Hi loves!!

Guess what? I’m relocating. From here on out you can find updates on my life at:

tayinreallife.blogspot.com

Can’t WAIT to see you there:)

Disclaimer: This was actually written last Thursday, but for editing purposes, was not posted until today. References to “today” actually mean Thursday. Not that you probably actually care…)

I am so very broken tonight. When it comes to these things, I try so hard to stay positive, but I don’t have it in me today. I  believe Father for the promise in Rom. 8:28, I do, but this is one of those times I carry to him my broken little heart, weeping as I say I simply do not understand.

I hope you won’t think of this as melodramatic. To be honest, I’m quite shocked at myself for reacting this way. If nothing else, I trust the mommas reading this will understand. (disclaimer 2: I am NOT a mother myself. I swear.) Allow me to back up and explain.

On October 7, 2010, I met the love of my life. She came to me at just six weeks old, and I will never forget the first time I saw her. She was sound asleep under what became her very favorite green crochet blankie, and all I remember thinking was that I never knew a human being could be that small.

Ellen was a doll to be sure, and I had just been hired as her nanny. I have no doubt this was a God thing, because I had been searching for a job for a few months, and I was COMPLETELY unqualified for this one. My only experience with babies was making faces at them from a few pews back during church, so aside from thinking they were adorable, I hadn’t the faintest idea what to do with one.

Much to my shock, Ellen’s mother placed the baby in my arms after only five minutes of my arrival and quickly ran out to work. I had no idea what to do with her, but I began to learn as I went. We spent a lot of time rocking and reading (The very first book we read together was- I kid you not- Gone with the Wind.) and I sang to her often. To this day, she is the only audience who actually smiled when I sang. I also found that she loved being propped up on my legs. We would sit like this all the time while I talked and she made faces back at me. I took this picture during this very routine on our first afternoon together. The look on that face just screams Woman, who are you and WHY do you talk so funny??

Ellen and I spent countless hours together, especially in those first few months. Her mother is an attorney, and just a few days after Ellen was born, one of her cases was sent to the US supreme court. An exciting time, no doubt, but nearly impossible with a newborn on your hands. In the months during that case, Ellen and I spent countless hours together as I learned by trial and error how to care for a baby. I began to pick up on what she loved and what she hated, how to make her laugh and how to make her take a nap. And during those first few months, I fell head over heels in love.

Today, almost two years after our very first afternoon together, I had to say goodbye to Ellen for the last time. A few weeks ago, her parents informed me that they would be taking new jobs in Maine. They were scheduled to leave at the beginning of July, so when I left for camp, I would probably not ever see Ellen again.

I’m sure you can figure out how this went down today. Normally, Ellen is the one throwing a temper tantrum, so when her dad came home from work to pick her up, I don’t think he was expecting to see me in tears instead. We aren’t talking about graceful tears either. My red face was covered in a mixture of snot and mascara (gross, I know.) and I struggled to make coherent sentences.  I don’t really recall the last time I cried that hard. In fact, I don’t really remember the last time I cried at all. It is so unlike me, so I think I was more surprised than anyone at my reaction.

Never in my life did I ever think I could love someone as much as I love that little girl, and knowing I will probably never see her again on this side of eternity is more than I can wrap my head around right now. I have witnessed almost every first in her life, from the first time she held her head up alone, to first bites of solid food, first steps and first words. I taught the child to roll over, for crying out loud! (This process is far more complicated than it sounds and relied heavily on live demonstrations by me. I am not ashamed.)

As I reflect on our time together, I now see that Father was using it as one giant object lesson. In a practical sense, I have learned as much about caring for a child as a new parent would (congrats to my future first born…you will not have to be the guinea pig in your baby years).  But more than that, I have learned what giving and receiving unconditional love is all about. I would go so far as to say I’ve gotten the best glimpse a human can get of the way that Father loves his children.

Throughout the tantrums that seemed to have no solution, the hours and hours of the same Elmo DVD on repeat, and even an episode of being pooped on, there was not a moment I thought that Ellen was anything less than the most wonderful baby on earth. If ever I doubted that God loved me fiercely even when I did idiotic things, Ellen taught me that it isn’t even possible. Unconditional love just doesn’t work that way. 

Ellen during one of our many afternoon naps.

The sweet thing was, Ellen seemed just as mesmerized by me as I was by her. I didn’t have to do a thing to earn it…we were best friends and that was that. She took delight in the simplest things; touching (and accidentally pulling) my hair as often as she could get her hands on it, discovering that I too had a belly button just like she did, and kissing my face as often as she could. She once fell asleep on the guest bed while sucking on MY thumb rather than her own. The girl who will replace me has a lot to learn.

