Heather Holleman's Blog, page 199

Healing Comparison and Fear of Missing Out

I still remind myself of the truths of Seated with Christ every new morning. It’s not just for me; it’s because I’m raising teen girls. We need to know we’re seated at the Greatest Table with the Greatest King now more than ever. The lies of the culture abound: we need this vacation, this kind of house, this kind of wardrobe, this kind of career, and this kind of life in order to have that seat at the table we think brings life.

That table doesn’t bring life at all. It brings death of the worst kind. The only path to peace and fulfillment is the one that leads to Jesus–at His table in the heavenly realms (Ephesians 2:6).

If you know someone who needs this message, Moody Publishers has a great discount until the end of July on Seated with Christ. For college students headed back to school or for anyone who fears they’re missing out, I pray that Seated helps heal that wound of comparison.

What’s Best for the Team

This week, I’m volunteering as a “huddle coach” for our church’s MEGA Sports Camp. I learned a wonderful point about living in a way that’s “best for the team.” In other words, sometimes you sit out because that’s what’s best for the team. Sometimes, the coach puts you in the game because that’s best. Either way, your attitude centers around what’s best for the team.

I consider how whatever God’s doing in my own life–in seasons of sitting out or playing center field–I’m surrendering to Him and believing that what’s happening is best for the team. We don’t work alone in ministry; all over the world we together serve the Lord. And we do what’s best for the team.

I loved watching the children learn about sportsmanship and how a coach decides what’s best for the team. We trust that Coach and learn to work on our team.

The Little Claws

I return from all my summer travels and settle into the home routine. I pause by the second robin’s nest that still catches me by surprise. It’s so late in the summer, and yet here they are.

I notice the little claws. And I realize I want to show you these claws.

I consider how this earth holds nearly 7.2 billion people, and only I observe these claws. Nobody else lives in this house, by this bush, in this way that I live. So I thought I’d show you what I saw and how I was feeling.

That’s it. That’s what I do as a writer, teacher, and speaker. I present a viewpoint unshared by others simply because I exist.

As do you.

It’s astonishing to think of how precious your ordinary observations become when considered truly unique in a world of billions. You will notice a thousand beautiful things that I will never see because I am not you in your space. No one in this world sees what you see in the way that you see it.

I suppose that’s why I love teaching writing and reading the thousands of essays I read. It’s because I’m reading a one-of-a-kind viewpoint.

And today, I offer you a viewpoint into a muddy nest where I saw the tiny claws of the robins.

Dreaming Something New

I love to keep dreaming of new, creative, challenging projects. When August hits, it’s time to wonder about what the new academic year will bring. What will challenge me? What can I accomplish? What can I study? What expertise might I develop? Is this the autumn of homemade bread and pasta? Is this the time for new book proposals, new house designs, new fitness goals? Is this the year where our family learns a new game or establishes a new tradition?

New. Fresh. Creative. I’m stirring the inside juices. What about you? When August comes, it’s time to put legs to a dream.

Floating

Finally, the Turtle

New Discoveries: Some Kind of Cricket Frog

Tiny creatures jump along the wooded road beside me. Smaller than a watermelon seed, they hop like little crickets. When I look closer, I see tiny frogs.

Tiny frogs!

(They might be toads. I’m not sure, but I take a picture and set my mind to wonder.)

After researching a bit, I think I’ve happened upon southern cricket frogs. 

Now I think about all those tiny things on my path that I hardly notice. I think about frogs and turtles and the joy of childhood exploration and discovery. Today, I’ll look for turtles.

A Little Bakery with a Coconut Cake

We’re celebrating a birthday for Grandpa, and we need a coconut cake. It’s his favorite! I doubt I’ll find one in this small town, but I do.

In a little bakery, we find a perfect coconut cake just waiting for us to purchase. I forgot that in the south, you’ll most likely find little bakeries with coconut cakes just waiting for you. So along with the fried chicken, green beans, fresh corn, ripe peaches from the roadside stand, and deviled eggs, we’ll have a southern crown jewel: coconut cake.

 

Sandwich Flair

I have learned with great delight that the toasted pimento cheese BLT stands as one of my favorite Southern Sandwiches. Gooey, crispy, joyful.

When It’s Enough that Jesus Died for You: The Story of Lidie Edmunds

I’m sitting in a small church in the country–the kind with an entryway large enough for four people, the kind with a congregation of thirty faithful souls, the kind that stands by the side of the road that makes you wonder what goes on in that beautiful little place. It’s the kind of place where you want to sit and listen to the stories of all who come in the doors. How did they come to this church? Why do they stay? What is life like here in this small town? Can we be friends? You in this town and me from my town?

It’s time to sing the final hymn. We all turn to the page, although most people, I imagine, know the words by heart.

I find myself so curious about what kind of person could write, “I need no other argument, I need no other plea. It is enough that Jesus died, and that He died for me.”

I discover something precious about the life that penned these words that Jesus was enough. 

Lidie Edmunds, also known as E.E. Hewitt, wrote many poems and hymns about Jesus in the midst of great personal pain, loss, and disappointment. Her vibrant life suddenly changed when she endured a spinal injury that kept her bedridden just as her wonderful teaching career started.

Instead of bitterness and sadness, Lidie studied literature and wrote beautiful hymns to the Lord. She wanted to make a difference in the lives of others even from her bed of pain. I think of her life in Philadelphia in the mid-1800’s and how different her future became from the one she must have imagined when she graduated as valedictorian of her high school.

But her injury taught her what we all will indeed come to know at some point: it is enough that Jesus died. Her hymn to the Lord fortifies me against an unknown future where I’m uncertain of what kind of pain, loss, or disappointment awaits. I know God holds my life in His hands, and I’m beginning to finally learn that this is enough.

My faith has found a resting place, not in device nor creed;

I trust the ever-living One, his wounds for me shall plead.

I need no other argument, I need no other plea,

It is enough that Jesus died, and that he died for me.

— Lidie H. Edmunds, c. 1891