giving Way

The truth is this, I said to her:

In all these prayed- about decisions so far, I’ve never felt more like

a woman.

{I have a wise friend who told me to write about that amid our conversation… and

I smiled and nodded at her, unsure.)


So God created man in His own image… male and female He created them. And God                                                            blessed them.            ::: Genesis 1

I had mentioned to her who I had been, back then:

:::: and now

in the tumult of the Curse, bearing down on him and aching for who He had made me to be when the Garden was breathing fresh life and holiness.

Genesis 3

I told her… I had been:

less of myself

and less of Him.

And He:::

He had asked me,

in the cool of the day,

in the heat of my fragile independence

Where are you?

And I, with no good answer,

hid from Him.

I hid at my job.

I hid behind money I thought I needed.

I hid thinking over family goals and career goals and

I hid in church- works and smiles

I hid in my unbalanced marriage

all of it, thinking I could make it work :::

strained and stretched at the teetering edges

I hid behind the world

thinking I wanted to do it all.

That I could do it all.

So when the woman saw that the tree was good for food, and that it was a delight to the                                                  eyes… she took…    ::: Genesis 3

Because this world,

that’s what this spinning, upturned, downgraded world says.

Life- lies through hissing teeth:

:::::::::: bondage.

And so, one day, He told me to stop spinning.

and I whispered,

Here I am, Lord.

Nowhere to hide.


and that word:

that word that makes a world- living woman {a woman like me} a tad nervous?



giving way::::

and that was it.

giving way.

Giving way to He who knows me deep and wide.

He who created me from him as his helper.

I will make a helper fit for him…   ::: Genesis 2

He who breathed life- air fresh into the first lungs so that we could breathe Him.


Giving way

to Garden– fresh life.

... and a mist was going up from the land and was watering the whole face of the ground… and the Lord God planted a garden in Eden… and out of the ground the Lord God made to spring up every tree that is pleasant to the sight… ::: Genesis 2

And the truth is this:

I’ve never felt more like a woman.

Set aside the homemaking and the homeschooling and the I’ll never have a minivan and the crafty days and the Pinterest browsing and church- supper baking and the new penchant for a good dishtowel…

This. This is not about that.


Here it is:

I’ve never felt more like a wife to this man who loves me and loves Him.

I’ve never felt more like a mother to these children who teach me while I teach them.

I’ve never felt more like a daughter

to the King of kings.

And it’s not because I quit my job {although, for me, it is}

and it’s not because I teach at home {although, for me, it is}

and it’s not because I spend more time thinking about hospitality {although it is}

and it’s not because I search through grocery sale flyers…

it’s because of


:::: obedience.

I pray, {Lord, in Your mercy and grace,} help me to yearn after more of who I am in You.

I pray, {please, Lord,} help me to love my husband more fully and wholly,

{::: He listens…}

And He.

He encourages and helps me, this independent, kicked-out-of-the-Garden- woman-wife to submit to my husband…

Because I know he toils and seeks after the One who made us.

and when I submit to him,

Wives, submit to your husbands, as is fitting in the Lord.   ::: Colossians 3

the one who leads me in the Word and plays with our children and guides me in my messes and lifts my moods and shares in my prayers and relinquishes to his Father in heaven?

that, in turn,

that encourages me, demands me, to kneel down and yield myself

before Him,

For this is how the holy women who hoped in God used to adorn themselves, by                                                                   submitting…                       ::: 1 Peter 3

and suddenly,

our life breathes together and we walk beside one another and we laugh and we snuggle and we pursue Truth and knowledge and wisdom in a way we hadn’t known…

::::: it’s the flawless dance of Creation He intended before the fruit was touched…

And it’s beautiful.

And there’s this glimpse of Jesus I see.

His love and his sacrifice for His own

how He redeems and fulfills and satisfies:::


how He submits willingly to His Father

and how He calls us to do the same.

and that,

that is not to be ignored.