Holding Ellen while she slept was the best of all. I loved listening to her quite baby snores and knowing that she wouldn’t nap anywhere else because she loved to cuddle with me; those moments were like hugs from God. Oh how he loves me! Even more, he wants me to take the same delight in him. God WANTS you to be mesmerized by him, wants you to display your affections, and wants you to take comfort in the protection of his arms. I so often fail to lavish that love back on him.

So if you happen to pray for me, please lift me up in the days ahead. I didn’t know this was going to hurt the way it does. My goodness, I’m going to miss that girl.

If y’all know me at all, you know I have a deep love for the twitter. I suppose its because my mind runs about a zillion miles an hour at any given point in the day, and sometimes I just don’t have anyone to share it with. My sweet Ellen is the love of my life, but conversations with a two year old are mostly one sided (I pour out my soul to her, and her only advice is, of course, “Elmo”). Twittering seems to cut down on all the junk in my head. Although I should mention, some rando did tweet at me claiming that he would rather follow a fake account for someone’s dog than me. To each his own, I suppose.

But the other reason I love the twitter is that it allows me to get inside other people’s heads. I’m random, and I love people who are. My favorite tweets are not news articles or sports updates, but those that allow me to dip into someone’s thoughts and heart. Not only does twitter allow me to do this with my friends, but with celebrities as well. Its fun to be connected with with such a broad array of people all across the world at any given time.

Now, I must say, my very favorite tweets come from my life long girl crush, Beth Moore. I LOVE the woman, in a totally heterosexual, I want to be her and be her best friend simultaneously kind of way.  She’s from Texas. She has phenomenal hair. She talks just like me. The woman carries a shotgun for pete’s sake! What’s not to love?? Needless to say, I hang on Beth’s every tweet. I watch for them constantly. Sometimes they’re lighthearted, and sometimes the woman can communicate a life changing truth in a mere 140 characters. She blows my mind.

She did it again on Saturday. That afternoon, my twitter best friend said this:

“On a walk thinking about how once you’ve seen a real snake, every old stick begins to look like a snake. Sometimes, its just a stick.”

I’ve been chewing on that one for several days now. Its probably because I can relate so very well. You see, there is a small hole in the step of my porch just large enough for a snake to fit through, and like clockwork every March, a family of garden snakes takes up residence under my front porch. Now, I try to be manly and independent in most things, but when I see a snake, I scream like the girl I am and run like heck. Shoot, I don’t even like looking at pictures of them. So after I catch sight of them in the spring, I become petrified of mowing. I know, I know, they’re more scared of me than I am of them. I don’t really buy that (even if a lawnmower is standing between the two of us). So when I do work up my nerve to get out and cut the grass, every single stick I run into turns into a monstrous rattlesnake. I scream. I run. Sometimes I hit the brink of hyperventilation. When I come to see that its really just a fallen tree limb, I move back into my work until I come across another and repeat the routine.

Its really no way to live.

See, once you’ve encountered something terrifying in your life, something truly devastating that rattles you to the core, its normal to be shaken. Its expected that one would proceed with caution. But when the fear of crossing another snake keeps us from taking care of business, aren’t we missing out on the life Father has called us to?

There’s really an underlying problem in it all. I don’t think its the snake we are afraid of so much. In my life, sometimes I struggle to believe that Father really wants good for me. From my simple, childish perspective, “good” isn’t always the hand I’ve been dealt. But to live in constant fear of crossing another monster, we’re calling scripture a lie. Father promises his children that he has plans for our good and not our harm (Jer. 29:11) and he promises a life of abundance (John 10:10).

The Lord never promised a life of ease. He never promised one of safety in the human sense. But he did promise that he works ALL things together for good (Rom. 8:28). When thinking back to January’s Passion Conference, I am often reminded of some of the most profound words I have ever heard, which were brought from author and Bible teach Christine Caine. In light of dangerous situations, Christine said this:

The end goal of a Christian’s life should never be to arrive at death as safely as possible.

Safety in this life isn’t what I’m after. God’s glory in all circumstances; now THAT’S what I want to chase. I don’t want to live in fear. I don’t want to expect my loving Father to do me harm. He said he wants good for me, and that’s a PROMISE. The dangers we perceive, sometimes they’re not really that scary at all. Sometimes, y’all, that snake in the yard is just a little old stick.

