New
New Years call for new goals. New resolutions. New ideas and a newfound hope. Sometimes that means diets and gym memberships. Trading in old habits for new ones in the hopes that the new ones stick. Often people will assign a word to the new year. Setting an intention for what they hope will occur or how they want to change their mindset. Sometimes it's a word that just feels right. And sometimes you pray over it, asking for direction and purposeful intention.
As 2020 neared, I started thinking about setting a word for the year. I'll be honest, 2019 was pretty much the worst year of my life. It was H.A.R.D. HARD. There were things that happened over the last twelve months that shook me to my core and left me beaten and broken, unable to move from the space I had crawled into.
And yet-God was faithful.
In the moments when I watched the sun rise and wondered how it could possibly do so, how the world could keep spinning on that axis when it felt like my world was shattered in razor sharp bits, God showed up. He showed up photos and verses shared on social media. So much so that I started saving them and making collages to remind me of His faithfulness. He showed up in songs on the radio and my morning devotions. He came in the form of friends and family who reached out-often not knowing the full circumstance, just that we were barely hanging on.
You see, I parent kids from hard places. Hard places and trauma manifests itself in a multitude of ways, and mental illness is something that one of my children has struggled with mightily. This summer, that mental illness took over. And it took our lives as we know them with it.
For so many years, we had kept the difficulties of our struggles wrapped tightly to ourselves. Afraid to share what we were living through for fear that we would lose (more) friends, feel like further outcasts for this road of foster adoption that we chose to travel, and lose the tiny tendrils of support that we thought we had.
But in this year of wrecking, we have started to let that go. I reached out more than ever to my core group of mamas who get this. I found myself and my family wrapped in prayers that hit the mark even with minute knowledge of the details.
The Spirit works like that.
I saw my own faith and the faith of my husband grow. Both individually and together. And we started telling our family more about what our life looks like. It has been hard, but it has been worth it.
So it should come as no surprise that I couldn't wait to kiss 2019 goodbye. Peace out, you rotten year.
When I started thinking about setting a word or intention for 2020, I was cautiously hopeful. But then, as He does, He started speaking to me. And I'll be honest, I wasn't real thrilled with the dialogue.
For three days straight I woke up with the same song in my head.
In the crushing, in the pressing, You are making new wine.
Every moment my mind was idle...
In the soil I now surrender, You are breaking new ground.
What-more crushing?
So I yield to You and Your careful hand. When I trust You I don't need to understand.
More pressing? I'm all pressed out, God.
So make me a vessel. Make me an offering. Make me whatever You want me to be.
I came here with nothing, but all you have given me. Jesus bring new wine out of me.
For days I wrestled. Telling God that I couldn't handle any more pressing, any more crushing.
Then He gently laid it on my heart. New.
Yes, this year had crushed and pressed. But it wasn't in vain. The pressure had clamped down to bring forth newness. Restoration. Renewal. I had told him I would go where he wanted me to go. I had sang this song in worship, and He was following through.
Make me a vessel. Make me an offering. Make me whatever You want me to be.
It wasn't a promise that this year was going to be filled with new and exciting things. It wasn't a promise that the hard things would be over and all would be unicorns and rainbows. But it was a promise that even though the pressure seems more than we can bear, beautiful things come from hard labors.
He promises to make all things new.
His promises are never broken.
So 2020. Here's to the newness. Here is to renewal and reminders that He is good. Even when our lives feel less than.
Jesus bring new wine out of me.
All my love,
~M
As 2020 neared, I started thinking about setting a word for the year. I'll be honest, 2019 was pretty much the worst year of my life. It was H.A.R.D. HARD. There were things that happened over the last twelve months that shook me to my core and left me beaten and broken, unable to move from the space I had crawled into.
And yet-God was faithful.
In the moments when I watched the sun rise and wondered how it could possibly do so, how the world could keep spinning on that axis when it felt like my world was shattered in razor sharp bits, God showed up. He showed up photos and verses shared on social media. So much so that I started saving them and making collages to remind me of His faithfulness. He showed up in songs on the radio and my morning devotions. He came in the form of friends and family who reached out-often not knowing the full circumstance, just that we were barely hanging on.
You see, I parent kids from hard places. Hard places and trauma manifests itself in a multitude of ways, and mental illness is something that one of my children has struggled with mightily. This summer, that mental illness took over. And it took our lives as we know them with it.
For so many years, we had kept the difficulties of our struggles wrapped tightly to ourselves. Afraid to share what we were living through for fear that we would lose (more) friends, feel like further outcasts for this road of foster adoption that we chose to travel, and lose the tiny tendrils of support that we thought we had.
But in this year of wrecking, we have started to let that go. I reached out more than ever to my core group of mamas who get this. I found myself and my family wrapped in prayers that hit the mark even with minute knowledge of the details.
The Spirit works like that.
I saw my own faith and the faith of my husband grow. Both individually and together. And we started telling our family more about what our life looks like. It has been hard, but it has been worth it.
So it should come as no surprise that I couldn't wait to kiss 2019 goodbye. Peace out, you rotten year.
When I started thinking about setting a word or intention for 2020, I was cautiously hopeful. But then, as He does, He started speaking to me. And I'll be honest, I wasn't real thrilled with the dialogue.
For three days straight I woke up with the same song in my head.
In the crushing, in the pressing, You are making new wine.
Every moment my mind was idle...
In the soil I now surrender, You are breaking new ground.
What-more crushing?
So I yield to You and Your careful hand. When I trust You I don't need to understand.
More pressing? I'm all pressed out, God.
So make me a vessel. Make me an offering. Make me whatever You want me to be.
I came here with nothing, but all you have given me. Jesus bring new wine out of me.
For days I wrestled. Telling God that I couldn't handle any more pressing, any more crushing.
Then He gently laid it on my heart. New.
Yes, this year had crushed and pressed. But it wasn't in vain. The pressure had clamped down to bring forth newness. Restoration. Renewal. I had told him I would go where he wanted me to go. I had sang this song in worship, and He was following through.
Make me a vessel. Make me an offering. Make me whatever You want me to be.
It wasn't a promise that this year was going to be filled with new and exciting things. It wasn't a promise that the hard things would be over and all would be unicorns and rainbows. But it was a promise that even though the pressure seems more than we can bear, beautiful things come from hard labors.
He promises to make all things new.
His promises are never broken.
So 2020. Here's to the newness. Here is to renewal and reminders that He is good. Even when our lives feel less than.
Jesus bring new wine out of me.
All my love,
~M
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