Two Years Ago

Halloween is here! The Beams wish you a happy one!

This holiday has never been my favorite. [I used to really enjoy being with my Minkus on this day because she enjoyed it so much.] But I don't really like scary things, and I always feel a lot of pressure to find the PERFECT costume (so I typically end up not dressing up, as of late).

This holiday always makes me think of my family, though. I remember going to my Gram & Pa's house every year growing up for a special bucket of candy (that was probably my favorite part ... Sixlets, yessir.). I also really enjoyed my Mama & Aunt Lise coming to judge the Halloween costume competition at our festive yearly parties with my friends in recent years. My most precious Halloween memory, though, happened two years ago. I was eight weeks pregnant with a precious boy, and I got to break the news to some precious people.

My grandparents.

Love at first sight ... John Beam

Mama & I had been trick or treating with Calley & Mason in Liz's in-laws's neighborhood. It was crazy. I was riding in a trailer being pulled behind a four-wheeler worried that my newly acquired baby was going to come unattached from my insides. Momby and I decided to abandon the craziness for a little while, and in turn, we abandoned Calley & Lisa (for longer than a little while ... muahahahaha). We were both giddy to get to my grandparents' house and break the news.

We had just been to the doctor on the Friday before to see my Boo-bear for the first time. I got out the pictures that the ultrasound lady had taken for us and passed them over to my Gram for her to see and show my Pa. Then something unexpected happened. My grandpa broke down and started crying.

I had never seen him do anything like this before. And I didn't know what to do or say in that moment. He was crying because he was so afraid that he wouldn't get to meet my sweet John (or, at the time, possibly sweet Sarah). I remember feeling so loved and valued by him in that moment. It was so important to him that he got to meet John.

From the moment that he laid eyes on him (and his monkey toes), baby boy Beam was called "Monkey John." We both felt so loved by Pa in this moment.

And we miss Pa this very moment. John has a book of pictures of my family, and when he opens it, he says, "Pa."

Two years ago, I never dreamed what it would feel like to live on an earth without my Pa in it. Today? Halloween is just another holiday that is precious in my memory because of him.

Miss you, Pa. [Your Monkey John is truly a monkey. He started doing flips off of the couch today.]

The Grandpa Series: Part Five: The Nickname

"Ash-Ma!"

I can hear him saying it. Yep, my Pa named my blog. 

See, when I first had John [blah, blah, blah ... new motherhood with a baby who refuses to eat is hard. We get it, Ashley.] Okay, I'll put it to you like this ... I CRASH landed into motherhood. Some people gracefully land. Not me. It was hard. It was something that I honestly could not muscle my way through in my own strength. (Still is. Extremely demanding job, grace of God daily required.) My Pa watched me adjust. He knew that I was struggling. He wanted to validate me. He wanted me to hear from him that he saw me, that he knew that I was doing my best (even though my best wasn't good enough). He wanted me to hear that he was proud of me.

He didn't articulate any of his aforementioned thoughts directly to me. He simply started calling me Ash-Ma (played off of my longtime nickname, Ash-Mo). And every time I heard him call me Ash-Ma, he communicated his love for me.

That's why I'm so glad I named my blog Ash-Ma Beam - every time I come to this blog, I think of him. I remember his unique way of communicating love (or something like it) to people through their nicknames.

Thanks for letting me continue writing about him. I miss him. My mama sent John a book (-a) with family pictures so that he'll start saying everyone's names (especially Meme). My Pa's picture is in there twice. John says Pa perfectly, and I just don't know what to do with that. It's so hard to know that I can't share my son with my grandpa anymore. Breaks. My. Heart.

I am excited to share John with my grandma, though. (John says Ma perfectly too. Smart kid.) I think that my Pa would want me to help fill the void that he's left in her life. Pa's chair remains empty. It's our job to fill it. Even from afar. I can't wait to get to her in December and fill her life (and likely Pa's chair) with craziness. But for now the telephone will have to do.

