Sunday, January 13, 2013
New Beginnings for a New Year
I hadn't much thought that a new year would bring about many changes. And I suppose in most ways the first two weeks of the year have met my expectations thoroughly.
Except that I wasn't expecting my email to be hacked.
And I certainly wasn't expecting my list of more than 500 contacts to be permanently deleted.
I can't say that I believe anyone enjoys their email to be hacked or to lose all sorts of information that would be hard to replace. I wasn't overjoyed at first either. Until I realized that this would give me a fresh start. Somehow, the idea of a new beginning gave me a lot of peace and perhaps even a bit of excitement about starting over. And quite honestly, I'm hoping that this fresh start will give me something else ... a cure for writer's block.
It was almost a year ago that the Lord gave me a writing ministry. Well, I like to think of it as a ministry. Mainly, the Lord just allows me to write down the thoughts He gives me while I go about my ordinary, everyday life ... which involves nothing terribly exciting at all. Somehow though, the Lord likes to speak to me through the mundane things of this world. Dirty laundry and piles of unmated socks often teach me more about the Lord than a month of Sunday sermons. Don't ask me how helping my daughter choose her pet beta fish gave me insight into how God sees me. And just when I think I'm going to scream if one more child asks me for food to eat, God sends a hungry boy my way and teaches me a lesson about giving away food that fills more than just an empty stomach.
I suppose that I don't really understand it myself... why God shows up in the middle of my mundane little life. I'm an ordinary woman living a very ordinary life. There is nothing spectacular at all about me or about my family or our home. Yet I am privileged enough to have this amazing relationship with a very EXTRA-ordinary God.
If having a relationship with God isn't the most spectacular thing ever, then I can't imagine anything that would be spectacular. I get to hang out with the Creator of all I see (and all I don't see). I mean, He is right there in the laundry room with me, as I sort out the socks. All I have to do is tune myself to Him, reach out and talk to Him, ask Him to talk to me ... it doesn't matter what I am doing or where I am at. God's with me and I find that a rather incredible way to live my life.
And humbling ... because sometimes He lets me share the stories that make up my ordinary life.
Only sometimes I get scared that I don't have anything worth saying. Actually, it's most of the time. Lately, it has been all of the time.
For the past eight weeks or so, it has been the same way each time I sit down to write ... my hands poised over the keys of my laptop, anxious to type away, only to find that all those words I was thinking in my head are now gone like the wind.
Failure breeds fear. Fear breeds more failure. I've been in a writing rut and I only seemed to be digger myself deeper and deeper into a hole of my own making.
Until my email got hacked and I lost all of my contacts. Over the past 36 hours, God's been teaching me a lot through this not-so-fun circumstance. But the best part has been a new vision.
I've got a new email set up just for my writing contacts. And I'm going to be managing my newsletters through a free subscription service: MailChimp. Below you'll find a subscription form to sign up to receive The Paige Turner. I don't write according to a schedule, but about every 3-6 weeks I write a newsletter. Obviously 8-12 newsletters a year won't cause anyone's inbox to overflow! And it is still free. You can't beat free ... well, unless it is free and also encouraging. :)
If you've enjoyed getting my random newsletters in the past, please fill out a form and sign up! And don't hesitate to share this with a friend who might enjoy being encouraged as well. After all, I think that all ordinary women should be well-aquainted with a very EXTRA-ordinary God!
Blessings,
Paige
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Monday, December 24, 2012
An Extravagant Christmas
It's Christmas eve, and I am overwhelmed. I am not overwhelmed with too much left to do before Christmas morning. I am not overwhelmed with sorrows or anxieties or negative emotions that so often accompany the season. I am not even overwhelmed with too much good food.
Simply, I am overwhelmed by God.
This Christmas was supposed to be a lean Christmas. Financially things are too tight for extravagances. In the past year, my family given up a lot of our wants ... no more cable TV, no more membership to the gym, no more weekly dinners out or coffee dates at the corner coffee shop, no more piano lessons for Nathan.
