My Undressed Heart {And Easter}. ~ The Grace Between

My Undressed Heart {And Easter}.

{Oh hey. It’s me. Did ya forget about me? I promise I didn’t forget about you. We are in survival mode over here, which does not include thoughtful, lovingly crafted blog posts. It does include me near-comatose post bedtime routine, which is my normal writing time. I’ll be back soon-ish, I really will. I miss writing and I miss you.}

Happy Resurrection Sunday.


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I know it’s almost over here, but I have to tell you this.


We made it out the door this morning sort-of-almost-not-late. We were color coordinated. MY HAIR WAS FIXED.


I even made J Girl her Easter dress … an almost-annual tradition. In concert with sewing it at the last minute, of course.


Some {non-judgmental} context … we don’t “do” Egg hunts, Easter baskets or the Easter Bunny. Matching outfits is the lone non-Jesus related thing we do on this day … remnants, I suppose of a childhood where my mother made us matching dresses every year and fighting over picking out the fabric was a high point every year. {We didn’t get a whole lot of brand new dresses. This was big.}. And, let’s face it, I kind of want to be her when I grow up.

So we made it out the door all navy-blue like.


But I came here on my poor, neglected blog to tell you this.

DON’T BE FOOLED. {Some finger-up-nose action for posterity}.


The best way I can tell you is to repost my FB status from yesterday. {Caveat – I am a little more informal on FB – meet me over there sometime. I’m pretty funny, if I may say so. And I may, ’cause it’s my blog.}

“Okay-I am just going to say this … no judgement {or sarcasm} here, just facts …. I love using FB to keep up with our friends … at this point they are scattered across the globe. And I love seeing all your kiddos and their milestones, and the generally awesome fun parenting moments y’all have. So this weekend, I sure did love seeing you do seder meals and egg hunts and egg dying and resurrection gardens and the like. I love that you are teaching your littles about Jesus. BUT. Imma tell you about my weekend because I KNOW there are folks out there whose picture looks a little more like mine {utter chaos}. So – I read the kids the Easter story {once} sometime last week, mentioned Good Friday to Jaime once on Friday, ditched the two older kids at a birthday party to attend a Good Friday service IN PEACE, spent a LARGE portion of my day today apologizing to Jaime for yelling at her, spent the rest of my day in mortal combat with Asher, and also apologized A LOT to sick Jack-baby, whom I couldn’t carry 24/7. There was nary an egg or garden in sight, secretly I wished EVERYONE WOULD STOP TOUCHING ME, and/or screaming at me. And bedtime?? Fugheddaboudit. A good solid hour of warring, a sad six year old who needed ALL THE THINGS RIGHT THEN, one traumatized baby in a laundry basket, a toddler in a full nelson to cut his dragon nails, and I made all three of them cry. PARENTING Y’ALL.”

So this morning … we were sharply dressed on the outside, but friends, my heart is naked and raw.

And I was sitting in church mid-skirmish with the Wee Man, and it occurred to me … if I’m going to be undressed and ragged inside, church is the best place to be. Not just padded chairs and white siding kind of church, but nestled in the body church. Community kind of church. Worshipping the Risen King together. Rejoicing, because HE IS WHO HE SAYS HE IS.

It changes EVERYTHING. It covers my bare and tattered soul with hope. He is RISEN.

And this life – the horrendous, the hard, the treasured, and the torn up bits – ALL OF IT … for His glory. 



*Full disclosure. It wasn’t all bad. I did make the J Girl her dress. I had some righteous Wee Man snuggles on Sat afternoon in a moment of peace, and I had thirty glorious minutes in our new-to-us hammock during the boys’ naptime today. Check ye olde Instagram feed for the evidence. Dear friends stepped into the gap all weekend long to love on me and my children. My Dad is here. Skype dates with my baby sis’ and her littles. As always, counting it all joy. 



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