1 Timothy 5:4: But if a widow has children or grandchildren, these should learn first of all to put their religion into practice by caring for their own family and so repaying their parents and grandparents, for this is pleasing to God.

Who will sit in Pa's chair? Ash-Ma will. 

My Sixteen-Month-Old Son

What to write, what to write?

I want to write about something. Something important. Something insightful. Something of eternal value. I want to write, but honestly, today I am exhausted. My son didn't allow me anytime to myself. No time to think. No time to just be me. This morning, we went to story time at the library. He I made an apple tree craft. Then we tutored together. In between discussing long e, short e, long i, short i with a couple of precious women, we read Dr. Seuss's ABCs and Brown Bear, Brown Bear. After that we came home and he took a ten-minute nap away from his "ninny." After his "ninny night night," we had time to have a phone conversation with Meme, make some sweet tea, and prepare for a special meeting. Meeting, meeting, meeting [insert John pooping all over his clothes and Dada taking him home to play with his new play dough and dinosaurs]. Then I just came home and laughed at my baby dancing and clapping (during a show we like to watch called The Voice), bathing (figuring out how to splash) and running (from Dada when he knew it was time for bed). It's 11 o'clock and he just got to bed. (Oct. 15, 2012)

I guess I just wanted to write this because I often wonder ... What was my life like when I had a four-month-old? ... An eight month old? ... A thirteen month old? There are subtle little differences between the months. Those differences = my son growing up before my eyes. And, well, he's always with me, so I sometimes miss those subtle differences. 

Thus, I am going to record some posts like this. A day in the life of John Beam ... What was he into? ... What were his favorites? Who was my sixteen-month-old son?

So, my sixteen-month-old has been sick. Truly sick for the first time. Snotty nose. Cough. Trouble breathing. The whole nine yards. He is on the mend, though, but he has still been having trouble sleeping, and I've been tired as a result. 

My sixteen-month-old son LOVES his new dinosaurs. Mama left him with Dada last Saturday morning (Oct. 13) to go to a Mom2Mom sale with a friend (John's Aunt Mandy) and brought home a bucket of dinos for John John. He was into it. He has also really started playing ... like pretending [I think ... He lines up his cars and talks with them]. He also loves his poofs ... He loads them up in the back of his toy trucks. I LOVE watching him and his creativity grow. 

My sixteen-month-old son adores books. He reads, reads, reads; he also loves to be read to ... by Mama ... by Dada ... by his favorite babysitter, Mrs. Elise [Mama left him with a non-blood-relative babysitter for the first time this month. John did great. Mama was a little shaky.] ... and by anyone who comes to our newly-founded Thursday night Bible study. His favorite books include (but are certainly NOT limited to) Brown Bear, Brown Bear, What do you See?, My First Farm Touch and Feel Book, and (believe it or not) Barbie: I Can be a Pet Vet (bought for tutoring a family of girlies in English ... this book never made it to their house).

My sixteen-month-old son is talking some, babbling a lot. He has learned to say all of his grandparents' names [Meme, Honey, Poppy and Pop ... repeat after me style]. He also has picked up some of my favorite responses to his babbling ... "Oh, yeah," and "Wow!" When Mama says "Caw! Caw!" John Piggy exclaims, "BIRD!" My baby can also say "whoo," "owl," "moo," "neigh," "meow," "baa" (he is very into making animal sounds), "bath," and "wash," "open this" (+ many more). 

My sixteen-month-old son has a gut that just won't quit. He likes his "winky" (Sorry, y'all ... he's a boy). Two things that I notice at bath time, which John enjoys so much! I know that it's time for this boy to get OUT when he starts throwing all of his toys and buckets (full of water) out of the tub. OMGeee, this Boo Boo can be high maintenance.

My sixteen-month-old son is eating so, so much these days. He loves going to his chair for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. And he HATES getting his face and hands wiped when he's done.

And oh, the chocolate! My sixteen-month-old son is a Hershey Kiss MONSTER!!! He sort of takes after his Cal Cal in so many things.

