Happy Friday, everyone! I hope you had a wonderful week. Today’s the day to write out what I’m grateful for:

1. Old friendships. This week I saw some friends from college that I haven’t seen for 9 years, and I also got to Face Time with friends from California. There’s something so grounding and reassuring about being with people who knew you way back when, especially after this year of so many new relationships, places, and routines.

2. New friendships. I’ve been blessed to make many new friends since moving to Miami. I appreciate all the welcome I’ve felt from our church and school family, and the new relationships I’ve been given. I love the moments in new friendships when you find something new in common, hear their stories for the first time, and realize that these new people? They’ve got my back.

3. Dental care. We found out this week that my husband has a ton of dental work to be done, and I’m trying to stay positive instead of focusing on the fact that over the past few years we’ve spent the equivalent of a car or luxury vacation on his mouth. So in pursuit of the positive…I’m thankful for the fact that we are surrounded by good dental care. 🙂

4. Quiet nights. A couple nights this week, my husband and I didn’t turn on the TV. We just sat on the couch together while he studied a new set of curriculum standards, and I dug into a new book. Sometimes I don’t realize how noisy our days are until I sit and appreciate a quiet night.

5. Prayer. Last night at Bible study, I was reminded again of the power and privilege of prayer in James 5:13-20:

¹³ Is anyone among you in trouble? Let them pray. Is anyone happy? Let them sing songs of praise. ¹⁴ Is anyone among you sick? Let them call the elders of the church to pray over them and anoint them with oil in the name of the Lord. ¹⁵ And the prayer offered in faith will make the sick person well; the Lord will raise them up. If they have sinned, they will be forgiven. ¹⁶ Therefore confess your sins to each other and pray for each other so that you may be healed. The prayer of a righteous person is powerful and effective.

I’m beginning round 2, and that means today’s goal was to get outside. It was the absolute perfect day to do it. One of the few cool days left this winter, today was breezy, sunny, and perfectly pleasant. Every non-sticky, dry, cool-ish day this month I thought, “This one has got to be the last one of winter. I’m going to wake up tomorrow to perpetual heat and humidity that lasts until November.”

It’s made me savor the spring sun, the cool breeze, the absence of sweat dripping down my back. It’s made me slow down, take extra trips to the park with Ezra, letting five more minutes turn into fifteen and twenty and thirty.

Tonight our whole family pulled on our sneakers and took a walk after supper, down the wide green avenue of 114th. We passed a family on bikes, dozens of 20 and 30-somethings in neon spandex, mothers walking their family dogs, and a man on a seriously interesting bike that you rode on standing up.

The sun set. The breeze blew. The moon rose. And we were there to see it all, savoring one of the last cool days of winter. I was reminded that this is exactly how God wants us to live, savoring the present. When you’re enjoying the moment of hand, there’s simply not enough room to ruminate over past mistakes or fret over the fast-approaching future.

But he said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me. That is why, for Christ’s sake, I delight in weaknesses, in insults, in hardships, in persecutions, in difficulties. For when I am weak, then I am strong. (II Corinthians 12:9-10)

I ticked through four of my five goals last week, so I have just one left to go to finish out round one of my month of goals. My fifth goal is to get more of the gospel. It’s the most important thing we can hear in our lives, yet, why did I save it for last? Why do I often wait until my back is against the wall before I seek out my Bible and its message of grace, forgiveness and hope?

I think it has a lot to do with my pride. There’s something in my nature, probably all of our natures, that wants to do it ourselves. There’s something satisfying about figuring it out by myself, accomplishing a task, wrangling a project to completion, fixing something broken, the reward of hard work. I like the ‘atta-girls I get.

And probably more than that, I hate feeling weak. Or helpless. Or stupid. Or making mistakes. But since I am who I am (a human), I am by turns all of these things. There’s really no way to avoid it. Even if we’re super smart, we find ourselves doing stupid things. Even if we are strong, we have our weak places. Even if we do it all, we need help sometimes.

So this way of thinking (highly encouraged by our pull-yourself-up-by-your bootstraps society and work-hard-and-be-rewarded psyche of American culture) doesn’t line up at all with the gospel. Oprah and a lot of the self help books out there say you can do it, if you just try hard enough or let go enough or draw yourself up a vision board enough. A lot of people believe in grace, but in the context of love for others or loving yourself. Most of the world seriously doubts the love of God. And they’ll tell you that, too.

I point out my pride and our culture because these are just a few of the things lead me away from the gospel, from going to the sweet words of grace. There isn’t anything in this world, human or not, that is enough, sufficient, perfect, or all-encompassing. The true beauty of those words are found in the full and free salvation won for us by Jesus on the cross.

And that’s probably one of the reasons I don’t come to hear the gospel. I can pretend that things are sufficient and enough for awhile, but when the world, my own sin, and trials bring up the stark contrast between my crumbling life and the complete fullness of the gospel…that’s when I seek it out. And God knows that. There are times when I know he allows these things into my life simply to bring me back to his word. And that’s exactly what God did for Paul, too, in those verses in II Corinthians. Paul had a thorn in the flesh, whatever it was, we don’t know. But that thorn in that flesh was a daily reminder to Paul that God’s grace was enough and will always be enough.

