wednesdays

Wednesdays are dear to me. A lot of good comes to my heart every single Wednesday. I am immeasurably grateful for that. It starts for me when I get to Kellie’s house to pick her up. She started going with me to BSF this year. I didn’t think it could get any better for me until she started coming along. 

We get to stand together and sing old hymns to affirm our faith. And we sit together during the lecture, while we feverishly write notes as Barbara speaks truth and wisdom straight from God’s Word into our hearts. Then we walk out together talking excitedly about the lecture and the discussion and the upcoming lesson. We visit with friends, some new and some women we grew up with teaching us Sunday School as little kids. I take her back to her house and hang out for a bit before I head over to my in-laws house where I meet Andrew for lunch. We hang out and eat and I steal a couple of kisses mid work day before he’s on his way. 

Then Maddie Bell and I hang out on the front lawn under the shade of a big tree and I dive into my BSF lesson for the week. On some Wednesdays I will go and pick Stacey up from school and catch up with her for a bit. And the day is positively perfect to me.

I literally feel as though I am grieving over losing it. We move in a month. I only have one more BSF Wednesday left. One. And it hurts my heart enough to bring tears brimming to the surface every single time I think about it. And depending on where I am when I think about it, I’ll allow them to brim up and over and I get lost in my grief because it’s that kind of heavy. I need to feel it to move on from it. And I know it’s just the beginning of the process.

I know I will still go to BSF. I will still get the same lessons and be in the Word and doing the same study Kellie and many friends are doing in Miami. And I am blessed to have a friend attending the BSF in Orlando. I won’t be alone and I know I’ll make friends. It’s just that the Wednesdays here are so special. And the Wednesdays there will just be different.

I am so grateful for the sweetness of my current Wednesdays. I am so glad I got to have them. I’ll always treasure them and the people I got to share them with.

BSF edition

This blog post covers numbers 150.-159. on my way to counting up to One Thousand Gifts.

I have committed to posting the things that I am thankful for and sharing them here with a community of bloggers. Usually I literally copy the list from my journal onto a post, but this week I am going to have to devote an entire post to BSF because my heart simply cannot contain all the gratitude and joy from my experience within a list. So much can be said about what BSF has meant to me so I will do my best to organize my thoughts here. Whenever I doubt my decision not to teach this year and stay home I think of BSF and my doubts vanish. The Wednesday mornings from this last September until this May were meant to be spent at BSF for me; in a classroom that did not belong to me.

The ladies at BSF and my discussion group:

The ladies in my discussion group were such beautiful encouragers to me. Most of them probably have no idea I feel that way. I have always been a talker, a person who wears their heart on their sleeve and just might share too much. But this year in my group I found myself to be so quiet. God was prompting this silence for my heart. I needed to listen more this year than share. So I did. Most weeks I may have said one thing here or there, but for the most part I sat and listened and soaked it all in. The wisdom, passion, sorrow, struggle, faith, and humility of these women were the water for my soul and they allowed me to grow.

Each week I sat in a sanctuary with 400+ women and surveyed the room with awe and wonder. Here we all were because we shared the same longing. We were desperate to know more of our Lord and His Word and we felt and knew that Wednesday mornings were hallowed ground for our travel weary hearts. We came together, a sisterhood, who may not have recognized one another's faces, but who recognized one another's heart hunger. That is something so sweet and so dear to me. A room of 400+ women, who sing praises and promises together on Wednesday mornings in preparation for an eternity when we will all come together and do it again.

The Children's Program:

I don't have children of my own yet, but I cannot sing the praises of the children's program at BSF enough! I volunteered in the kids classes and witnessed first-hand how incredible the teaching of these tender hearts is at BSF. I loved watching the teachers share the stories, lead discussions, pray for and with the kids, and sing songs. There is nothing more precious than a toddler talking excitedly about Jesus! I also have the privilege of calling a BSF mom, friend, and she shared story after story of the things her kids were learning, discussing, and applying to their lives at the ripe old age of 2 and 3. I am excited and hopeful that I will be a mom someday, and when that day comes I will be so eager to bring them with me to BSF.

Please visit my friend's blog and read her account of what the children's program has meant to her and her family. You will be blessed!

My wonderful leader and Barbara:

The leadership at BSF has ministered to my heart in a way that will leave a lasting impact. I have been encouraged, challenged, humbled, and inspired by them. My discussion leader was a constant source of encouragement to me. She always had words of wisdom and a story to share that helped us relate to one another. I looked forward to her calls each week, and was always so disappointed when I missed them. Her peace and calm spoke volumes to me. She taught me so much.

Then there are the teaching leaders who lecture each Wednesday morning. They are incredible women of faith whose insights and gift for communication blessed me so much each week. I wish every woman in the area would come to experience the lecture for yourself. You will feel as though you've gained a friend who is speaking right into your life wherever you're at.  