My sixteen-month-old son took his first trip to Indiana (Oct. 19-21) this month for a conference in honor of Jesus. He loved DANCING to the worship music so much! It was at this conference that we KNEW he was teething. He is currently getting his four canine teeth. Someone told me that these are called the "stomach teeth" because they mess with babies' tummies. I believe it! John has been pooping so much (and all over my house & his clothes). I'll be glad when these teeth are in. 

Here's the truth, peeps. I'm just smitten with this boy. This little ball of energy. This baby who requires so much of my time, who is really terrible at napping/sleeping through the night {terrible, y'all}, and who has a severe sweet tooth. This boy is so crazy cool. I am completely humbled and grateful that God has entrusted him to me and the studly one known as Dada. 

Here's some more truth. This is just going by so fast. This = John's life. I am so crazy about him. Honestly, when he was born and it was so hard, so hard for him to eat + the baby blues set in + I am really easily stressed = me daydreaming about having another baby. It sounds strange, right? But I was just imagining this perfect child. My next child. You know the one who latches immediately and sleeps through the night at some point earlier than sixteen months. (Does STTN even exist?) I found myself wishing for that child when John was, well, difficult. But I have decided that I don't want that kid ... the one that I dreamed up. The one who sleeps as I do whatever the heck I want. I want my kid. I want him to be mine longer than he will be. Man, he just keeps growing. He just keeps getting smarter. And more hilarious. Oh, he's so funny. Before I know it, he'll be married. 

So, here's the deal. I am going to blog about this guy. I am going to use a lot of words on him. And pictures. I'm going to take lots of pictures. I hope that's okay with you. I hope that you'll journey along with me as I learn from and love this little sixteen-month-old soul who I treasure.

John Pig, know this, little man. Your Mama was sure blessed by your sixteen-month-old self. And your Mama loves you so stinkin' much!

What Makes Me Indignant?

Indignant : [in-dig-nuhnt]: adjective, feeling , characterized by, or expressing strong displeasure at something considered unjust, offensive, insulting, or base

Indignant. It's a strong word.

It's a word that Gospel writer, Mark, used to describe Jesus. 

See?

Mark 10:14a:  When Jesus saw this, he was indignant...

As I read these words, I know that Jesus is God in the flesh. And I know that Jesus is so, so good. [He's given me the privilege of walking closely with Him for the last six years {by His grace}. I've experienced His goodness firsthand.] Therefore, I know that whatever  it is that makes Jesus indignant, well, I want to be crazy ticked off about it too. 

Drum-roll, please. 

In this particular passage, what is making Jesus particularly angry is... 

Nephew Mason

Mark 10:13: People were bringing little children to Jesus to have him touch them, but the disciples rebuked them. 

The disciples were rebuking people whose babies were disrupting Bible study.

And that, friends, made Jesus very, very angry.

I must confess to you that I have done the same thing. 

You see, I have a baby who disrupts Bible study (and millions of other things that I might deem more important than him at the time). I have a son who isn't able to understand deep spiritual truths, who won't sit still long enough to read through a story about Jesus, and who interrupts me when I'm talking to someone who will. And my first inclination? To think to myself that the person with the mental capacity to understand and accept truth is worth more of my time, energy, and talent than someone with  a 16-month-old understanding.

Nephew Hudson

[Insert Mommy's defense: Before y'all go thinking that I'm a terrible mother who does not tend to her son's needs or give said son enough attention, please note that I am speaking about my way of thinking = what goes on in my mind, which you will see that God is changing. My day-to-day life with my son is full of Mama + Boo Boo strolls, play dough time,{confession}eating chocolate together, babysitting & playing with other people's kids, and even trying to get him to sit through a Jesus story. I am learning to be a stay-at-home Mama with the expressed mission of investing in one precious soul.] {Keep reading}

Here's what Jesus has to say about these precious little interruptions (who were viewed as good-for-nothing-non-money-making-unintelligent-maybe-a-little-cute kids):

Mark 10:14b-15:

"Let the little children come to me, and do not hinder them, for the kingdom of God belongs to such as these. I tell you the truth, anyone who will not receive the kingdom of God like a little child will never enter it."

