just blink your eyes

Time stands still. Time flies by.

At the moment I can't tell what it's doing. It seems like just yesterday I was counting down to my wedding day from 100. And suddenly (or is it finally?) we are under two weeks. Unbelievable. Everything is starting to rush by -- but I am still watching it go by in slow motion. I feel like I could close my eyes and it would be right here. There is so much to take in, prepare for, jump into, hold back, and let go. But the day is drawing near, and happiness is swelling. People keep asking me, "Is it sinking in? Does this feel real yet?" Again, yes and no. Because marriage is something I have never experienced, I don't think I can fully prepare for what it will be like. What does feel real is the knowledge that it's coming. And very soon.

Every time I stop for a moment and try to take it all in, my heart almost trembles at God's overwhelming goodness. There are so many needs and questions and decisions that demand resolution, and all we can do is hold out our empty hands and ask for His goodness.

And He fills us. He is guiding us. He is giving us beyond what we could ever ask or think.

~~~

Just blink your eyes and how time has shifted. I wrote the above paragraphs two weeks before my wedding day and now here I am almost two months later: married, happy, and still waiting for the "unreal" to become reality. And I need mercy. The older I get and the more life I expereince, the more I crave His mercy. Mercy to understand. Mercy to serve. Mercy to live in unfamiliar territory for awhile. Mercy to trust Him with all of my inadequacies knowing that His strength is perfect.

And it's a good place to be in.

the girl with the new last name

My eyes opened while the morning was still young and covered in darkness. It was one of those mornings when you are startled out of a dream and it takes a few moments to remember where you are. I rolled over and looked at the outline of numbers keeping time beside my bed. 4:47. Then suddenly, like a wave of warm sea water the revelation hit me in the face.

Today I'm getting married.

And I heard nothing but my own heartbeat all day, until the moment he clutched my hand and I leaned into his shoulder during communion while the faces of our dear family and friends looked on. We took of His body and blood together -- the sacrifice that allowed God and man to become one -- the sacrifice that surrounds Brian and my unity. A song played around us and I listened to it now. Not the song, but the beat. His heart and mine. Together making promises for our lives that only the Sacrifice we take of could help us keep.

I took his name with me as I walked off of that stage. And I intend to keep it and honor it forever. Because marriage isn't something that just happens when two people fall in love. It's grandeur than a movie and closer than the rings around our fingers. Marriage is the sound of a veil tearing. Everything within you must unfold before the sinner you were made to love and respect, not just on the wedding day but every day.

I love my husband. And I adore the Giver of all good things, like marriage and the sweet man who is in this together with me. And I love my new last name.

"Many, LORD my God, are the wonders you have done, the things you planned for us. None can compare with you; were I to speak and tell of your deeds, they would be too many to declare." (Psalms 40:5)

birdsongs

There is something about waking up before daylight; something quieting, something hushed, something you lean in to listen to. Before the world yawns awake the dark stillness presses the light-lover in you to begin looking out windows or windshields for the hope of the day. The light cannot be seen but she is coming. The sounds are what you feel more than anything at first. The click of the kettle turning off. The squeaky last stair. A soft whispered "good morning."

And then the birdsong begins.

Alone in the dark, another beating feathered soul is bursting with the joy of this morning. She sings out aware of nothing else except the coming dawn. And my heart smiles at this delicate confidence that a new day is near and deserves to be welcomed. Good morning.

There is something about the mornings that make you listen to the birdsong. And I am reminded that darkness gives us eyes and ears to experience the gifts overlooked or overwhelmed by the sound of living. May I learn to always listen for the faithful little songs that are filled with the gentle melodies of God's goodness.

the engagement story

Gather around my friends...

It was a dark and stormy night, quite foggy too, on the day Brian and I became engaged; just perfect for trying to plan an outdoor proposal, I am sure. Because Brian and my work schedules were a little conflicting during this time, Tuesday afternoon was almost the only day open for us both before Christmas and we decided to have a nice date despite the weather. He originally told me that we were going downtown for a later dinner at a cozy little Italian restaurant, thus we needed to kill some time beforehand. After he picked me up, we drove around the mountain chatting and catching up when Brian turned to go down to the brow overlook.

This was not strange to me because we often drive to the brow and talk and look at the city lights. I was completely oblivious to what was about to happen. We both got out of the truck and looked down toward the brow. He kinda shrugged his shoulders and said, "Do you want to go down?" [I'm telling you, the man was as calm as could be during this whole process thus far. I am truly amazed looking back.] Well I have always found fog to be romantic and a little fog didn't bother me in the least. I was still thinking that we were simply killing time, so we might as well stop at the brow for a little while. Before we left the truck to walk down, Brian pulls out from behind his seat this relatively large cardboard box and begins to take it with us. Before I could even ask, "What in the world?" he told me it was an early Christmas present he wanted me to have. Again, call me naive, but I really suspected nothing.

