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January 31, 2014 by Karin 12 Comments

Why We Drill Holes In The Frozen Places

Sometimes I just have to write to feel my fingers dancing on the keyboard. I think it must be this way for all artists. And we are all artists.

I think about the gifts God gives us; the ones we have no idea are swimming just below the surface while we dance and skate across the top of the pond. We fly through the air and forget there are treasures swimming just below the frozen lid.

Sun over a frozen lake

Snow-covered mountains

My husband went ice fishing. Seems like a funny thing to do in Las Vegas… but Utah is not very far away. Utah with its snow-covered mountains and frozen lakes. It seems we are never very far from frozen places.

They drilled a hole through eight inches of ice to get to the liquid wonder where the fish dance a dance all their own. Makes me wonder how many inches of ice God must drill through to get the core of us… and, why do we keep re-freezing? The drilling is hard work.

Drilling the frozen places

Hole in the Ice

This got me to thinking about frozen lakes. I have never stepped foot onto a lake so thick in ice you could dance on it. I grew up in the South. One year when I was a kid, the lake we grew up on invited my dad and me for a swim on December 31. I’ve never seen a frozen lake. But, I know the frozen places…

The frozen parts – we all have them. We can step out and slip and slide in all directions not knowing where we may end up. We can skate in one direction and spin around to find ourselves somewhere else entirely. All the while, the thought tickles the back of our minds,

Will the ice break?

Will we fall into the frigid depths and sink to the unknown… a dark, murky nowhere kind of place?

Or is there something more?

Frozen Lake

One of the guys put on a life jacket while the others held a rope tied to his waist. He carefully tread onto the ice and found a spot to drill with the auger. The ice was thick enough. He called the rest of the crew out and they set up ice fishing shop. Chairs, fishing rods, and whatever else guys use when they go ice fishing…

The funny thing is, my warrior told me that the fish are slower in this murk beneath the frozen roof. They slowly drift to the lines and bump against them. No hurry. No excessive hunger it appears… just icy cruising until one gets curious enough to bite.

Three Fish

I wonder what we would find if we drilled beneath our frozen surfaces – the pieces slowly being drilled away by God. I wonder if the pace would be slower… if the dance would look a little bit different. I wonder if the treasure lies just beneath the surface.

And what about the fishing? We are all fishermen, that is… fishers of men, you know. How slowly and cautiously the fish swim around us when we are, well, frozen.

Who wants to swim to a line when the holder of the life line is chilly and cold?  Or, maybe, this holder won’t give a glimpse of what’s underneath the surface.

But, sometimes these frozen places feel just so safe.  It’s almost easier to sit frozen and still – easier than holding out a line, or a hand… or a heart.

Walking on Ice

We cast our lines through the small holes – the ones we’ve allowed God to drill. But, the rest… it’s all a slippery surface. Would knows where the icy patches are safe? Who knows what false move may cause the plunge?

Yea, and when the ice does crack, and we find ourselves submerged – down in the depths with the rest of the fish – we are told the best thing to do is… stay calm.

And maybe if we stay calm in these places where the fish slowly nudge, we may just survive.  Rise to the surface where the sun’s light blinds us all.

And here, we can breathe this deep breath of relief. We can see that the icy places are really not the safe places. They are really not the sturdy shield we have so carefully created.

When it all melts enough to bring us to this place where we have to remain calm… or sink… then, we can really become fishermen.

There’s not much that separates us from the fish swimming below the surface.  Just a sheet of ice.

Before we know it, the Son melts it all away. 

And, in the warmth, the fish begin to bite…

 

Matthew 4:19

“Come, follow me,” Jesus said, “and I will make you fishers of men.”

Karin Madden

Filed Under: Faith, Together, Trust Tagged With: fishers of men, ice fishing, the frozen places

January 22, 2014 by Karin 4 Comments

When You Can Suddenly See So Much More

You can’t help but stare.

It’s almost too much for the eyes to take in.

Coming from the green drenched hills of the east where sight doesn’t extend past the next turn.  Your eyes can’t help but blink and blink and try to take it all in.

Green quenched East

Green Gardens of Home

The open valley, the stark desert sprinkled with life – then suddenly the mammoth city and the rugged beauty of jagged mountains.

You think you might just be able to see forever. And, you wonder why you couldn’t see forever before.

Desert Tracks

She landed in this western city where endless bets are placed. Her little guy stared, mesmerized by a place he had never seen before.

This forever friend of mine and her little boy who struggles with grueling allergies and tormenting skin problems – just like my boys.