When we’re down on our knees, humbled by pain or weakness or hurt, God’s power shines brightest by contrast. Clear out our pride about taking care of things by ourselves and our delusions that we have control, and the truth remains. God is love, and He is the only one that can see us through the darkness of this world…right into heavenly glory.

And for us believers, paradox is comfort and joy. When I realize my sin, how sweet my Savior is. When I face death, I am the closest to my home. When I let go of control and plans and worry, how smoothly I sail. When I am weak, oh how strong I know my God to be!

I’m grateful for these five things today:

1. Ordinary days. I recently reread a memoir called The Gift of an Ordinary Day, and it reminded me to be thankful for the little things.

2. The breeze.

3. An armful of new books from the library.

4. A nap.

5. Forgiveness, full and free.

In you, Lord, I have taken refuge;
let me never be put to shame.
² In your righteousness, rescue me and deliver me;
turn your ear to me and save me.
³ Be my rock of refuge,
to which I can always go;
give the command to save me,
for you are my rock and my fortress.
⁴ Deliver me, my God, from the hand of the wicked,
from the grasp of those who are evil and cruel.

Today I’m deferring my own written prayer for someone else’s (see goal number three). A pastor named Ben Zahn wrote this prayer, and I found it shared on Facebook. I’m kidnapping it for my own site because this morning, like a lot of people in our nation, I’m without words after yesterday’s tragedy in Boston and all the disturbing events of the last couple weeks. Let’s join together in praying for our country:

Gracious Lord, there’s been a lot of bad that has caused a lot of sadness across our country in the last week. From the college stabbings in Texas, to the college shooting in Virginia, to the individual lit on fire in CA or the reported murder-suicide in NYC by an NYPD agent… or now the reported explosions in Boston at the finish line of the marathon. Lord Jesus, we look and we ask all sorts of questions with dumb-founded-ness and disbelief. But worse, there’s the doubt that resides in the dark recesses of our hearts that arrogantly asks, “why God did you let this happen.” You don’t tell us why. Nor do you tell us what will happen after we say Amen to this prayer.
Why? Because you know that if we knew the future, we couldn’t handle it. The more we’d know of the future, the more we’d worry about it. The more we’d worry about it, the more we’d stray from you because we’d try to manage it ourselves. Lord Jesus, with humility we confess the future is not ours to know, but yours. It’s a part of your knowledge and majesty and so we ask you to focus us on your promise to us in Jesus… “For our light and momentary troubles are achieving for us an eternal glory that far outweighs them all. So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen, since what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal.” (2 Corinthians 4:17-18)
Dearest Jesus who died to demolish the voice of sin… to silence the speech of Satan … who rose to remove the haunting howl of the grave… speak to us through your Word. Calm, comfort, and console us by the power of your powerful Word and lift our eyes to that grand and glorious day when we see you face to face in joy, everlasting, Amen.

I began my month of 5 goals today…read more about them here.

When I moved to Miami this summer, I started doing yoga at a studio that held all of its classes outside, in a breezy pavilion above a set of tennis courts. During the winter months, the nights can grow a little chilly, but when summer comes our class becomes an unintentional Bikram yoga experience. I’ve done my downward dogs and warriors while sudden rainstorms blow through, a fat yellow moon rises above the palm trees, and tiny little lizards dart across the ceiling.

I love it.

I’m thankful for this time outside, because each time I climb the stairs and roll my mat out on the cool tiles I’m reminded just how blest I am to live in this warm, tropical place. How grateful I feel that the Lord brought me here. Just last year I was practicing yoga in a small studio on a hilltop in Southern California, one year later I find myself all the way across the country.

These Monday nights are quiet, and during the silence of each session, my thoughts often drift to the wonder of where I am, the journey that brought me here. Who could have arranged such a change? Who could have worked this out for me, for my family? Who could have guessed that I’d live on both of our country’s coasts? Not me…only my God. As I watch the pieces of our life fall into place, He knew I’d be here all along and was way ahead of us, paving the way for us.

I’m stuck. There are some heavy things that I need to put down, and some lighter, brighter things that I need to pick up. And while I’m transitioning, it’s been difficult to write. I don’t want to give up this blog, but I need to take a break from my usual posts. I’m going to do something different for a little while, but I hope you hang with me as I look to form some new habits in my life.

I need so much more of God and his Gospel in my life. I haven’t been doing a good job of keeping him in my daily routine, and I’ve suffered. I came up with a list of things that will be the inspiration, comfort, and care that I need. I’m going to share these goals with you because I hope that it’s going to hold me accountable and get me back to the place where I can write more.

For the next month (April 12 to May 12), I’m going to do one at least one of these things every day and post about it here on 31 Feet. If you want to come along for the ride, feel free to use the comments page to post your progress, too, but no pressure. This practice is supposed to be like medicine, and I’m trying to think of it that way, not as some list of to-do’s that I’m threatening myself with.