My biggest takeaway from these verses is that the little interruptions are actually our examples. I am supposed to mimic John in the way that I relate to my King, Jesus, and in the way that I serve in His Kingdom. I am to be humble and teachable (like a child), not assuming that I already know everything. I am to be a servant (like a child), doing chores as my Daddy tells me to, you know, doing my duty. I am to crave time with my Father like a child who craves time and attention from his/her parents. I am to be trusting (like a child), trusting that my King/Father knows what's best. I am to be obedient (like a child), knowing that I will be blessed/rewarded when I do obey.

My John

You get the idea? Since studying this passage last week, I have been observing John for clues from his little life about how to receive my Savior on a daily basis. Thus, John is not an unwanted distraction. No, he is one of my greatest teachers. 

BUT HE IS SO MUCH MORE THAN THAT!

Why am I yelling? Because I believe that this (this = what comes next) is the most important takeaway from this passage. 

Jesus was indignant because (at his disciples' rebuke) people, children (made in the likeness of God) were being robbed of their dignity.   

So, I ask myself, what makes me indignant? 

Check out this list.

1. Getting honked at. I absolutely hate it when people honk at me in traffic (and ... random fact ... I will only honk at you if it is a life-and-death situation). Seriously, I hate honking.

2. It makes me indignant when people talk ugly about my sister. I only have one, and she is my girl. Don't hate on her. 

3. When John poops on the floor. (Okay, maybe it's just that last week was hard. Four explosive poops, people. Four!)

4. I HATE being rushed. Like number 1 pet peeve.

5. Sarcasm. 

6. When my hubby does stupid boy things. {I know, I know. I can't turn him into a girl. Oh, boy.}

7. When I can't eat exactly what I want exactly when I want it. #hungryranger

8. Boston Celtics/UK loss in the playoffs. World ending.

This list makes me so sad because most of the items on it have to do with me, myself, and I being wronged. Listen to how Jesus responded when he was mistreated.

Isaiah 53:7: He was oppressed and afflicted, yet he did not open his mouth; he was led like a lamb to the slaughter, and as a sheep before her shearers is silent, so he did not open his mouth.

Luke 23:34: Jesus said, "Father, forgive them, for they do not know what they are doing." ...

You see, Jesus did not become indignant at his own mistreatment  but at the mistreatment, at the oppression & affliction of others.  Jesus was indignant as others were robbed of their dignity. So, I ask myself ... What should make me indignant?

Check out this list.

1. When children are ignored, neglected, orphaned, abused, and lied to.

2. Poverty.

3. Racism. [The history of  racism/segregation in Detroit is sparking some negative emotions in my heart. Lord, make me INDIGNANT.]

4. Slavery. [Yes, it still exists.]

5. Spiritual poverty. {When people don't have access to the truth about Jesus that I believe.}

6. The fact that there are lonely, ostracized people in the world.

7. Unfair wages.

8. Unfair treatment of immigrants.

The list could go on. Do these things make me indignant? Honestly, I'd love to say yes. But the way that I live my life (trying hard not to think about these hard, hard things = pretending that they don't exist), I'd say that honestly I'm not indignant. YET. I believe that God is carrying out a work in my life. I believe that  God is in the process of making me angry for all the right reasons.

I hope that you'll join me. 

In light of Jesus's response to the children ...

Mark 10:16: And he took the children in his arms, put his hands on them and blessed them.

... I hope that you'll join me in taking action to be a blessing to those who have been robbed of their dignity.

Here's the Other Thing

I think that maybe you guys have caught wind of the fact that I am totally obsessed with my friend Rebecca's business, Better Life Bags. I think that you know that I will be doing some Christmas shopping here. I am also pretty sure that you grasp one of the reasons why: Rebecca's heart for the poor and her willingness to give of her own to benefit those less fortunate. (No glory to her; she strives to be like Jesus). [Read about BLB's mission.]