It’s no wonder God brought us to meet in our twenties. She introduced me to my warrior – she told me he would be the one for me. She was right.

It’s no wonder we met all those years ago and had our first babies one week apart.

It’s no wonder our boys have mirror allergies. I had been through this desperate search for help – 7 years ago. I knew a man, a doctor, who could help. It was no small miracle – no, it was a merciful miracle that brought healing to my baby boy now growing strong and healthy.

I told her about this doctor, and you know how friends are… the best ones. They believe you when it all seems… rather doubtful.

She and her little guy landed safely in this glitzy town in the middle of a desert. She wound her car down the highway and he stared across the miles of valley,

Mommy, why is it?

My eyes are the same size… but I can see so much more…

Lake in the Desert

Western Skies

And that’s just it. The heart of the matter. Our eyes are the same size, but suddenly… we can see so much more.

Why does it sometimes take so long? And, why can’t everyone see it?

It’s right there in front of us, but we can be so blind.

Maybe sometimes it takes a step. A step in faith.

What are the chances that a doctor in the middle of a brimming city – in the middle of a stark desert – can provide a healing touch? An answer to the suffering of a little boy.

But, he did. Just like he did years ago for my own son.

What are the chances we can open our same sized eyes and suddenly see differently – all the things we thought we already knew?

What are the chances we can open the eyes we have always had, and suddenly see so much more?

What are the chances a friend can whisper a Truth, and though it seems impossible – unimaginable – it is real?

What are the chances a step in faith can bring us to a place we can see forever?

Maybe sometimes it just takes one step…

I’d bet my life on it.

 

2 Corinthians 4:18

So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen.  For what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal.

Karin Madden

Filed Under: A Day in the Life, Faith, Friendship Tagged With: open eyes to see, stuff kids say, take a step

January 16, 2014 by Karin 16 Comments

Why Every Day Should Be The Third Day

I wrote this on the third day.  The third day of this new year – and here it is – already the sixteenth.

And I’m learning to rise… eyes open a little more with each sunrise…

 

It’s the third day. He rose on the third day.

It makes me think that maybe I should rise, too.

It makes me think that maybe I should have risen earlier this morning.

Maybe I should follow through with the P90X re-do I have promised myself.

Maybe I should have cooked eggs and bacon – their favorites – instead of cereal… again.  Maybe I should finish putting away the Christmas decorations, even though I feel like I am closing another book – and the books that are left in this life are getting fewer.

Maybe I should clean the den, sprinkled with cheese hardened on a coffee table – left by tiny hands.

Maybe I should wash another load filled with messes of memories from the day and the week before.

Maybe I should fold the piles strewn across the love seat – piles that are preferred for climbing much more than folding.

Maybe I should clean the dishes from yet another storm of grilled cheese, pancakes, and mac ‘n cheese.

Maybe I should take out the brimming trash or ask my 12-year-old to do it. Then I see him head out the front door with a grin – there’s nothing quite like 12-year-old buddies. And I remember being 12, and 22, and 32, and 42…

Maybe I should clean the bedrooms, or vacuum – though it scares the baby – and maybe she doesn’t hear the vacuum quite enough…

It’s the third day and I’ve come to know that the third day becomes the third month in a flash. Then the tenth – and before we know it, it’s another year.

One more chapter – another book closes.

It’s the third day and I wonder why I freeze in time and turn around – trying to hold to the second day, and the first…

It’s the third day and I remember He rose on the third day.

Maybe it’s time to rise.  Not to fill the list of to-do’s, the I-need-to’s, the we-really-ought-to’s.  Maybe it’s just time to wake up and see that every day brings in the new.  The new that is born from yesterday’s new.

Maybe I should just remember that He rose.  Whether it’s the third day, or the last.

There is always a new one to follow.  Just because He rose.

The books that have closed are just part of an endless series.  Endless.

Maybe if we just remember that, we will wake with new eyes – a new hope.

This day, and every day after this one, is just the beginning…

Every day brings open doors

Alexander Graham Bell said it well,

When one door closes, another opens; but we often look so long and regretfully upon the closed door, that we do not see the one that has opened for us.

Maybe it is just because of the third day that we have open doors.

Maybe we just have to rise.

 

And it’s now the sixteenth day.

And I’ve since begun to rise a little bit earlier.

I’ve started the exercise re-do I promised myself… after all, the new P90X3 is only 30 minutes – surely I can find thirty minutes.

And I’ve cooked eggs, but not the bacon.

I’ve cleaned the messes left by tiny hands, but you wouldn’t know it.