Friendships that have blossomed:

BSF has been a blessing in the friend department, too. God brought some seriously sweet friends into my life through this year's study. I, like the Israelites in the desert with Moses, was grumbling and heart heavy because I did not have what I felt like I needed. And though He did not have to, He sent me manna straight from Heaven in the form of beautiful encouragers. I longed for deeper friendships. I longed for real conversations. I longed to talk about and hear about the moving and changing God was doing in another woman's life. Those are my favorite type of conversations and I had gone so long without. But that all changed this year when God brought me to BSF and gifted me with one friend who manages to look like the cover of an Anthro catalogue while chasing 3 under the age of 4 with grace and another friend who's smile and joy makes her more beautiful and radiant with each coffee date. I am blessed to call them my friends! 

God's Word and His character:

The most valuable gain through BSF was spending so much time each week really delving into the Word. Isaiah is an incredible book and I learned so much. I learned some history. I learned how faithful God has always been. I've learned about who He is in greater depth and I find that I love Him more now than ever before. I have more faith and trust in Him than ever before. I have a greater peace in seeing the evidences of His sovereignty and His great love throughout the book of Isaiah because I know that He is the same yesterday, today, and forever more. Words cannot adequately express how sweet it is has been to camp out in the book of Isaiah and hear God whisper right into my soul.

my worth

This year I have been doing an in depth study of the book of Isaiah. It's been challenging! I have learned so much and there are weeks when I can hardly process all that's coming at me through God's Word because it's so deep and so rich.

Last week's lesson has just really stuck with me this week.

I grew up going to Sunday school. As a little girl I hung on every word the church ladies spoke on Jesus. I had a serious fascination with Him and I knew that He had done something huge to prove He loved me. I remember going up to the front of the church when I was 8 years old to declare my association with Him. I couldn't get there fast enough; I was so excited.

But with time came new priorities and a busy schedule. Despite His love for me, my love for Him dimmed and became less apparent. Less exciting. 

This week I can't stop thinking about and reading through Isaiah 52:13-53:12.

Jesus is Amazing.

At BSF, the lecturer put it this way..."He accomplished redemption and He is satisfied in His success. He is satisfied because we are justified before the Father. Jesus, satisfied Servant and exalted King, considered justifying sinners worth the suffering He endured on the cross."

The word "worth" has been emblazoned at the forefront of my thoughts all week. Worth.

The horrors He went through were worth it because it meant He could save me. He could keep me.

How often do I thank Him for enduring so much because He valued me more?

Try this out: Read Isaiah 53:4-6 and insert your name in the blanks like this...

Surely He took up Shannon's pain

and bore her suffering,

yet she considered Him punished by God,

stricken by Him, and afflicted.

 But He was pierced for Shannon's transgressions,

He was crushed for Shannon's iniquities;

the punishment that brought her peace was on Him,

and by His wounds Shannon is healed.

 Shannon, like a lamb, has gone astray,

she has turned to her own way;

and the LORD has laid on Him

the iniquity of Shannon.

This is an important passage. There is more in that paragraph than there is in any book on this green earth. And unpacking it, applying it, and appreciating it will take a lifetime. A lifetime well spent.

"the terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day(s)"

This last week or so has just been “one of those weeks.” Nothing seems to go smoothly. You know what I’m talking about. All of the cookbooks fall over when you reach for one on the top of the fridge…again. The pickle jar is sealed so tight you can’t open it and you’re home alone. You play phone tag with the 15 people you are trying to talk to or make an appointment with or get information from. You realize the one thing you really want to wear is at the bottom of the hamper and no amount of perfume and Downy Wrinkle release is going to make it presentable. You have a headache…again. You are missing an ingredient for the recipe you were planning on making for dinner. You’re running late…again. You’re hair is being difficult and won’t go up the way you want it to no matter how many times you try beating it into submission. One of those weeks.



And those are just some of the things that got to me this week and those things don’t even matter. My heart was in that state these last several days. It felt knocked down, closed off, alone, all over the place, disheveled and forgotten, hurt, forgetful, always one step away from a breakthrough, and defiant . I was upset with some of my circumstances. I was disappointed in the way I had handled some things. My feelings got hurt and I was rehashing things from the past. I had dropped the ball and had not met some goals. I felt like I was going backwards. I felt like there was too much on my plate and I just wanted to have it easy…for once. I was feeling downright defeated.


Then I did the stupidest thing ever. I didn’t pray. I didn’t read my Bible. I didn’t seek His face.


And I stayed down.


Defeated.


