Stand Still (and play!)

Stand Still (and play!)

When we don’t know what to do. When we can’t figure out our next move, that is the time to stand still.

I was holding my little niece Genevieve today while putting dishes in the dishwasher. She was cheerfully watching me work. Her little head turning back and forth as I picked up a dish, rinsed it and put it in the dishwasher. She didn’t want to miss a thing.

At one point I leaned over a bit further than she was comfortable, so she held on to me a little tighter and let out a squeal, a bit concerned that I may drop her. I turned and looked into her big, beautiful eyes and said “Genevieve, I got you. I’m not gonna let you fall.” Those words came back to mind just as my head was hitting the pillow that night. And I felt the Lord saying to me, “Connie, little Genevieve knows how to stand still and watch me work.”

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I thirst.

I thirst.

I took this picture a few years ago in Kolkata, India.

This striking crucifix stood tall, affixed to the side of a Hindu temple that housed Mother Teresa’s Home for the Dying. The man on the tree, with the words inscribed beneath him declaring his heart for humanity – I thirst. 

It takes your breath away. Quite literally. I remember gasping as I walked out of the Kalighat temple area, a place dedicated to the worship of idols. And when I turned around and looked up, I could hardly believe my eyes. 

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You are Brave

You are Brave

You are brave.

I remember the day I began to know that I was courageous. At the time, I didn’t feel very courageous at all. I was preparing to move to France. I’d decided that I wanted to learn French and that the fastest way to do it was to move halfway across the world. I was 24 and full of ambition, but also full of fear.

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Stay Still

Stay Still

My middle name is Tonea. It means stay here.

My parents gave me this name native to my birthplace, Liberia, because I was nearly miscarried early in my mother’s pregnancy. I guess they wanted to encourage me to stay here until the appropriate time of delivery. It is a lesson I am also learning now. Stay here. Stay still. It feels like Jesus has been instructing me by my middle name in this season, where we are in the throes of birth pangs.

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My Sacred Space

My Sacred Space

On my last night in my condo, I got on the floor like I’ve done so many times before in this little “prayer cottage.”

My home – as normal as any other suburban condo – had become my prayer closet. Every inch of it. Over these past 11 years, I can honestly say there was barely a place on the floor where I had not knelt in prayer – crying out for breakthroughs, seeking direction, or just enjoying friendship with Jesus.

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The Open Door

The Open Door

Last evening, as I talked with the Lord in prayer, the thought came to me: I can never go back. There is no turning back from here.

These are the defining moments. There are some moments, steps that the Lord asks us to take in faith, that when we say “yes” to him, there is no turning back. We are forever changed and can no longer go back to life as we knew it. 

These are never easy yeses.

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Walk With Me

Walk With Me

In this season it seems I’m continually asking the Lord for direction.  Am I going the right way?  Did I make a wrong turn? What should I do here?

There has been an enormous amount of change these last few months. And with it, there has also been great loss. The “good Christian” in me wants to follow that statement with “But God has been near. He has been faithful. He is trustworthy.” And wow – are all of those statements so incredibly true, especially right now. But in the midst of it all, there has also been suffering and loss that Jesus has invited me to sit with, linger there…and to walk with him.

 

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Kick Like a Little Fish

I recently had the joy of watching my brother teach his 18-month-old son how to kick his little feet in the water.  He was singing this cute song he’d picked up at Julian’s baby swim lessons:  “Kick, kick, kick like a little fish…” That evening, as I was getting ready for bed the image of Julian in the pool came to mind, and I began to hear my Father’s voice. “Connie, kick, kick, kick, like a little fish.” 

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