We got down to the overlook and gazed at the mysterious wall of fog surrounding us. It was so quiet, the kind of muffled quiet only fog can bring. I eyed the box and Brian gave me his knife to cut the tape. Inside was a stained-glass crimson star wrapped in newspaper. It was so beautiful. I picked it up and held it for a moment. I sat it back in the paper and gave Brian a hug. He laughed and said, "Well why don't you look inside?"

This is the moment, folks, when dear old Kaysie finally got a twinge of suspicion. My heart started beating faster and my breath kind of caught in my throat. I remember thinking to myself, "He's not about to..." I slowly opened the tiny door in the center of the star. Inside was the most beautiful ring I've ever seen and a poem, which I quickly recognized was written by Wendell Berry, written in Brian's handwriting taped inside the door.

I didn't move, I didn't breathe, I just stood there with my hands covering my mouth not believing what was sitting in front of me. I think I remember my leg shaking because I was trying not to cry, which didn't end up working. I am unsure of how long I would have remained in this stone-like position if it had not been for Brian finally reaching inside and taking the ring, getting down on one knee and telling me how much he loved me before asking me to marry him. I think you might suspect what my answer was... YES! He slipped the ring onto my finger and we both stared at it for a few moments. As we hugged, my happy tears soaked into his jacket while I looked up into the evening sky unable to utter anything, yet my heart was overwhelmed with gratitude. We were both speechless for a little while.

And I thought my heart was going to explode from pure happiness. God is truly good to those who wait for Him, to those who seek Him...

welcome to a new beginning

I'm just going to come right out and say it. This may be a bad idea. Switching blog names, locations, and hosts may potentially succeed in dismissing the majority of my followers, search engine ratings, and my already fading blogging remembrance. Yet I've been itching to remake and remodel my blogging existence and hopefully stimulate my creative writing juices through that process. As you can see, a few things have changed -- such as my blog name (Alabaster Box is now and I often wonder), web address (www.alabasterboxblog.com has changed to www.andioftenwonder.blogspot.com), and template layout. I switched back to Blogspot because their new features intrigued me and the templates are easier to change, edit, and update without having to pay for a host like I was with Wordpress.

So with all the many changes around here, what hasn't changed?

Hopefully you will discover, if you choose to stick around, that the message will remain as redeemed, honest, and heartfelt as I can write it, by God's grace. That is my purpose here. The last few months (years?) have been a refining time for more than just my writing, and I suppose my greatest goal in setting out here is to be as sincere and sanctified as I can. It is so easy to hide behind our blog names and create an appearance we wished always described us, though sometimes we really do this unintentionally. I'll have you know right now -- I am not perfect and I do not wish my writing to exhibit any other opinion. I serve a perfecting, merciful God and any good you see, any encouragement you receive, any comfort you find comes straight from Him alone. I am simply pleased that He chooses to use me.

So without further ado, I welcome you to my new blogging home and hope you enjoy and I often wonder as much (or perhaps more!) than you enjoyed Alabaster Box. Let me know what you think about the new package and if you don't mind changing your links I would appreciate it. I have tried my best to redirect the RSS and email feeds for those of you who subscribe.

RSS and email subscribers CLICK HERE to see the new site.

insights must lead us toward trust

"You have amazing insights."

If I was honest, I would say that this is perhaps the most common response to my blogging. It is a kind comment for sure, as are most comments here, and I am thankful and encouraged by each one. I do, however, sometimes wonder if being recognized for mere "insight" satisfies me too much. Yes, I do posses a weird capability for discovering something interesting from seemingly insignificant moments such as taking out the trash or driving down the interstate. The world is brimming with lessons and reflections of incredible truths. And that is mostly what I use this blog for; writing down the trivial, sometimes interesting insights I collect during the course of my existence. (And yes, those insights have been running dry around here lately, but please be patient with me.)

The thought of being appreciated for written insights used to hold a great deal of pleasure for me. Until I realized that creating a shiny museum of various and sundry "godly thoughts" wasn't really my God-given purpose in life. And that explosive revelation came from a now beloved author named Brennan Manning. About three months ago my eyes grazed these words that led to a complete renovation of my life and my faith. Manning begins the first chapter of his book Ruthless Trust with these words:

This book started writing itself with a remark from my spiritual director. "Brennan, you don't need any more insights into the faith," he observed. "You've got enough insights to last you three hundred years. The most urgent need in your life is to trust what you have received." [emphasis mine]

My eyes would move no further. Those words weren't only meant for Brennan Manning. They were meant for me. I felt the urgency of this conviction. My shallow appetite for the comfortable was exposed. I've filled this blog with over 300 "insightful" posts, but how well do I really trust what I've sometimes casually written? It is far easier to observe and discuss the beauty and intensity of the Christian faith rather than to recklessly cast myself, my dreams, my fears, my insecurities, my infatuation with safety onto an unflinching trust in Jesus Christ.

