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Ice makes the trees sparkle and snap in nature’s percussive melody further north. Crews work to clear the roads and restore power. 

But here in the ATL — blue skies and sunny. Most of last night’s rain is dried up and traffic is moving nicely. For us, all the precautions seem like an overreaction because of last year.  

They made the calls this morning. No 9:45 class. No rehearsal. No evening classes to teach. My schedule today is suddenly empty. But I want to dance. I want to see my kiddos and work on their recital dances. Why did we have to cancel? 

And I realize this discontentment comes from a deeper place. The NEED to be doing something. The addiction to busy. I’m believing the lie that because my calendar is full and minutes organized into a neat little schedule that I’m being productive. 

And I think maybe I’m supposed to “do nothing” today. Maybe I need to stop and soak. To be {still} and know that HE is God. To rest; let my heart marinate in His word instead of settling for a microwaved faith on the go. 

Stillness. I choose to embrace the unexpected space. 

So I sit here, on the couch, in the quiet. My Sari Bari blanket in my lap. I’ve read a few chapters in my favorite book, made progress on my hand-embroidery project. Thinking. Dreaming. Trusting. Savoring the moments.

And I resist the urge to fight. Because when I fight, I resist Grace.

I get up earlier than normal to get ready for a photo shoot. Gather everything I need for the day — tutu, props/outfits for the shoot, shoes, snacks, rehearsal clothes, teaching clothes — oh, can’t find my iPod, so throw the computer in there for class music. Finally make it out the door to the car. The car doesn’t start. 

Ok, problem solver: let’s try jumping it. Joshua doesn’t have cables. I go to the leasing office and ask. Nope. Back up to our place. Caleb has cables. Pop the hood. There’s no coolant. Grrr. I just took it in on Friday and told them it was leaking coolant and they said nothing was wrong. Refill the coolant. Jump doesn’t work. Cancel the photo shoot. Call the auto repair shop. They tell me to tow it to the nearest location. Wait on hold for 20 minutes…they’re sending a tow truck. 

Tow truck takes the Jeep away. Caleb graciously lets me use his car for the day. I’m a few minutes late to class and rehearsal. My heel feels like it has a bad stone bruise. Get out of rehearsal and start to make the trek North to teach. I call for an update on the car. He says he’ll talk to his supervisor. Traffic is at a standstill. Apparently someone strapped a suspicious item to the 14th Street bridge. I take an alternate route. Car place calls in the middle of my class of 7yr olds. They want to tow it to another location. Okay. I head back to ATL. My throat hurts. 

Not the greatest day. As much as I really want to I refuse to join the Mopey Monday Club.

Tuesday my heel still hurts. A frog has taken residence in my throat. The car doesn’t get to the other shop until mid afternoon. By the fourth hour of teaching, my voice barely reaches over a whisper. They’re running an overnight test on the car. But I found my iPod! (it was in my bag the whole time).

 “It’s good practice for considering it all joy” I tell myself. But I don't feel like it.