The laundry has since been washed and worn, and has returned to rest in the pile of dirties.

The vacuum has once again scared the baby, though she’s starting to sort of like it.

Christmas has been put away and the book has been closed.  

The new chapter is open – and it includes three tooth fairy visits since the third day – and the tooth fairy is going broke.

The door is open and the sunlight streams in.  The rising sun beckons.

The risen Son holds true to His promises, and with bent knees the day brings new life.

And, maybe every day should be the third day…

 

Lamentations 3:22-24

Because of the Lord’s great love we are not consumed, for his compassions never fail.  They are new every morning; great is your faithfulness.  I say to myself, “The Lord is my portion; therefore I will wait for him.”

Karin Madden

Filed Under: A Day in the Life, Faith, Hope, The Good Stuff Tagged With: a new day, open door, rise, the good stuff, the third day

January 13, 2014 by Karin 16 Comments

When You Need To Hear You Are Amazing

We sank down into the couch.

Coffee mugs in hand and kids run amuck through the house.

It doesn’t take long to know when you’ve met a kindred spirit. The kind you can laugh with from that place deep in your gut. The one you can cry streams of mascara with, or better yet, wear no make-up at all. The one you can share stories with that are so poignant and profound, you both get goosebumps that won’t quit.

I tend to tune the kids out at moments like this… maybe a little too well. My husband jokes it’s an acquired skill. I held up my mug proudly,

Take a look at this.

The green mug inscribed with the words “You are an amazing woman.”

Etched into the lip of the cup are the words “Many women have done excellently, but you surpass them all. ~ Proverbs 31:29”

You are an amazing woman

She smiled and tilted her head,

Aww.

I knew what she was thinking. A gift from my warrior. I laughed,

I got it for myself.

Her eyes widened and filled.  I smiled,

You know, sometimes we have to tell this to ourselves.

The mug was a Christmas present to myself. Shopping online for my warrior – who was in dire need of a Guinness hat with the bottle opener in the bill – I stumbled across the mug that beckoned from the screen. You are an amazing woman. I need to see that. I need to drink coffee from that cup.

Add to cart.

Sometimes we just need to tell it to ourselves.

We are quick to the punch when the punch is directed at our own faces.

We are quick to stamp “bad mommy” on our chests.

We are quick to beat up and bully and berate ourselves for all the little things we get wrong. And that is all wrong. We are amazing women. I didn’t make it up. The words come right from the Source.

We are amazing and good. We fall and fail and mess-up and miss it… sometimes. But, we are amazing.

The mug doesn’t say perfect. Just amazing. And that is all we need to hear – and read – today.

So, when you happen upon a Superman T-shirt in your favorite disposable clothing store – for, say, $7 – call it a Supermom shirt and wear it.

Supermom

When your kids say “you’re the best mom” – believe it.

When your husband says “you’re awesome” – know it.

When your friends say “there is no one like you” – own it.

When… you don’t hear any of these words from a single soul… listen to me… you are.  I didn’t make it up.

When you see the mug that says “you are beautiful” or “you are the best” or “you are an amazing woman” – drink from it.

I didn’t make it up. HE made you up – He doesn’t mess up.

He made this jar of clay that is – you.

His cup is never-ending… let Him fill yours.

You are amazing.

 

Psalm 139:14

I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made; your works are wonderful, I know that full well.

Karin Madden

 

Filed Under: A Day in the Life, Faith, The Good Stuff Tagged With: own it, tell yourself, you're amazing

January 9, 2014 by Karin 14 Comments

When We Don’t Know Much About The Proof Of Love

I hear their little voices ringing in the background. My head is starting to hurt. I hear the beep of the microwave reminding me the coffee from this morning has been reheated… again. And here I sit looking for revelation in a keyboard. I forgot again. Stop and pray and ask…

I’m listening to The Proof of Your Love and I remember now… 15 years ago.

Let my life be the proof of Your love.

I remember the vows this war bride took in a dimly lit church on a cold winter Saturday night in January. It was only months after I met him. Only months after our engagement. Only months after the first deployment. Separated from this man I loved and planned to marry – and I didn’t even know yet. I didn’t know how much things would change.

I called the Scottish priest on the phone. It was Saturday afternoon. Just the night before, our squadron commander pulled me aside, knowing we were planning a wedding,

They are leaving days from now. I just want you to know… in case you feel like you need to make plans.

The story is familiar to many military brides. The marriage… followed by the wedding.