But there is another reason. A reason which really just tips the scale in total favor (and allegiance and support) of Better Life Bags. That reason can be summed up in these verses:

Deuteronomy 10:18: He defends the cause of the fatherless and the widow, and loves the alien, giving him food and clothing.

Leviticus 19:33-34: "When an alien lives with you in your land, do not mistreat him. The alien living with you must be treated as one of your native-born. Love him as yourself, for you were aliens in Egypt. I am the LORD your God."

Deuteronomy 24:19-21: "When you are harvesting in your field and you overlook a sheaf, do not go back and get it. Leave it for the alien, the fatherless, and the widow, so that the LORD your God may bless you in all the work of your hands. When you beat the olives from your trees, do not go over the branches a second time. Leave what remains for the alien, the fatherless, and the widow. When you harvest the grapes in your vineyard, so not go over the vines again. Leave what remains for the alien, the fatherless, and the widow."

[All emphasis, mine]

Yes, I know that the word alien is not politically correct these days, but you get it. The text is referring to people who are out of their homeland. They're away from their mamas/daddies/sisters/brothers/old family friends. You know, all the people who help us out when we're in a bind. They're away from their heart language. You know, the language we've understood since we were John's age. Many of them are removed from the country where they obtained their higher education, and their graduate degrees may be deemed obsolete, no good. Many of them are lonely, friendless, separated from everyone whose culture and value system is in any way similar to their own.

For all of the aforementioned reasons (and many more), it is imperative that the people of God help the foreigner in and around our lives.

This is why I love the mission of Better Life Bags. You see, Rebecca and I live in a very diverse/multicultural/hopping with immigrants neighborhood. Rebecca's first employee is not living in her home country. She is far, far away actually. She is from a place where it is highly uncommon for women to have a job outside of the home. [Thus, BLB is giving her the opportunity to work from home. Score!] English is not her first language. She is an alien.

Rebecca is living obediently, in line with the Scriptures mentioned above by giving this woman a job. Wanna help her? Visit her shop and snag the new Molly bag (pictured). This is one bag made by Beck's newest employee. What's more, Rebecca's looking to hire more women from our community. Women who are out of their element. Women who are in need of a friend. Women who she will teach the marketable skill of sewing so that they can support their families. Women who ultimately need to know and understand the grace of the Lord Jesus. Will you support her in this endeavor {and get a cute bag to boot}?

Supporting BLB is not the only way to obey these verses penned by God Himself commanding us to treat the foreigner among us with dignity and love. No, supporting BLB is the least you can do, really. My challenge for you (and me) is to get into these people's lives. TONS of immigrants have never set foot in an American home. They have never experienced a Southern fried chicken meal (to all my GA bros and sisters out there). They have never taken part in a Thanksgiving feast. They don't know what it's like to whack a pinata at a baby boy's first birthday party. Heck, some of them don't even know the language and are struggling to find someone with whom they can have a conversation in English.

Here's the point, God desires that His children love the foreigners living among them. Get creative. Seek these folks out. You might just learn a few things from them (and have your socks blessed off by the Living God). Rebecca can vouch for me there.

...so that the LORD your God may bless you in all the work of your hands. (Deuteronomy 24:19)

Love you guys! [And I'd love it if you'd post in the comments section how you are loving the foreigner in your life ... whether it's buying a bag or serving them dinner. GO!]

My Dear, Sweet Friend

This is my friend, Rebecca. 

Isn't she beautiful? She is mommy to two of my favorite kiddos/two of John's best friends. 

She is also the owner,creative genius, talented sewer, bag designer, manager of this little business known as Better Life Bags. 

Check it.

She makes really pretty things, like this (sisteo's diaper bag).

And this (happy mama's wet bag).

And this & this.

Yep, gotta get some of that leather. 

And I am just so insanely proud of her. You see, she used to be a fifth grade teacher (a fifth grade teacher who really helped me become established in my walk with Christ, mind you). 

And then she got pregnant, and at that point, she fell off the face of the earth.