Financially we were strapped for Christmas as well. I had about $60 to spend on my five children. That's $60 total ... $12 per child. At first I was overwhelmed simply thinking about how I could even begin to manage to put together Christmas with such a tiny amount of money. However, I always liked a good challenge and bargain-shopping can be fun.
In the end, I was amazed at how God blessed my efforts. I got one of my girls a brand new name-brand purse for absolutely free. I found most of my items on sale, in clearance bins, or at bargain/thrift shops. And as I wrapped up the last of the gifts, I knew my prayers had been answered.
And yet ... only $12 per child. I knew deep-down that as amazing as it was that God had provided small gifts for the children to open, it wasn't going to look like much, especially when compared to what our children's other parents would give to them. And I admit to fighting back those worries of how our meager Christmas might compare.
Tonight at about 9:30, Jon and I finished praying with our kids, tucking them under covers and kissing their foreheads. Lights were dimmed and the house was quiet. And in that stillness, our doorbell rang.
Jon went to answer it, but instead of finding a person he discovered a pile of presents. Gifts upon gifts ... more than one for each child, several for our family, even something wrapped up for Jon and for me. There was a bag of fun snack foods, the kinds that I never buy anymore on our tight budget, the very sort that make it feel like Christmas.
I am overwhelmed. This was supposed to be a lean Christmas. I didn't have any hope of putting extravagance under our tree this year.
A little over 2000 years ago, the first Christmas looked sort of bleak as well. No room in the inn. A girl and her husband ... no relatives to help them welcome their baby into the world. Instead, God showed the entire world His extravagance ... for lying in that manger, wrapped in swaddling clothes, filling the night with sweet baby cries was His perfect gift. Angels from heaven came unannounced to the shepherds, proclaiming His birth and inviting them to come see the baby and worship. The shepherds found the baby, worshipped and then left, retelling the story of how extravagance came to Bethlehem and to all the world that night. And later the magnificent star led magi from the East to visit, bringing gifts fit only for the King of Kings.
Tonight there is extravagance under our tree for God sent someone to our home unannounced (like the angels came to the shepherds), bearing gifts (like the magi). And I'm overwhelmed by the extravagance of Christmas all over again.
Simply, I am overwhelmed by God.
This Christmas was supposed to be a lean Christmas. Financially things are too tight for extravagances. In the past year, my family given up a lot of our wants ... no more cable TV, no more membership to the gym, no more weekly dinners out or coffee dates at the corner coffee shop, no more piano lessons for Nathan.
Financially we were strapped for Christmas as well. I had about $60 to spend on my five children. That's $60 total ... $12 per child. At first I was overwhelmed simply thinking about how I could even begin to manage to put together Christmas with such a tiny amount of money. However, I always liked a good challenge and bargain-shopping can be fun.
In the end, I was amazed at how God blessed my efforts. I got one of my girls a brand new name-brand purse for absolutely free. I found most of my items on sale, in clearance bins, or at bargain/thrift shops. And as I wrapped up the last of the gifts, I knew my prayers had been answered.
And yet ... only $12 per child. I knew deep-down that as amazing as it was that God had provided small gifts for the children to open, it wasn't going to look like much, especially when compared to what our children's other parents would give to them. And I admit to fighting back those worries of how our meager Christmas might compare.
Tonight at about 9:30, Jon and I finished praying with our kids, tucking them under covers and kissing their foreheads. Lights were dimmed and the house was quiet. And in that stillness, our doorbell rang.
Jon went to answer it, but instead of finding a person he discovered a pile of presents. Gifts upon gifts ... more than one for each child, several for our family, even something wrapped up for Jon and for me. There was a bag of fun snack foods, the kinds that I never buy anymore on our tight budget, the very sort that make it feel like Christmas.
I am overwhelmed. This was supposed to be a lean Christmas. I didn't have any hope of putting extravagance under our tree this year.