Here goes!

1. Get outside. God created the world marvelously, so that when we look at nature our soul is stirred to our Creator. Maybe it’s just a walk around our neighborhood, a trip to the park, or plans for a camping trip this summer, but I need some more outside time. I hope to bring my camera along and post some of the pictures here.

2. Read the Psalms. The New Year’s Day sermon I heard this year was a call to read the Psalms, to make them a part of your daily life. This sounds so ridiculous, and I’m ashamed, but I need to praise God more. The Psalms put those words of praise in my mouth. I’ll write out these Psalms here on the blog so you can read if you drop by.

3. Start writing out my prayers. I read a funny quote on Pinterest this week.

Men: If you ever wanna know what a woman’s mind feels like, imagine a browser with like 2,857 tabs open.

I laughed out loud. So true. Which is precisely why it’s hard for me to pray sometimes (okay, a lot of the time). I have so much going on up there, it’s hard to tune it out. When I write out my prayers, I focus so much better at the task at hand, instead of losing my concentration or (so sad) falling asleep.

4. Practice gratitude. I used to be an avid gratitude journal-er. But not so much anymore. Being thankful produces contentment, wards off envy and greed, and makes me happy. I don’t know why I stopped.

5. Marvel at the Gospel. The news that Jesus loved me so much that he saved me is something I need to hear everyday. I’m going to hunt down some good Gospel passages this month.

So this is where I’m starting. Cheer me on or try it with me. If you want, share some of your goals here, too, and we can help each out out along the way.

🙂 Dana

I celebrated last Sunday with my husband and two kids at church. We ate breakfast at church and met some friends at the pool in the late afternoon. We laid in the sun, splashed in the pool, and meandered back home. My husband got us take out for dinner, and we all Skyped with my in-laws. It was a low key holiday. And that’s one of the reasons I love Easter so much.

Easter’s just not like Christmas, the flashier uber holiday of the church year. There are six weeks of Lenten reflection in the deep of winter, one Holy Week on the verge of spring, and then, with plenty of time to prepare, Easter arrives. It’s not at all like Christmas, smooshed into the craziness of the December holidays, which always comes too soon.

I don’t decorate for Easter. I don’t got crazy shopping or cooking. We buy a few treats for the Easter baskets, hide them the night before, and call it a day. We’ll dye a few eggs and find our citywide egg hunt one Saturday. When I cook, but we usually grill out, but this year we got take out. We don’t travel either. Sometimes we’ll have visitors from up north, but usually it’s just the four of us, going to church and taking a nice long nap afterwards.

During Christmas, I seek out calm and serenity. For Lent, it seems to find me. This Christmas I wrote a blog every day to force my attention to the right place. During Lent, I just kind of sat with my thoughts and the blogging lagged.

Christmas’s arrival is the grand finale of anticipation and excitement. I find myself wound up and exhausted afterwards. While Easter brings relief and peace, a wellspring of comfort and quiet to me.

I imagine the scene for myself: The dusky dawn of a Sunday morning, the women wrung out and bone tired from the weekend, but quietly slipping through the streets to a dewy garden. Ready to prepare the body, their arms were full of spices and perfumes. When they arrive at the tomb, they find a surprising scene: no body. My reaction would have been the same as theirs: Who has stolen the Lord’s body? And then an even more startling scene: the angels appearance. He is not here? He has risen? They run back to retrieve the disciples, who find the same scene and walk away puzzled.

Except Mary Magdalene. Full of sadness and confusion, she remains there, in the garden by herself. A quiet place. A place for mourning and reflecting, wondering and weeping.

Until the gardener finds her and asks her why she is crying. She looks up in desperate hope: could you have taken my Lord? If you have, please, show me where.

And one word ushers in relief and joy, unfathomable surprise and a daring, surging hope:

Mary.

Her name. Her Lord. Her hope. Her joy.

Rabboni!

And in the quietness of this place, joy rushes forward, tumbles over, and flows in unrestrained. Confusion is still abundant, but over-ridden. Jesus is alive. All is well with our souls.

This unexpected bliss comes on the heels of so much pain, on the heels of death. And it is the same for us. This Easter bliss, the promise of own resurrection and eternal life, comes on the heels of our own pains and deaths. This Easter bliss is our only balm the morning after the deaths of those we love, in the dawn of pain and trial and temptation. And finally, this Easter bliss is the only thing we will hang onto in our final moments, the moment the sun sets on this life and rises in the next.

In that new morning, when I step into that garden, I hope and anticipate one word:

Dana.

From the mouth of my Lord. I have never seen him, this man who would look like a stranger to me, but when he says my name I will know him as my Rabboni, too. My Jesus still the same.

I know that my Redeemer lives, and that in the end he will stand upon the earth. And after my skin has been destroyed, yet in my flesh I will see God; I myself will see him with my own eyes – I, and not another. How my heart yearns withine me! Job 19:25-27