Chalk Board

I wrote this quote a few months ago (*cough*6*cough*) on our blackboard in the kitchen. It reminded me of our little artist community, our neighbors, family. It felt easy when I chalked it up there. Then this year happened and suddenly I found myself without a “ministry platform”. Things I had worked hard to accomplish, build, invest in, grow, they all fell like sand through my fingers as our church home was taken from us. I’m now standing on the other side literally thinking, “what the fuck just happened?” Yeah… I love Jesus and sometimes I say the F-word. Not sorry. I have all these thoughts, ideas, feelings, and nothing to funnel them into. My kids have collapsed before us and I don’t believe it has nothing to do with what was done to us. I am realizing what that quote can really mean and really look like. It can look like crying over my kids every.damn.day. It’s sitting in the doctor’s office again with my kiddo. It’s sending an email to a teacher. It’s pleading with my kiddo about school. And it’s trying to squeeze in every hug and ‘I love you’ before they can’t see me or hear me anymore. It’s pulling myself out of bed at 5 am to make it to the gym, so when they go to school, and a little one is placed in my arms for the day by her momma, I’ve got the stamina and brainpower to do it. It’s letting my guard down and letting people see the real me, the one who’s struggling, the one who cannot do this year, so when they fall apart, they can be vulnerable with me. Ministry is real life, by real people, doing real things. And it’s hard. Really hard. You don’t need a fancy building and lots of programs. You need your heart, open and honest, and ears ready to listen. Don’t let anyone fool you. We can all do this.