On Being Hijacked

Oh my goodness!!! Oh my goodness!!! HI!!! HI!!! HI!!! Just short of three weeks since I’ve been here and did you miss me?! :)


Listen . . .

I have so much to tell you and the fire I feel inside is burning a hole straight through my chest, trying to get out before the whole of me goes up in flame.

It’s just that the challenge will be in the delivery because not in a very long time have I felt so utterly engulfed by the presence of the Holy Spirit and when a body is this full with THE unspeakable energy, how do you write about it?! God, even now it feels like Someone is drifting up the back of my throat, whorling and floating in and around this flesh-vessel like fanciful wreaths of smoke or curling wisps of fog, or both. My friends – near and far, cyber and otherwise – something is happening over here. This family, for lack of a better word, is experiencing a revival and strange things are happening to all of us.

Amen, I tell you. Amen.

And if I were to imaginatively travel backwards to pinpoint a beginning to this phenomenon, I would tell you that the thread of whatever this is started a few months ago, for no apparent reason. But if someone were to pointedly ask me what really catalyzed it, I would have to say that it was you. And you. And you. And all of you who poured your hearts and prayers so fervently over our heads—a great waterfall if I’ve ever been under one. I am {we are} still residually flooded by the cascading torrent of God’s goodness being expressed for us by His {and our} people. Thank-you. Because maybe, just maybe something more then the specifics of our prayer request was being responded to. I do believe that YOU ALL ushered in the beginning of a movement for us—Austin, Erika, Gabe, Seth and Jude—and nothing has ever been the same since, or, I am quite certain, will ever be the same again. In fact, 200 million light years from now, we will still look over our celestial-dusted shoulders and remember a season when this “number 5 family” was completely hijacked by the Spirit of the ever-living God.

In keeping with this prayer-induced momentum, we are on our knees praying and on our backs praying and on our faces praying and quite often on our feet praying and we just can’t help it. Evening prayers with Austin are too profound for words, a torrent of belly-deep emotion and tears. Morning meditation with the boys turns into the most sacred and powerful supplication services I’ve ever been a part of—all of us weeping and shouting and fighting and believing and putting our God-believing stakes in the spiritual fabric of a New Kingdom. Last wednesday our meditation of almost two hours felt like 2 minutes and my young guys, who usually max-out with 25 minutes of devotion, couldn’t believe how fast the clock ticked by. I’m telling you: revival. When “real time” ceases to exist? REVIVAL. And Gabriel tells me that when I pray he feels like “Jesus is spilling out of my mouth and it makes his heart leap”. Seth tells me, too, that when he hears me pray, “it touches something inside him and makes him want to pray too”. Little Jude writes an unprompted thank-you for our wall of gratitude and it says this: “My mom’s holy prayers”. My 7 year old says he’s thankful for “holy prayers”. GAAAAAAAH!!!!!

On top of that, they are learning how to pray in the Spirit. Oh my heart, you should hear them shouting their little hearts out and believing God for things, dreaming alongside heavenly beings and determining that they “WILL MAKE A DIFFERENCE!!!” And it’s not me telling them to say or do anything, these boys are RESPONDING to something happening around them and inside them.

I would swear to you (though I doubt I need to) that I can see the dumbfounded, scratch-your-skull look on the faces of all the dark things.

And during the night watch when everyone else is sleeping, I’m kneeling on the living room couch, facing the window and looking out over our street-lit section of this New Haven city and whispering the, “My God, my God . . . what is happening?! To what end? Towards what Master plan?” We do not have all the answers, but we’re picking little pieces of purpose out of the air and weaving them together and this tapestry coming together at our fingertips? Is colored full of ideas and dreams and imaginings . . . Dare I say that we have a concept that could become a movement? Oh, and that’s just ONE part of what’s cooking in our collective hearts.

I can’t wait to tell you about it!!! I’ll be back as soon as I can!!!



{Image Source :: Pinterest}


Wherein Things Don’t Go As Planned

I had plans for today. Nothing grandiose, mind you, but I had hoped it would go according to my will.

The week behind included all 3  young hooligans taking turns with a violent vomit virus, one houseguest swinging in for a visit and Memorial Day celebrations. Consecutive to the craziness, yesterday was spent catching up on housework, bills and errands just so today could be free for me to take the day slow, enjoy the Little-ins’, drink tea and write the 2nd part to the cliffhanger I left you with last week.

It was not to be . . .

Because Jude happened to our day.

What happened?

“Jude happened.”

It’s a common expression around these parts.

“Who broke the glasses?!?!?”


“Why is their permanent marker ALL over the floor?!?!?”


“What happened to my flowers?!?!?”


Today, Jude happened to himself. He sliced his forearm wide open and we still can’t quite figure out how . . . He says he fell out of the tree fort and caught it on a screw sticking out of a board on his way down. The damage was deep and very bloody because he cut the veins right-close to his wrist.

The screams curdled my blood and raised the hair on my neck and gave me so bad a-shakes I almost fell down the stairs trying to get to him. I’m still unnerved after 4 hours in the emergency room, bellowing to break the blood vessels in his face, two numbing shots and 7 stitches.

Yeah, I would say the day didn’t go as envisioned, but we did have an excuse to go out for ice-cream. And I’m really grateful that my little buddy is okay.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I still have to clean the blood-pool off the floor. And I’ll be back real soon to write part 2 of Wherein My Heart Changes for all of you that are still gripping your girdles.

Your Friend With The Haywire Plans,