A little over 2000 years ago, the first Christmas looked sort of bleak as well. No room in the inn. A girl and her husband ... no relatives to help them welcome their baby into the world. Instead, God showed the entire world His extravagance ... for lying in that manger, wrapped in swaddling clothes, filling the night with sweet baby cries was His perfect gift. Angels from heaven came unannounced to the shepherds, proclaiming His birth and inviting them to come see the baby and worship. The shepherds found the baby, worshipped and then left, retelling the story of how extravagance came to Bethlehem and to all the world that night. And later the magnificent star led magi from the East to visit, bringing gifts fit only for the King of Kings.
Tonight there is extravagance under our tree for God sent someone to our home unannounced (like the angels came to the shepherds), bearing gifts (like the magi). And I'm overwhelmed by the extravagance of Christmas all over again.
Monday, December 17, 2012
Wednesday, November 7, 2012
Wednesday, September 19, 2012
Wednesday, March 21, 2012
Pridefully Fearful
It's been a while since my last blog post. I can think of a million and one explanations. However, I must admit none of my reasons can sum up the main cause, one which I can barely whisper ... I am afraid.
I am afraid of sitting down to write only to find there is nothing left to say.
I am afraid I will never write anything else touching or compelling.
I am afraid God will ask me to write something hard.
I am afraid people I love with disagree with me or not like my writing.
I am afraid my words will go unread for no one will find reason to enjoy what I've written.
I am afraid others will like what I've written and expect me to write more.
I am afraid of future success.
Fear is a terrible thing. One thing I know is fear is not of God. Long ago, someone told me the words "do not be afraid" or "do not fear" appear 365 times in the Bible, or once for each day of the year. If it is important enough for God to mention 365 times, then I suppose it is a truth He wants me to embrace.
And yet I still find myself needing frequent reminders to let go of my fear for it is a huge stumbling block, sneaking in when I least expect it. Usually I bump into fear while I am still on my mountaintops, tripping and then falling to the valley of despair far below.
Three weeks ago, I spent a lovely weekend at a writer's retreat. It was a God-ordained trip from beginning to end. Fingerprints of God's orchestration were over each piece. I came home encouraged, with a plan to write and an eagerness to match. Within 48 hours of returning, I had written a devotional newsletter which I emailed to over 300 friends. The response was overwhelming. Emails upon emails of encouraging words. For a few days, I was high on cloud nine, beaming from the brightness of success and ready to see where God would take me.
As the intense joy of first success floated away and the hard work of moving forward crept in, a dark cloud of fear swept in over me. Now I am afraid.
What if I cannot reproduce another devotional, especially now that I've committed to writing one each month?
What if I manage to write the next one but no one enjoys it?
What if this grows to be a thing that is too big for me to handle?
What if I am not ready to write for the purpose of sharing God's love with others?
What if I don't know what I am talking about and I lead people the wrong way?
What if ... what if ... what if...
There is only one source for all that fear and for each of those questions: Satan. He sneaks in to steal joy, to sow seeds of fear, to uproot God-given desires, to rob us of the pleasure of doing what we love for the glory of our Savior.
Tonight I pondered being afraid. I considered my fear of success as well as my fear of failure. This much I know is true ... I'd rather succeed at failing by giving it my best shot than fail at succeeding because I wouldn't even try.
The best way I know to succeed is to seek the Lord, for in Him resides my only hope. In 2 Chronicles 26:5, it is said of King Uzziah, "He sought God during the days of Zechariah, who instructed him in the fear of God. As long as he sought the LORD, God gave him success." Later on, Uzziah becomes prideful, believing his success is due to his own great abilities. It is said in the Proverbs, "Pride goes before a fall." Pride brings Uzziah to his downfall as king, and pride is what prevents me from writing.
My fear of not being able to write anymore is not based on facts nor do they have any validity. It is simply the direct result of my own personal pride. I think that I've done a great job writing and I give all the accolades to myself, therefore I now worry I will not again produce something of a similar quality.
