My vacation last week provided a lot of material for me to write about. There was the glorious reality of the beauty of the ocean that I already expected from pictures on the Internet. The joy of sharing lunch with my daughter under an umbrella on the sand. The realization of my infinite smallness and infinite worth as I gazed at those tiny coarse grains, knowing that God's children are innumerable to me, and intimately known to Him. More practically, I came away with several food experiences to share, some good, some bad. Big Al's Diner on Roanoke Island has the best guacamole I've ever tasted, and Duck Donuts is worth every penny you spend there. Goombay's and The Rundown are over-priced and under-seasoned, though the koi pond at The Rundown was a treat (and a hazard!!) for the kids.
As I lived through these experiences and mulled over them during the (very long) ride home, I had trouble deciding what aspect of the vacation I wanted to write a post about. Writing about each one would help me to process through them and see them more objectively, but would probably bore you to tears, my dear readers, or scare you away forever. After all, this isn't an online diary. What a scary thought, indeed.
The part of my time away that had the biggest impact on me was the book I took with me. The Hardest Peace: Experiencing Grace in the Midst of Life's Hard by Kara Tippetts was an unexpected gift from my mom, who recently began following Kara's blog, Mundane Faithfulness. Mom joined that community of readers right before Kara died of cancer. Knowing the outcome of Kara's fight profoundly changed how I read her book. Instead of enjoying a breezy read in the warm, beachy sunlight, I found myself curled next to my husband on a deck chair made for one, weeping at the harsh realities of this woman's life, and marveling at her steady commitment to know and experience Jesus and His love ever deeper through it all. In each chapter, Kara unflinchingly told her life story, beginning with childhood and continuing on through her salvation, marriage, diagnosis, and treatment. I've never read anything more real.
Every chapter was like a one-two punch. The hard truths of finding herself with a husband, 4 young children, and cancer. The glorious shining of her faith in Jesus, her reliance on Him. I was saddened. I was convicted. I was made hungry to know Jesus more. I was terrified that this could happen to me, another young mother of young children with dreams and plans and health.
I was also emboldened. In writing this blog I feel both the desire and the burden to be complete. To have my life together, to know what I'm talking about, to be full of wisdom and gracious speech. My reality could not be more different. I'm a believer in Jesus Christ and His finished work on the cross, but many days I struggle to keep my head above the water and continue to believe the gospel. I begin to look at my life so myopically and see my imperfections looming so large that I forget I am looking at them in the shadow of the cross. Wisdom and graciousness is what I want to be true about my life. Anger, selfishness, pride, and a deep need for continuing grace is the truth.
What I learned from Kara is that if I am going to write something I must be honest about it. I must look at things as they are, and not try to gloss over the rough edges, or turn a blind eye to realities that I just rather not see. I learned that to write from a place of strength is really to write from a well of weakness, a well that is open and ready to receive the strength of Jesus, the only true strength that there is. If I am going to write on completeness, I must write in honesty. Honesty that acknowledges I am a daughter of the King, imperfections and all. It wasn't my goodness that drew Him to me, it was His grace that drew me to Him.
I've been freed from the need to present a pleasant, cleaned-up, holy facade. That doesn't mean all my dirty laundry gets hung out in my front yard, but it does mean I won't pretend to be something I am not.
I'm not perfect.
Neither are you.
Jesus is.
I love Him.
That's my reality.
-Ashley