I remember when we fell head over heels in just weeks… days, really. He pulled me close and told me of the risks of loving a warrior. You can lose more than your heart, you know. He wanted me to be sure – to give me one more chance to bail. You could have sooner cut my heart from my chest. I was in… for the long haul. Of course we don’t know what the long haul is when we hitch up our trailers.

The priest in his thick Scottish voice laughed,

Don’t marry him!

I laughed, relieved to find humor in the moment. He continued,

When is he leaving?

I answered, not quite believing the road we were on,

Only a few days now. Tuesday, I think. Will you marry us?

His tone took a note of warm sincerity,

Of course I will, my dear. Come to mass tonight. Six o’clock. Stay after everyone leaves. I’ll clear the church quickly and we’ll marry you then.

My head was spinning, but my heart beat steadily. The fast sure resolve in this beating chest reassured me. We don’t much need our heads in moments like this. They just get in the way. The heart – all things flow from this pumping organ.

We drove in the darkness toward the old brick church in the middle of our small southern town. Both sets of eyes facing forward as he reached for my hand. There is something about taking the grandeur out of a wedding; wearing a black skirt with a tan sweater, holding hands in the dark of night while you drive toward your wedding vows, that reminds you why you are jumping into this unknown. The proof of your love.

The old church

The service murmured in the back of our thoughts while we smiled knowingly at each other. He squeezed my hand tighter as he tilted his head toward the stained glass to our right. Marriage. The kaleidoscope of carefully placed mosaics glowed above us. Marriage. That’s what it said under the intricate hands that grasped each other – just like ours.

The service ended; our hearts raced. This fiery Scottish priest beamed and patted backs as he hurriedly ushered the masses to the door. He glanced over to us and smiled. The reassuring smile of man whose heart is driven by God,

I’d like for you to meet someone. I asked them to stay behind. We need witnesses, you know.

I didn’t know. I’d never done this bride thing before,

Oh, yes, of course.

We turned and smiled at the couple standing by the pews. They wore jeans and jackets and grinned at us wide-eyed.

The wife smiled sheepishly,

I would have worn something nicer than jeans if I had known we were going to a wedding tonight.

I laughed,

I haven’t known much longer than you.

We walked toward the altar and I looked up at the crucifix. The dim candlelight flickered time to a standstill. One of those moments that time becomes meaningless. The cross above us – the only other Witness to this union.

The moment hung in the air with the vows we pledged and the prayers we prayed. Our hearts beat a steady drum. Shaking hands placed the Claddagh of our wedding bands – friendship, love, and loyalty.

And the candles flickered. The proof of our love.

Claddagh bands

I looked up. His body nailed to that cross. I didn’t know much about the Man who hung above us. I knew enough to bring me into this House wrapped in glistening stained glass. I didn’t know much about Him then, even as the proof of His love hung before my newly married eyes.

I didn’t know much about hitching a wagon to a warrior’s life or the real meaning behind these sworn vows.

I didn’t know much about hearts melting together and living oceans apart over and over again.

I didn’t know much about love forming life and the patter of feet all over a home.

I didn’t know much about the stubbornness of self and pride and all the things that bring us to collide.

I didn’t know much about being willing to die for the new life that comes from this union under a cross – or being married to a man willing to die for a country.

I didn’t know love is good, love is hard, love is sacrifice.

I didn’t know much of anything, really.

I didn’t know the proof of love had been written Ages ago.

Newlywed war bride

 

Patter of feet

Faith is funny that way. It breathes life when you don’t even know you are breathing.

It enters that moment you are willing to bend a knee on an altar – even when you don’t quite know Whom you are bending a knee to.

It fills you up when you just begin to bow.

It enters your soul when you ask,

Who are You?

It was 15 years ago today. This war bride story of mine.

And all the while, the Son of Man has looked down and poured out the proof of His love.

And it doesn’t matter if we get it.

He. gets. us.

And we bend our knees and we bow…

and we whisper…

Thank You.

 

1 Corinthians 13:4-7, 13

Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It is not rude, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres…

And now these three remain: faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is love.

Karin Madden

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Filed Under: Faith, Love, Marriage, Military Tagged With: love and marriage, mawwiage, war brides

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Meet Karin

Hi! My name is Karin Madden. Writer. Warrior wife. Mom of six pack. Homeschooler. German-blooded southerner. Welcome to the place where I explore what it means to grow stronger - spirit, soul, and body. I write to inspire and encourage - to remind you we are not alone. By being bold with grace and speaking truth in love, we can become who we are meant to be. I'm glad you are here.

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