It is one thing to appreciate truth. It is quite another to trust it. "Insight" denotes an understanding of something. "Trust" tastes like responsibility and commitment. But understand, one is not wrong and the other right. Both are obviously needed for faith in God, as I am learning. Insight and trust nourish each other. By understanding truth in ways that are engaging and applicable, our trust in God should be fed. In turn, in our desperate quest to trust God, we gain a deeper and greater appreciation of what exactly we do or don't understand.

The challenge to actually trust God forced me to to deconstruct what I had spent my life constructing, to stop clutching what I was so afraid of losing, to question my personal investment in every word I had ever written or spoken about Jesus Christ and fearlessly ask myself if I trusted Him. (Manning)

That is the question I am forcing myself to answer. Am I content to observe and record my faith in Christ from a safe distance without risking personal investment in the truth that I share or claim to believe? More than ever before, I hope that I may humbly answer "no." It is worthless to make bold claims about God's goodness, His grace, His love, and His faithfulness without fearlessly offering my whole self on the altar of my assertions.

significance, failures, and sunday evenings

Yes, I know. You are shocked that there is a new post here, finally. You were beginning to think Kaysie had forgotten her Wordpress password or crashed her computer or something terrible like that, weren't you? Well nothing justifiable like that has happened to me (thank God), but I think I have neglected everyone long enough.

Truth is I've been pondering the significance of this little blog, yet again. Sometimes it can feel useless to keep mumbling away about observations and topics that are perhaps only important to myself, assuming others have and can say it better, and really not wanting to put forth enough effort to extract my opinion and spread it out here in a readable fashion. Excuses, excuses. Not really worth much, but it feels better to say all that out loud.

But a friend and I have been discussing significance and failure lately, and I couldn't help but connect what I was learning through our conversations with my opinion about this blog and my writings. Occasionally during the course of existing in this world, one begins to wonder, "Am I really making any difference? Does my life matter? Am I fulfilling my God-given purpose right now?" All great questions to ask, especially if you discover encouraging answers. But it seems to me that sometimes (oftentimes?) in my quest to find and achieve significance, my motivation gets tangled up in another web of questions and fears, like, "What is holding me back from running after what I believe God is calling me to do? What if I fail miserably? How can I make a difference when the task before me is so insurmountably huge and I am just one person, one voice, one life? And what if I fail miserably (wait, did I already say that?)?"

Again, all good questions that I know you've had before too. But for me, I believe it gets back to two things: truth and obedience. I painfully recognize that I am a sinner who fails much more often than I want to, but because of Jesus Christ and His redemption in my life I am moving forward and not backwards (1 Peter 1:18-19, Phil. 3:12-14). His opinion of me is immeasurably beyond what I deserve -- He loved me enough to die for me (John 3:16), He chose me as His eternal bride even though I was stained and immoral (Eph. 1:7-9, 5:25-27), He is working in me and through me every day, perfecting what He began until He comes back (Phil. 1:6). All that is truth. And in order to feel the kind of biblical significance that I should, I must believe what He says. This truth sets me free from my twisted opinions about myself and my significance.

Yet even when the truth is burning in my chest -- even when I believe what He says and I want to run this course with every ounce of passion I have -- there still lies another brick wall I always seem to slam into. Failure. Or rather, the fear of it. What if I did take that jump and go for what I think God wants me to do ... and then I failed? You know, hit the ground with a loud, painful thud. And everyone was watching. Suddenly taking that next step seems to be the most illogical, stupid thing I could ever imagine doing. And I'm paralyzed. Again.

Life in Christ really isn't about failure, however, it is about obedience. That makes a huge difference in my mind. Sometimes I become so fixated on the results (or the desired results) of my efforts that I loose sight of the purpose and motivation behind and beneath whatever I'm doing. God simply wants obedience. And if I follow Him into something and it "fails" or doesn't look like I wanted it to, if I was obedient, it really isn't a failure.

So with all that said, if I believe that God has called me to blog or write or speak or walk or share or collect red jelly beans (ok, so that last one was random), by all means I should cast the fear of failure behind me, believe who He is and what He says about me, and live in obedience to His Word. That's where I find my significance and purpose.