Why is the Lord’s voice sometimes so very clear and other times, so very, very difficult to discern? Why, when I seem to need it the most, am I having such a difficult time hearing him tonight?

Scream at me Father. Please, scream it at me. Don’t leave me to figure it out alone…

I’ve been blessed with some really awesome, really encouraging friends lately. There is one in particular that really knows how to challenge me in my walk, and I am so blessed to know this guy. As I was talking to him last night, he began to tell me about a sort of mentor in his life (who happens to be Michael Card…does it get much cooler than that? I say no). Anyway, this guy used to read a book of the Bible every day. That’s right…an entire book. Every day. Talk about serious commitment.

Anyway, as I was having my time with the Lord this morning, I had an interesting thought. How cool would it be to read all four gospels in the week leading up to Easter? It seems a bit ambitious, but I’ll actually have quite a bit of free time this week. Because the General Assembly is off for veto days, I don’t have to go to Frankfort at all this week. That means two whole days I don’t have to do anything. Surely I can knock this out, right?

There is something about springtime that makes the story of Jesus seem a little sweeter to me. For the life of me, I don’t know why. Maybe its because it brings fond memories of hearing the story of Calvary as a child. Maybe its simply the reminder of new life. Regardless, I love to read accounts of my savior at this time of year. I think this is the perfect time to give this little challenge a whirl.

I say all of this not elevate myself. In all honesty, I know if I’ve told others about my goals, I’ll be more likely to actually follow through (I’m a bit stubborn like that). You’re serving as accountability, my friend! Are you interested in joining me? This could be fun! I’ll be sure to let you know how it goes!

Several years ago during a Wednesday night youth group meeting, our leader asked an unusual question of each of us. Though I have since forgotten the context of the lesson, the question has remained in my mind many years later, and is one I frequently use when teaching on subjects like integrity. The question was this:

“When you reach the end of your life, what do you want your closest friends to say about you?”

My list was long, and it continues to change as I grow older and closer to the Lord. I won’t bore you with all of the details, but I will say that one virtue that has remained at the top of the list is humility. As someone who struggles with the nasty sin of pride in many, many ways, I admire those who exude meekness and humility in the way they carry themselves, approach conflict, and treat others. In my opinion, humble hearts are the most beautiful kind, and I deeply desire to be a woman of humility.

You know how the old saying goes though…Be careful what you wish for, because you just might get it.

I’m finding humility, much like patience, is not a quality the Lord simply bestows on his children. Rather, it is one he cultivates, often by placing us in situations which require us to lay down our pride and choose to act humbly. Let me just say that Father must have really been listening, because in the last week alone, he has been humbling me left and right. I won’t lie and say it has been fun…in all honesty, it has totally sucked.

I’ve been fighting a particular battle for a very long time now. When I say fought, know that I don’t use that term lightly. I’m talking a battle to the death; an all out war, if you will. I’ve tried every tactic known to man, and approached it from every angle I could think of…except for one.

I refused to ask for help.

If I couldn’t solve this on my own, I must be a bad Christian. I just need to read my bible more; I just need to pray harder. If I admit this struggle to anyone, they’re sure to think I’m crazy. What if they thought I was unfit to continue leading Bible Study? What if they ask me to step down?

Though I continued to make every excuse in the book not to ask for help, the Lord graciously opened the door and made it absolutely clear that this would be my only hope of escaping the battle alive. Now, I may be prone to pride, but when the Almighty gives such an obvious command, I’m not dumb enough to say no. I swallowed my pride, made a few phone calls, and finally came to see that I was in much deeper than I ever imagined.

Several other things have occurred since that moment that continue to remind me how depraved I truly am, but for the sake of the privacy of those involved, I won’t go into the details. I will say that because I have spent far too long relying on my own abilities when it comes to teaching the bible and leading my small groups, the Lord is wrecking my pride and reminding me that I’m just his vessel; a completely worthless vessel if I’m not allowing his spirit to work through me. My ministries to these women have suffered as a result of that pride, and the Lord forced me to my knees to ask forgiveness of both Him and the women he has entrusted to me. Both parties have shown me so much compassion; I couldn’t ask for a better display of a grace of which I am so unworthy.

In Beth Moore’s Breaking Free, my very favorite author addresses the sin of pride, citing it one of the biggest stumbling blocks on the road to living in complete freedom in Christ. In one of the most profound statements in the book, Beth says, “It is far better to humble ourselves than force God to humble us.” I may have underlined this statement, but obviously, that is all I did with it. I didn’t put it into practice, and I suffered the consequences. I don’t think I have to tell you that I will not be making that mistake twice.

