheating on my husband, lying to my friends, or neglecting my children. But they sapped a little joy, stole a little time, manipulated a few thoughts... and drew me away from filling my heart and mind with Christ. All the ways I cheated, or chose to sin since I didn't have my typical comfort crutches? They weren't inherently sinful either. They just were not best. But I let them slide.

3. GOD IS UNEXPLORABLE. I feel as though I know more of my Savior and God now than I did a month ago, and the largest thing I know is that I don't know anything. The depths of the riches of our God are unimaginable. We get to spend eternity discovering Him!

3. I didn't miss Facebook. Like, seriously, not at all. I missed Instagram. I missed Pinterest. I missed my daily Netflix dose while folding laundry. I did NOT miss Facebook. At all. I'll probably evaluate whether or not I'll keep it... but... Seriously. Instead of posting a status about the drama, just leave. There isn't even any drama on my Facebook news feed, and I still enjoyed the break.

4. God knew I would need this...

Here's the deal, on the very last day of my fast, our family was hit with some heavy news. We were hurt and wounded. And the repercussions will be around for a while. But God knew that this was coming! He spent an entire month drawing me closer to him, honing the disciplines of mental faithfulness, so that when this news hit my husband, I was able to pray truth with him. And the first place I wanted to run was to God. Not to my tired husband, but to my Savior. And I like to think I helped him run to Christ along with me. I had my God to cling to. I had practiced faithfully turning my mind to truth instead of worry. It was awesome!

I mean, seriously awesome.

No one wants trial and pain, but when it comes (and it will!), and it is met with the sufficiency of the scripture and the power of my God... WOW. IT IS AWESOME.

Like, I'm totally psyched right now. I wish this storm was done, but I am so excited that God is letting me see his character in technicolor right now.

And I wouldn't have been ready for that, without these past 30 days.

I am unbelievably blessed and thankful.