Wednesday, still no voice. The car gets done in time for me to pick up on the way to teach. Thursday I’m congested and fight to focus through the fog of Mucinex brain. But my heel feels better!

~~~ 

I know the circumstances of my crummy week are petty and pale in comparison to most of the heavy issues faced by many. Not going to lie, it’s super hard to choose joy. But there’s grace.  

Grace is Caleb lending his car and riding the bus to school. Grace is being able to get off the highway to take an alternate route (thanks to that usually awkward Howell Mill ramp to I-75 S/Northside Dr. exit). Grace is Daddy talking to the mechanics for you. Grace is students who bear with you when your voice goes AWOL. Grace is cancelled rehearsal when you really need rest. Grace is free car repairs because the issue was on warranty from a previous job. 

Grace is the ability to look at the bright side; to give thanks in all circumstances. Grace is the reason we can consider it all joy. Because He’s brought our dead heart to life and no crummy week can take that away from us. 

May you refuse to join the Mopey Monday Club.

Let your eyes look directly ahead and let your gaze be fixed straight in front of you. ~Pr. 4:25 

Towards the end of last year, a freelance gig fell through and I was slightly ticked at the circumstances. Mommy gently encouraged me: yeah, it might have been nice do the job and though my schedule allowed it, it was just peripheral. It didn't connect to anything else I was working on, it wasn’t on mission or off mission; it was just fluff — so don’t get agitated about it.

I started thinking about the other peripheral things that were taking more energy and brain space than they needed to. I seems get distracted by the peripheral a lot. Most of the time these distractions aren’t bad in themselves but they take my focus off of what’s important. Giving too much attention to the non-essentials keeps me busy but really, it’s just another way of filling a void that only Jesus can satisfy. 

It reminds me of the time Peter walked on water. Scripture says, “Then Peter got down out of the boat and walked on the water and came toward Jesus. But when he saw the wind, he was afraid and, beginning to sink, cried out “Lord, save me!” (Matt. 14:29,30). The Message version says “…when he looked down at the waves churning beneath his feet, he lost his nerve and started to sink…” Peter took his eyes off Jesus and began to trust His own abilities. “Immediately Jesus reached out his hand and caught him “You of little faith,” he said, “Why did you doubt?” (v. 31). Focusing on the surrounding circumstances causes me to take my eyes off Jesus. Then, I start to rely on my own strength and drown in unnecessary stress. 

When my family began to choose our words of the year [read about Daddy’s word here], this verse came to mind:

The steadfast of mind, you will keep in perfect peace because He trusts in you. ~Isaiah 26:3

Steadfast — that’s my word. I want to fix the gaze of my heart and mind on Jesus. I want to trust that He will bring to the forefront what needs to be addressed instead of looking for things to address.  

It’s not that I need to be more focused (those of you that know me know that I can be a little too focused at times). Steadfast is different from focused. Steadfast stays the same when circumstances change. Focused changes depending on the circumstances. Steadfast is set on a fixed target. Focused is fixed on a moving target. 

Steadfast has Jesus always at the forefront. Steadfast is anchored in Hope amidst the waves of circumstance. It’s the result of faith tested. A steadfast heart is a grateful heart. Steadfast doesn’t run to fill the void but stays to hear the Voice; it isn’t afraid of being still. Steadfast trusts fearlessly. 

Jesus, fix the gaze of our minds and hearts on You. May we choose not be be distracted by the peripheral but trust you to bring what’s important to the forefront. Guard our minds with your perfect peace that we may be joyful in all circumstances. May we be steadfast in the waiting. Steadfast in the working. Steadfast in the stillness. Renew a steadfast spirit within us that we might keep move forward in courageous obedience. Jesus, be the center. 

*Hebrews 6:19, James 1:3, Psalm 12:7, 51:10, 57:7, 119:5

Drowning.
The water swirls; I gasp for air
My arms slap the surface and my legs kick frantically
Tired. Spent. Muscles fatigued. Mind exhausted.
But I must keep fighting.

Fighting gives me purpose.
Fighting fills the void.
Fighting gives me somewhere to expend energy.
Fighting distracts me.

The current takes me.
Downstream. I can't help it.
There's nothing to grab on to.
No embankments. I splash. Swept away.

For a split second I stop fighting.
Where's the current?
Floating. I don't sink.
I look around. Quiet waters.
There's nothing to fight.

Jesus.

Sunshine sparkles.
Birds sing sweetly.
I feel solid rock underneath my feet.
He takes hold of my hand.

He is my purpose.
He fills the void.
He is the source of energy.
He keeps me focused.

Jesus will fight for me.
I need only be still. Green pastures.
Paths of righteousness.
For His Name's sake.

be still and know that I am God. ~Ps. 46:10

Sometimes my brain likes to jump ahead and imagine scenarios that are possible but completely improbable when viewed in light of the current situation.

Example: earlier this week, I spent 15 minutes looking at flight/wardrobe cases in custom colors for when Bluebird tours an original, full length production around the world–probably not happening any time soon. I have to remind myself to rein it in; or sometimes other people do that for me.

It’s fun to imagine big things for the future. It’s inspiring, motivating. It keeps the dream alive (and sometimes makes me so giddy I can’t sleep). But just as much as worry distracts us, dwelling on the “one day” can cause us to be blind to the “today.” 

From the flight cases, I jumped to designing costumes for a future children’s ballet. Rapidly sending texts to Mommy as thoughts cross my mind. “One week at a time” appears in the next gray bubble and she gently reminds me that I have a show this weekend. Right. Rein it in, Rebekah. Being instead of doing. 

There’s something between our imagination and things coming to fruition called reality. It’s tempting to blame the state of our current situation on “not being there yet” but big dreams come with responsibility. 

Reality is the now. 
Reality is today. 
Today is the responsibility. 

Today. Now, is all we have under our control.

The “one day” is actually the result of baby steps taken in faithful, courageous obedience. Reality is made up of the opportunities and decisions that need to be made at the current moment. It’s preparing for the “one day” What books do I need to read/classes do I need to take/who do I need to reach out to? 

Stewarding today well will take us to the "one day". Those impossible and improbable scenarios might become the current situation. Or the “one day” might look nothing like the pictures in our head. Yet if it’s a dream molded by God and the “today” is spent seeking His heart in courageous obedience, it’s guaranteed to be amazing. 

How are you going to leverage your today for the one day?

PS–the show this weekend is Georgia Ballet's world premiere of Alexandre Proia's Four Seasons. Click below for more info

We all have ideas about what our future will look like. The ones further along the timeline, we call dreams. 

I dreamed about dancing on pointe. I dreamed about wearing a tutu. When I listen to the Grand Pas music from Nutcracker, I dream about dancing it one day. I dream about touring an original production with Bluebird. I dream about what the next generation of Jesus following art/artists looks like. 

Dreams are good. Dreams bring us hope. They give us something to work toward. They’re a romanticized, more flexible version of goals. 

It’s when we become so locked in to our version of the picture and how to get there that we run into trouble. We start to block God out and treat the dream like a goal (getting there by our own sheer strength). 

We think He’ll take it away if we loosen our grip and stop micromanaging. What if God tells me to stop dancing altogether? He might…but refusing to let Him direct our steps is an act of rebellion. It’s sin.  

Holding on to dreams is being selfish with our story. It’s refusing to be fully engaged in God’s story. 

Dreams aren’t meant to be bucket-lists. They should be like our lives and hearts–pieces of clay in the hands of the Potter. Jesus has dreams for us too. May He mold our dreams and desires to His. The pruning process will be painful; what we think we want might not be what we really want. But in the end, He’ll blow our minds and we won’t be disappointed. Because when we connect our little stories to the Jesus story our hearts are fueled with purpose. 

Jesus, we want to be fully engaged in your story. Mold these dreams and desires to yours.  Even if we’re scared of handing over these pictures in our minds, we want to want to surrender. Teach us to trust. May we believe you when you say you are a God of immeasurably more. Let us be fulfilled in Your purposes and dreams for our little stories.