I’m pressing forward and I am committed to fighting the good fight with every ounce of strength I can muster. It isn’t much though. In the next few months, I’m clinging to the promises of 2 Corinthians 12:9, and the words of the precious children’s song “Jesus Loves Me”

“We are weak, but HE is strong.”

Yes, my Jesus loves me. Fiercely, recklessly, and shamelessly.

But he said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness. -2 Corinthians 12:9

First off, I ought to be writing a stupid paper on Education Policy right now. Quite frankly, that sounds like a snooze fest to me, and given that I’m completely exhausted at this moment in time, I’m not trying to put myself to sleep. What sounds far more exciting than education policy is telling you how the Lord moved in my heart today. His love often overwhelms me, but tonight, my heart is singing.

Sometimes, I think I have the emotional capacity of a frat boy. Seriously, I’m not into the touchy-feely, lets sit around a campfire singing Kumbaya and talking about our feelings garbage. It makes me want to gouge my eyes out with a spork (not really, but I’d at least consider it). And never, I mean NEVER, did I talk about my life with strangers. The past was the past, I thought, and I intended to keep it that way.

But God…

My world got rocked when I truly met Jesus nearly a year ago. He freed me from my shame and the fear of judgement, and let me tell you sweet friend, it feels INCREDIBLE. My heart dances at the thought. You wouldn’t recognize me now. I’m an open book, sharing anything you could want to know with anyone who takes the time to listen. I did that tonight, and on the drive home, I sat back in utter shock. I wasn’t ashamed in the moment and I’m not ashamed now, and that is SO unlike me.

You see, if you’re ever going to understand how incredible my God is, and if I am ever going to explain to you how incomprehensibly precious it is to be radically and SHAMELESSLY loved by Almighty God, you have to understand exactly what I’ve seen in my life.You have to understand the magnitude of what my Father carried my lifeless body through.

My Grandaddy’s very favorite verse is on my heart tonight.

This is why I suffer as I do, but I AM NOT ASHAMED, for I know whom I have believed and am CONVINCED that he is able to guard until that Day what has been entrusted to me.

2 Timothy 1:12 (emphasis mine)

So ask me. Ask me what happened. Ask me the reason for the hope in my heart. Then pull up a chair, pour yourself a stout cup of coffee, and see how INCREDIBLE my God really is.

As a deer pants for flowing streams,

so pants my soul for you, O God.

My soul thirsts for God,

for the Living God.

When shall I come and appear before God?

My tears have been my food day and night,

While they say to me all the day long

“Where is your God?”

These things I remember,

as I pour out my soul:

How I would go with the throng and lead them in procession to the house of God

with glad shouts and songs of praise, a multitude keeping festival.

Why are you cast down, O my soul,

and why are you in turmoil within me?

Hope in God; for I shall again praise him, my salvation and my God.

My soul is cast down within me;

therefore, I remember you

from the land of Jordan and of Hermon, from Mount Mizar

Deep calls to deep at the roar of your waterfalls;

all your breakers and your waves have gone over me.

By day the LORD commands his steadfast love,

and at night his song is with me,

a prayer to the God of my life.

I say to God, my rock:

“Why have you forgotten me?

Why do I go mourning because of the oppression of the enemy?”

As with a deadly wound in my bones, my adversaries taunt me,

while they say to me all the day long,

“Where is your God?”

Why are you cast down, O my soul,

and why are you in turmoil within me?

Hope in God; for I shall again praise him,

my salvation and my God.

-Psalm 42

Sometime there isn’t anything else to say. Sometimes, we need to simply let scripture speak for itself.

¹ And you were dead in the trespasses and sins ² in which you once walked, following the course of this world, following the prince of the power of the air, the spirit that is now at work in the sons of disobedience— ³ among whom we all once lived in the passions of our flesh, carrying out the desires of the bodyand the mind, and were by nature children of wrath, like the rest of mankind. ⁴ ButGod, being rich in mercy, because of the great love with which he loved us, ⁵ even when we were dead in our trespasses, made us alive together with Christ—by grace you have been saved— ⁶ and raised us up with him and seated us with him in the heavenly places in Christ Jesus, ⁷ so that in the coming ages he might show the immeasurable riches of his grace in kindness toward us in Christ Jesus. ⁸ For by grace you have been saved through faith. And this is not your own doing; it is the gift of God, ⁹ not a result of works, so that no one may boast.