Then Wednesday morning came and it was time to go to BSF. I was running late…because of my hair. I also had not done my lesson for the second time ever and was not excited about going to the discussion without having done my lesson. Did I mention I had a headache? So we all meet in the sanctuary to sing a few hymns and pray before we go into our discussion groups and the songs begin lifting my spirits and the state of my heart a bit even though I missed most of them. (I am sure the woman standing behind me looked upon the state of my hair, understood why I was rushing in mid-hymn, and immediately felt sorry for me.) Then we were dismissed and I go to class. And as always, the energetic passion these women have for Jesus and the way God restores things throughout history and our little lives begins to resonate in me. My heart began to open up and I felt camaraderie with them all as I sat and listened to the things they shared. My heart began to focus as verse after verse was read and I was reminded that the God who I love and who claims me as His own was not done fixing me up and that He always remembered me. And as I allowed my heart to remember and the healing to wash over me I felt like I was coming back to the place I had been just a couple of weeks ago when I was allowing God to really work on my heart and break through some tough stuff. I sat there and wondered why on earth I would ever have a defiant spirit toward a God so tender, so loving, and so wise.


Has my week gotten any better? Honestly? Not really. The pickle jar is still too tight and my hair is still defiant, but my heart is in a much better place so I can handle it a bit better. Things won’t always go my way, whether it be recipes or circumstances. But I’m learning that a hurting, seeking heart in the hands of the Father is much more pliable and resilient than a hurting, defiant heart left to itself.

home is where your heart is

If you know me well at all, then you know that I talk about the 407 as if it is the Promised Land. Although I grew up in Miami, the six years I lived in Orlando were enough for me to make it and call it home. When I left Miami I didn’t look back and I had no intention of returning. Then I found out that I would have to move back because of Andrew’s job. I was not happy about it. I came back here with my heels firmly dug and dragging in the dirt. I held onto my 407 area code as if it would save me from my reality, and the day I had it switched to 305 I went into mourning. Would I ever get back home? Was this really it?


Miami is so not me. I am not flashy. I am not designer. I am not artsy or well cultured. I am not rich. I do not have the body it takes to walk around in Spandex as if it were considered an acceptable outfit. I do not speak Spanish. I am not of Latin decent. I do not have a fancy car. I do not desire to have a night life. I don’t party. I do not know how to dress the part, act the part, and speak the part of a Miamian.

I need community. I long to have friends that are willing to be vulnerable and real. I need a church where the Gospel is preached and not diluted. I want to live in a neighborhood where the neighbors actually speak to each other. I want good schools for my future children. I want to be surrounded by people, who for the most part, are nice and considerate of others. I want to live in a quieter place where the mantra of me me me isn’t heard in the buzz and the go go go of the city.

So for a really long time I lived here in Miami, but I only loved Orlando. I wouldn’t even think about giving Miami a chance. I thought about Miami as a very temporary place for me to lay all my stuff down for awhile. I had written it off and was just looking forward to the day when I could pack up all my stuff and finally take it home. I didn’t think that all the things I “needed” to consider a place home could be found here. So I never looked.

I am an extremely relational person. Andrew will tell you that the first time I meet practically anyone, I am making plans to become the very best of friends with them or thinking of ways that I can help them and he has to bring me back to reality and remind me that it isn’t always best or possible to be great friends with everyone we meet. Miami people tend not to be relational at all. So I whined and complained and cried about how much I needed a kindred spirit. I had never had a season in life in which I did not have a best friend close by and I did not know what to do with myself!

So I got desperate. I finally turned to the God who claimed me long ago for comfort and for friendship. I am stubborn so this complete and not just partial reliance on Him to fill this void in my heart only took 3 years or so. I began spending more time in prayer seeking His presence and asking Him to change my heart so that I could love others through His eyes. I sought His Word more, like I did in the old days, and it calmed my heart. I still thought about Orlando, but I didn’t feel panic for not being back there yet. And then the strangest things began to happen. I found a kindred spirit right here in Miami. I began to appreciate and love my church. I found community. I started seeing what a gorgeous city Miami is and how much it has to offer.

God is sweet, good, and faithful like that. Psalm 37:4 says, “take delight in the Lord, and He will give you the desires of your heart.” Please don’t misunderstand what I am saying here. God is not a genie in a bottle. He did not give me what I wanted because I did something right. I sought Him out. I let go of my wants and realized that He needed to come first and that I needed to change my heart and the only way I could do it would be through prayer and reading His Word. Yes, He did give me the friend I had longed for, but I wouldn’t have made that friend if it wasn’t for going to BSF to study His Word. Yes, He gave me a great church and community, but I didn’t see what I had in them until I began to seek Him out in the matter. He gives us the desires of our hearts. He realigns our hearts. When we seek Him we gain new perspective and we learn that home is where He sends us and has us right now.