And this yielding and opening and

giving way 

to Truth:::

is gracefully and simply beautiful.

And my independence?

That thing this world- woman craves and chases when my own deceitful heart gets in the way?

I remember.

I ask Him to help me remember His ultimate act of submission on the cross.

And I have no choice but to fall in – dependence on Him.


and He nurtures and refreshes and emboldens and rallies us to press on…


And I’ve never felt more


Live as people who are free…   ::: 1 Peter 2


My dryer is broken.

One day I ran to the screeching and threw open the door to find our load of laundry torn and blackened and ruined.

Over the years, we have ordered parts for this problem, fixed it, ordered more parts, fixed it…

But this time, we are just letting it sit. Broken.

We think it may be time for a new one.

I have the woodstove, I say to my Love, and the clothes will dry pretty quickly until we get a new dryer. I don’t use a dryer for everything anyway, I say.

We will save on electricity this Winter, too, until it gets warm enough to hang the clothes outside, I say to him, so let’s not try to get a new one quite yet. We have other things we need to take care of and pay for first.

And so I started hanging clothes downstairs on drying racks and on the back of chairs and wherever I could find an elevated spot near the drying warmth of the woodfire.

{I smile when I say:: It kind of adds to the going-back-in-time-homeschooling-breadmaking-working-in-the-home thing we’ve got going on… and it makes me chuckle and makes him tease me when I laugh about it.}

So, everyday, I do at least a load of laundry. A couple of active kids, living in the woods, a husband-mechanic-woodsman-who-likes-to-get-his-hands-dirty, in and out pets and my penchant for clean towels all of the time kind of make for at least a load everyday.

So I wash. So I dry. So I fold.

{note: but I hate to put away.}

and, at the beginning, even though I was the one that said it was fine, I was bemoaning the hanging up of wet, dripping sweaters and  and sheets and blankets, as it was taking time from school, life and other things I thought I need to be or {wanted to be or was too distracted by} doing.

And then it happened slowly, or I should say:::

I realized it slowly…

how much I loved hanging up my laundry… how it slowed me down… how it gifted me time and quietude in the middle of our schedules.. silly? Maybe a little:::

Each early morning, after my load or two was washed clean and rinsed free and spun out and made new again,

The kids would start their chores upstairs and

I would carry the soaked and heavy baskets downstairs and start hanging this dripping pile of mine– the mound piled up in front of me… weighing me down…

Standing near the you-can’t-beat-the-cozy-warmth-of-the-woodstove heat, I would begin.

I would hang a dishcloth sopping with worry over here:

And a shirt stained with joylessness over there:

Maybe pants soggy with too-much-on-my-need-to-get-it-all-done-list:

and here, a pillowcase filled with doubt:

and drape some socks: a hole-y pair of weary and tired-out:

Finding their way out of my hands and into His…

… and hanging the heap up: one by one.

And the soiled hamper of my shortcomings and guilts and sins and empty-heart-spots

would start to empty out, too: one by one.

::::: and I pray.


Continue steadfastly in prayer, being watchful in thanksgiving… :::Colossians 4

I began to find myself praying and petitioning and praising and pinning:::

up my burdens:::

and hanging them up and giving them all:::

to Him and hope-expecting them to dry the weight of it all right out- right there in His presence.

I found time with Him in the still and warmth He mercy-gave me in the middle of my mundane.

The chores humdrum:::

that hum a hopeful, happier heart.

And, today, three months by, my wash has changed me.

::::my washing has changed me.

I look expectantly to the moments when my disheveled and sullied self stands before Him, in the early morning or in the late afternoon or the times in between when

He and I…

we spend time together… doing laundry.

And I stand amazed.

The King of Kings meets me wherever I am, even as I hang up my laundry… and He washes me clean.


Create in me a clean heart, O God, and renew a steadfast spirit within me.  ::: Psalm 51