Ephesians 2:1-10

Call me negative if you want, but surely I’m not the only one who is sick of hearing all of this “Believe in Yourself, You can achieve anything” self-talk, mumbo jumbo garbage. Really, do you truly want to put faith in your own ablities? The King of the Universe, he who breathed and the world came to be- do you really think you have anything to offer him?Scripture tells us that man is dead in his sin. What then, does a dead man have to offer a king?

Absolutely nothing.

I, who am inherently sinful, self-seeking, and evil at the very core of my soul, don’t have anything to give this man named Jesus. Not my time, which I frequently squander. Not my words, which are often wrong, arrogant, or judgmental. Not even my talents, which are few and flawed at best compared to the immeasurable power of Almighty God. When you strip it all away, I am nothing more than a lifeless slave to the passions of this world.

But Christ offers me a resurrection. He willingly gives regeneration to those who recognize they have nothing good within them. Its a priceless gift, one this wrecked and ravaged sinner could never afford.

So I don’t want to believe in myself, because who I am is worthless. I want to believe in the gift I’ve been given, in the power that lies within me through the gift of the Spirit of God.

I certainly have nothing to give.

Let me begin by making one thing absolutely clear: This is in no way, shape or form a political statement of any kind. Don’t try to argue politics with me on this one, because quite frankly, I don’t want to hear it. Rather, see this a call to perspective, to look at our seemingly dismal situations from a global standpoint. This is not a matter of partisanship; its a matter of the condition of the heart.

On my way home from class each day, I take South Limestone all the way to Paris Pike. Its not a terribly long drive, but it is certainly an interesting trip. Over the course of my twenty minute commute, I see just about everything Lexington has to offer. The University of Kentucky is everything a college campus should be; sprawling, inviting, and full of life. Downtown Lexington is no less lively, and though it pales in comparison to major US cities, its size is certainly impressive to a small town girl like me.

As I make my way out of town, I pass through a mile of historic buildings and modern town homes. This is the part of my trip that disturbs me. You see, every day, I drive past a lovely, 3 story brick home in the middle of town. There is nothing about the structure itself that caught my eye, but rather the sign posted conspicuously in the center of the yard. This sign displays the well known slogan of the Occupy Wall Street movement, declaring very plainly, “We are the 99%”.

To be completely honest, driving past this house makes me madder than a cat in a swimming pool. It seems a bit ironic to me that the nicest house on the street is the one publicly protesting income inequality, claiming to be among the least privileged citizens of the country. To add insult to injury, traveling less than a mile down the road brings you to the poorest and most crime infested part of Lexington. Not a single Occupy Wall Street sign is found here, yet these are the Americans who truly represent the most underprivileged citizens in our country.

This area of Lexington doesn’t even begin to compare to other regions of the state. Without a doubt, there are certainly areas of the United States where abject poverty exists, but does the family in this house actually understand what that is like? Have they ever traveled just two hours east to Owsley Co., KY, the poorest county in the nation (as of the 2010 census) with a median income of only $18,869? I can’t help but think if they had, they just might take that sign out of their yard.

But this is not the part that angers me the most; no, it is the thought of our brothers and sisters around the globe who can only dream of living in the “slums” of Lexington. I’ve got a little newsflash for all you Occupiers out there: You may not be in the top 1% of the United States, but I can almost guarantee you are in the top 1% globally. It only takes an annual income of $34,000 to fall into this category. To qualify for the top 10%, one would only need to earn only $12,000 annually.

You read that right. The majority of our Owsley Co. neighbors, the poorest of all Americans, are among the richest 10% of the world.

In the book of Luke, Jesus finishes one of his many parables with this:

Everyone to whom much was given, of him much will be required, and from him to whom they entrusted much, they will demand the more.

Luke 12:48b

Often times, we assume that this verse is referring to monetary blessings, and I certainly believe it is applicable to our finances. I believe financial offerings are one of the highest acts of worship, as they require us to make sacrifices that often hurt. However, I think it is important to look at this verse in a broader context of blessings. Not to offend Joel Osteen or anything, but God never once promised his children financial security. Does that make the poorest among us any less blessed?

At this moment in time, there are 27 million people living in slavery worldwide. That is the highest number of slaves in human history. A girl born in South Africa is more likely to be raped in her lifetime than learn to read. And right now 143,000,000 children are orphan. 143 babies with no one to care for them.

If you live in America, the fact of the matter is you are crazy, crazy blessed. If you can call yourself a child of the Most High God, you have the one thing that is more precious than anything this world could ever offer. You may not make an excess of $350,000 a year, but MUCH has been entrusted to you.

What are you going to do with it?