[I thought she was such a spiritual slacker, by the way. But I was a young, nearly married, carefree college student who would experience the woes of pregnancy and motherhood soon enough.]

Now, might I add, I am amazed at the feat that she accomplished ... starting a new custom bag business (by accident) as a new mother. WOW! 

You see, she made a diaper bag to use with her new baby boy.

[Like this.]

And other people liked it so much that they started asking her to make them one.

This one girl named Ashley Williams Beam asked for a bag to honor her favorite Mouse.

Oh. My. Gosh.

And the business grew.

Rebecca decided (because of her commitment to Jesus and His commands) to use her talent and new-found popularity to help those in need. Thus, she decided to donate 10% of her bag sales to Kiva, an organization which lends to people living under the yoke of poverty to get their own business ventures off the ground. 

In 2010, Rebecca moved to Detroit, Michigan. She lives in a very international part of town. Rebecca had the idea to give women the opportunity to work who would otherwise not be able to, and earlier this year she hired her first BLB employee to help alleviate poverty in her own city (making lives better in more ways than one ... read about Beck's first hire here.)

[Oh, and did I mention that I live in the same city? And that Rebecca is one of my closest friends? Yep, I love her.]

Today the business continues to grow (and I like to think of myself as her #1 fan). 

In fact, this weekend Rebecca traveled to Indiana for a blogger's conference called Influence (maybe I'll go with her next year?). She is being inspired (as I type) to use her influence (and her business) to point people to Jesus (the One who truly makes lives better).

So, I wanted to write this post to honor her. To tell her how proud I am to call her my friend. And to say, "Hurry home to Hamtramck. I stinkin' miss you!!!"

There you have it. My friend, Rebecca. She's one in a million.

What are you waiting for, friends? Get to her shop and start your Christmas shopping! 

Whoever oppresses the poor man insults his Maker, but he who is generous to the needy honors him.

Proverbs 14:30

How Can You Be Full of Two Things?

John 1:14: "The Word became flesh and made his dwelling among us. We have seen his glory, the glory of the one and only Son, who came from the Father, full of grace and truth" (emphasis mine).

This verse has always completely thrown me off. Full of grace. And truth. I always thought that if you were full of one thing then there's no room for anything else. Right?

In steps Jesus. Full of grace and truth. How can this be? My little finite mind is blown. Mind-blowing things habitually happen when Jesus is involved, but I am supposed to mimic him. As a Christian ("little Christ"), I am supposed to be full of two things also.

Problem. I am an ENFP. Intuiting feeler. (Clueless about Myers Briggs geek-ery? Stay with me.) I've been told that my inner two letters make me an all or nothing person. What does this mean? If I'm in, I'm all in. If I'm out, I'm all out. I CANNOT do things half-heartedly. [There ya go, Mama. Here's why I either failed the class OR made an A.]

And I think that Jesus followers naturally tend to swing to one side or the other. The prophet, exhortation, justice types are truth tellers. That's their gifted-ness. That's their sway. That's how they roll. Truth.

The mercy, feeling, song-singing types are grace, grace all day long.

I am sort of having an identity crisis. Jesus was both. Full of both.

I was privileged to walk with a very truth-oriented community for four years. Man, did God use this group (www.savannahnavs.com) to shift my paradigms and totally transform my life. We did it big. We hooked. We jabbed for the Kingdom of God. But life was totally simple back then. [I thought it was really hard ... because we all think that our life is really hard during the season that we're in. These words are not to diminish the toughness of the college course load. Forgive me, it's just that now I know how hard it is to be a mother.] All I had to worry about was earning money to feed myself, pay my rent, and I had to pass my classes.

Then I got pregnant. Throughout my pregnancy, I remember saying to the girls who I was discipling, "I'll be available until June," or, "I'll be around 'till my life is over." I didn't know then how true the latter sentiment was [as I sit home today nursing my sick child, missing out on a ministry-related meeting].