The truth is that I can't reproduce another devotional. In fact, I can't do much of anything on my own, except for mess up. But praise God I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me. (Philippians 4:13)
Tonight I am on my knees, praying for forgiveness of giving into fear, allowing it grow in my heart. I am giving the act of writing words (which I love so much) back to God. He gave the gift of writing to me and allows me to enjoy putting words on paper. Like Hannah who gave her longed-for baby boy back to God, I will give all of that which was given to me back to the One who is known as the Giver of All Good Gifts.
This is my prayer: Whatever measure of success that I have through writing, whether is is big or small, whether it is published or never even makes it to my personal blog, may each word that comes from me be for the glory of God. To God be the glory for great things He has done.
I am afraid of sitting down to write only to find there is nothing left to say.
I am afraid I will never write anything else touching or compelling.
I am afraid God will ask me to write something hard.
I am afraid people I love with disagree with me or not like my writing.
I am afraid my words will go unread for no one will find reason to enjoy what I've written.
I am afraid others will like what I've written and expect me to write more.
I am afraid of future success.
Fear is a terrible thing. One thing I know is fear is not of God. Long ago, someone told me the words "do not be afraid" or "do not fear" appear 365 times in the Bible, or once for each day of the year. If it is important enough for God to mention 365 times, then I suppose it is a truth He wants me to embrace.
And yet I still find myself needing frequent reminders to let go of my fear for it is a huge stumbling block, sneaking in when I least expect it. Usually I bump into fear while I am still on my mountaintops, tripping and then falling to the valley of despair far below.
Three weeks ago, I spent a lovely weekend at a writer's retreat. It was a God-ordained trip from beginning to end. Fingerprints of God's orchestration were over each piece. I came home encouraged, with a plan to write and an eagerness to match. Within 48 hours of returning, I had written a devotional newsletter which I emailed to over 300 friends. The response was overwhelming. Emails upon emails of encouraging words. For a few days, I was high on cloud nine, beaming from the brightness of success and ready to see where God would take me.
As the intense joy of first success floated away and the hard work of moving forward crept in, a dark cloud of fear swept in over me. Now I am afraid.
What if I cannot reproduce another devotional, especially now that I've committed to writing one each month?
What if I manage to write the next one but no one enjoys it?
What if this grows to be a thing that is too big for me to handle?
What if I am not ready to write for the purpose of sharing God's love with others?
What if I don't know what I am talking about and I lead people the wrong way?
What if ... what if ... what if...
There is only one source for all that fear and for each of those questions: Satan. He sneaks in to steal joy, to sow seeds of fear, to uproot God-given desires, to rob us of the pleasure of doing what we love for the glory of our Savior.
Tonight I pondered being afraid. I considered my fear of success as well as my fear of failure. This much I know is true ... I'd rather succeed at failing by giving it my best shot than fail at succeeding because I wouldn't even try.
The best way I know to succeed is to seek the Lord, for in Him resides my only hope. In 2 Chronicles 26:5, it is said of King Uzziah, "He sought God during the days of Zechariah, who instructed him in the fear of God. As long as he sought the LORD, God gave him success." Later on, Uzziah becomes prideful, believing his success is due to his own great abilities. It is said in the Proverbs, "Pride goes before a fall." Pride brings Uzziah to his downfall as king, and pride is what prevents me from writing.
My fear of not being able to write anymore is not based on facts nor do they have any validity. It is simply the direct result of my own personal pride. I think that I've done a great job writing and I give all the accolades to myself, therefore I now worry I will not again produce something of a similar quality.
The truth is that I can't reproduce another devotional. In fact, I can't do much of anything on my own, except for mess up. But praise God I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me. (Philippians 4:13)
Tonight I am on my knees, praying for forgiveness of giving into fear, allowing it grow in my heart. I am giving the act of writing words (which I love so much) back to God. He gave the gift of writing to me and allows me to enjoy putting words on paper. Like Hannah who gave her longed-for baby boy back to God, I will give all of that which was given to me back to the One who is known as the Giver of All Good Gifts.
This is my prayer: Whatever measure of success that I have through writing, whether is is big or small, whether it is published or never even makes it to my personal blog, may each word that comes from me be for the glory of God. To God be the glory for great things He has done.
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