Devotions

When I was 12 years old, I learned how to do a round-off back hand-spring. It took me months of private lessons at the local YMCA and many, many awkward moments of trying to do a standing back hand-spring with my instructor "spotting me," only for me to chicken out at the last minute and come crashing into her... the full weight of my body... plummeting onto her as I apologized and said, "I'm sorry... I just can't do it!" It was so embarrassing-- with her holding her hand under my back and supporting my awkward pre-teen body while I continuously failed, over and over, somewhere between 10-15 times a lesson. Nevertheless, I persisted. I was able to do the thing eventually - literally once - all by myself. For a panel of cheerleading coaches during 7th-grade try-outs. And once I didn't make the team, I never did it again. You may be asking, " Why did you do that, Carly? Why did you try so hard at something you never even kept up with? Wasn't tha

The air smells like rain. It rained much earlier today, but ironically, in the heat of summer, the air seems frozen in time. It is warm, but not hot. Evening. On a Tuesday... my last Tuesday of summer break.  Something was drawing me outside tonight... the way the sun's rays were entering our home and dancing on the piano made me wonder what the sky must look like from our front porch. I caught glimpses of what I had imagined it must look like outside... on our now-pink tinted walls, through warm, orange cracks in the curtains. I had to see what the sky looked like, in all of its full glory. The tiny glimpses I caught through the glass pieces in our door just weren't cutting it. And so, I opened the door, breathed in the rain-air, and stepped outside.  I've been sitting out here for about twenty minutes now, and it's already dark. I caught the last look at the orange-pink sky setting behind the houses across the street. There's heat lightening flashing across the ne

Well, it's that time of year again. The sun is high in the summer sky, the chicken kabobs are outside grilling, and the smell of sunscreen and chlorine are floating off my skin as I smell my armpits to check if I need to shower or not. And I am craving juice. So, a few hours ago I trotted down the cool basement stairs to find my favorite $6 Salvation Army find: a Hamilton Beach home juicer (by far the best ever "AS IS" thrift store gamble that I've ever made). I washed it off, turned it on, and started making some fresh juice. Three hours later, I think I should be good on juice for... basically forever, actually.  But as it turns out, after three hours of being home alone on a Friday night, dancing around your kitchen to OneRepublic and telling your speaker, "Alexa, VOLUME UP!", you tend to get pretty introspective. I think it's because the repetitive motion of chopping apples and shoving them into the top hole of the juicer brings back all the memori

 I logged on to write today and then I read my last post from back in November. I actually laughed out loud. If you didn't read it, it's actually not ground-breaking or even inspiring, really... it's just a rant about how busy I am and how hurried my life is under the yoke of never-ending to-do lists. I laughed because upon reading it today, the day I finished The Ruthless Elimination of Hurry by John Mark Comer, it seemed pretty ironic, don't you think? It was almost as if God were smiling on me and saying, "I see you, Carly. I see how you showed up to be with me today, on your Sabbath. I am with you and I want to breathe life into you."  And boy, do I need some life . Spring is coming and I'm eagerly awaiting the new beginnings it can bring-- it seems like this winter has been a long one. It's been cold and I've been in this constant state of fatigue for the past four months or so. It's been a slow-moving winter but somehow it also feels so

 Friends, life has been absolutely crazy lately. Like, busy, wild, jam-packed, stressful, tiresome, busy, and did I mention… busy? I don’t know why I pack my schedule so tightly, or why I insist on adding more things to my plate even when I am already drowning in to-dos. It’s all too much, and yet when I survey the work of my hands at the end of the day, I feel I’m not enough.  I replay the failures I had, the frustrations I unleashed, and the impatient impulses that drove me to paralysis. I recount all the times I responded to someone in anger, or judged someone with hurtful thoughts, or even worse, hurtful speech. Somehow, it doesn’t matter how hard I try to “do it all…” As long as I’m doing it all as poorly as I have been, then what’s the point? And I’m not writing this for sympathy. I don’t want any words of encouragement. I need a wake-up call, and for the Holy Spirit to speak truth into me when I need it most. I don’t need another human’s words or actions to comfort me. I need Je

  Father , I want a lot of things. I want the Reds to play well this season. I want to be a better cook. I want my plants to grow and explode with life in my garden. I want these cicadas to just hurry up and die already. I want chocolate. I want to have a marriage that lacks nothing. I want my family to all live long, healthy lives with their eyes fixed on You. I want my friends to come to know Jesus as their Savior. I want answers to hard questions. I want things to be immediate because I hate waiting. I want to be firm in my identity and stop seeking it in futile places.  I'm starting to feel a little like Veruca Salt from Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory. "Daddy, I want a pony!" In all seriousness, though, I have a lot of wants and desires, Jesus. I take tremendous peace in knowing that You already know my thoughts. Your Word says that you know my words before they're even spoken... every thought inside my brain (...and You still love me enough to die for me?