Two months after John was born, we moved to become a part of a new community. Doing a very different type of ministry. Gone was the fast pace with the single girls. Gone was anything that even faintly resembled ministry in my mind. I had a tiny baby who refused to latch and refused to grow. I was totally out of my element. Out of my comfort zone. [Being the one thing that I'd known I wanted to be my whole life: Mama. Ironic, huh?] I began to rely on the promise found in 2 Corinthians 12:9: "But he said to me, 'My grace is sufficient for you; for my power is made perfect in weakness' ..." God also gave me this promise for my new role as a mother: "And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose" (Romans 8:28). Motherhood was hard, y'all.

Then something began to happen. Grace started to creep in on me. I didn't want it to. You see, I had become this well-intentioned, truth-telling, semi-judgmental, work-in-your-own-strength Christian (give me grace, y'all?). But now I was just a new Mama who needed a lot of grace. I could not do it. I sincerely believe that God allowed me to birth this bundle of terror JOY to teach me how to be full of grace.

Okay, so here's the problem. Now I've got the grace part down. How can I also be full of truth? (Remember, I'm all or nothing Ashley.) Well, last night a dream of mine came true. I got to see the entire 116 Clique in concert. For those of you who don't know, they're Christian rappers (yes, Mama LOVES, love, LOVES, loves rap music ... I replaced T.I. with these fellas) whose mantra is Romans 1:16: "For I am not ashamed of the gospel, because it is the power of God that brings salvation to everyone who believes ..." These men live their lives unashamed of Christ and the Good News that He brings (which for me and you is GRACE undeserved). Admittedly, I sang a couple of lines with Andy Mineo, knew a couple of Pro's Derek Minor's songs (Hubby's favorite). I've posted KB's "Brand New" on the blog before; I had my hands in the sky for that one. Tedashii & Trip Lee were responsible for a couple of my favorite moments of the night. But. Lecrae. Lecrae is my main rapper. Hear me now, I am not here to celebrate a man. Lecrae is human. Talented, but human. He is nothing compared to God, but he is someone who God has used so mightily in my life to fire me up for the Kingdom of God. Rehab (Lecrae album) rehabilitated me while I was old preggo with no energy. Church Clothes is my 16-month-old son's favorite song to this day. [I secretly okay, not so secretly would LOVE it if John became a rapper. We've already been practicing beatboxing together. "Boots." "Cuts." :)]

Anyway, I bring up Lecrae because #1 you should check out his music, and #2 he reminds me of Jesus in that his lyrics are full of grace and truth. I do not have it figured out yet ... how to be full of two things. I know that there were moments when Jesus had compassion on the crowds because they were harassed and helpless like sheep without a shepherd and there were moments when he turned over the tables of the greedy selling in the temple courts. In both of those situations, I believe that Jesus was full to the brim of both grace and truth (even though we [in our small minds] think compassion =grace, righteous anger = truth). I do have a hypothesis about the matter, though. [Don't hate. We watch a lot of Buddy on Dinosaur Train. I have big plans to be a dinosaur expert by the time the Beam children outgrow PBS. Did I mention that ENFP is also the ADD personality type?]

My hypothesis is this: As we mature, God gives us more of His nature. Case in point, I was a truth teller. My spiritual parents/grandparents/aunts/uncles were truth tellers, so naturally. But then, I grew up and moved down the street from some grace givers (at the very time I recognized my needs for God's grace the most ... perfect timing ... that's my God!). God has now given me the ability to see my need (and others' needs) for grace and truth. God has also given me His Spirit. Now I believe that the Holy Spirit counsels me in day-to-day life. He is with me, in me, around me. He is the mobile God. (How cool, right?) So, it makes sense to me that the Holy Spirit can give me the mind of Christ in every situation and help me to be full of both grace and truth.

So, there you have it. Part of my journey that may have you pulling your hair out right now. [What the hay bales did I just read?] It's important though, peeps. God has left us here to point people to Jesus, who was full of grace and truth. Father, may we as your people, understand/accept/live out/be full to the brim of your grace and truth. In Jesus' Name. Amen.