This last week was the very first Luminous Conference. And man-oh-man was it spectacular. I plan on sharing some of its wisdom later in the week. But for now, cause I’ve had some people ask, I am going to post my notes from the Spark Talk that Chad Jarnagin asked me to do on Thursday. There were about 8 of us who shared a topic that might encourage or inspire…something to Spark the minds.

So…here you go!,

I forget that I am a creative. I forget that I am an artist and a creator simply by default. It is in my nature, having been created by the Creator of Creation, to create.

The one who gave Creativity its definition… defined me…Defined you.

It’s already in us to tap into at any moment.

I once heard it said that… Nature gives us color – Culture gives us art.

Everything around us is our canvas. Nature gives us form, shapes, smells, feel…We get to turn that into art.

I used to teach 2nd grade students. WAY before I knew what my strengths were. I remember how frustrated I’d get when at art time I would supply the students with everything they’d need to create a masterpiece, often times with clear instructions, yet so many would just sit there, idle. Either not knowing what to do or doubting they could even do anything at all.

I wonder if God looks at all He has created and nods His holy head in approval at the tree who blooms spring after spring because that is what it was created to do. I wonder if He sings along with the birds, without fail, each morning – joining in on their choruses because that’s simply what they were created to do.

Then…I wonder if He shakes that same Holy Head of His in the same frustration I did at those 2nd graders because I am not, yet again, utilizing the tools and gifts He has set right in front of and in me. Tools, strengths, abilities…permission…to create something in a way that only I can, so that I might add to His canvas.

In this room sits over a 100 creatives, the extension of their Creator, who are building community and creating culture within their skill-sets.

Each day is a new canvas we get to illuminate with art. Are we seizing those moments?

Do you know what your art is supposed to look like? What are your strengths? Are you doing what you’re supposed to do simply because that’s just what you were created for…like the tree that blooms without fail? Are you painting your canvas each day with that creative gene your Creator built into you?

I am not a speaker. Yet, I’ve known ever since I was a little girl that I would become a speaker some day. And, well, Chad has thrown me smack into it…this very minute, for the first time. He gave me the chance to back out…but having thought about this topic I’m sharing with you I knew I had to buck up & live it out.

This morning I had to choose to pick up the paintbrush for this day and run to THIS canvas. I don’t know if I’ll leave a smudge or a thing of beauty…in either case I am not painting to succeed or for accolades but simply because my soul is drawn to this.

And canvases were not meant to be blank.

So, in closing I’d like to SPARK y’all a bit and encourage you to grab your brushes and paint your canvas each day. Paint them with the creative strengths He has built in to you. And make no apologies…He’s not sorry.

With each stroke of every brush our canvases, together,  illuminate His story, illustrated by His creative creation.

Sometimes, I just don’t understand. I don’t understand many things.

You can tell me how our planet suspends in space…but I won’t understand it.

You can tell me, till you are blue in the face, how an airplane stays in the sky and I will never wrap my head around it.

You can explain to me why hair and nails continue to grow after we die and not only will that freak me out but I will, also, still not understand why.

Another thing I will never understand…Why is it acceptable that grown men with moobs can walk around in public shirtless but a woman can not? Not that I would!! But seriously now. One of my male neighbors was cutting his grass this week without his shirt off. I had to cover my little kittens eyes. He had more going on than any woman I personally know.

Just another thing I will never understand.

How about you? What odd things do you question?

This is the day. The day she has been waiting for for a very long time. And, surprisingly, the day I’ve waited for with excitement, too.

Wednesday, April 18th, Kassidi turns 18. She’s excited. I’m excited.

Yes, a lot of my heart is sad because this is one more day closer to the day she leaves our nest. Yet, I am just as much thrilled that she is 18 now. I can’t wait to see how she takes these last 18 years and incorporates them into her young adult life. Who will she ultimately become? What will she do? Who will she marry? How much money will she make for her parents when she gets her big break?

I’ve said it before…Kassidi is the young lady I always wanted to be. Always. She exudes confidence. She loves people. She is smart and adapts to any situation. She is a go-getter and always ready for a challenge. She does not shrink back. She knows who she is and Whose she is…and that is good enough for her.

Baby girl, I am so incredibly proud of you. You have grown into a beautiful young woman in so many ways.

Keep your focus on God and the things around you will not blur. If they do blur, readjust your focus on the right thing again.

Kass, you know we are one body – many parts – keep playing your part faithfully with all the excellence in you. And do it for God’s glory and approval alone. This will keep your feet firmly planted on humble/solid ground…exactly where you want them.

And on a personal note…our talks, our late nights talks…I will always be here for those. Always.

Our silly operatic singing in the car…whenever you want.

The fabulous back rubs you give…I’m always willing to be on the receiving end.

The things you just can’t tell anyone else, the heavies you need to get off your chest at 12:23 a.m….I will, still, always be here for those moments too.

I love you, Kassidi. I know you didn’t know, nor did I, how much God would use you to heal me. So, for your life…in so many ways…I am forever grateful.

Happy Birthday, my beautiful first born.

It isn’t the mountains ahead that wear you out, it’s the grain of sand in your shoe.  ~Author Unknown

I am finding this to be more and more true in my own life. There are a lot of big things ahead of me. All filled with potential and wrapped with amazing opportunities.

Once those mountains are reached I will finally hold that potential and opportunity in my hands but dang-it-all-to-heck if that little darn pebble inside my shoe doesn’t keep distracting me from my goal of reaching the top of that mountain.

I am learning more of how I am wired, too. Big things don’t overwhelm me but a series of little ones can. Enter in the pebble. That pesky little pebble. Tripping me up at nearly every step. I used to think I was a procrastinator but I think I am more easily distracted than anything else.

So what is to be done with the pebble? I do not know yet. I need to identify exactly what it is first. And I am thinking it has a different face each day. Perhaps a face that plays into my daily doubts and fears of failing at what I want the most. I am not one for violence but it is beyond time for me to squash these pebbles.

Do you have pebbles in your shoes like me? What can you do about them?

In just a couple months we will have been in Nashville for an entire year. It has gone so fast!

We are beginning to find our way here. Getting used to the accents. Yes, accents. There is TN talk and KY talk. Two completely different languages there, folks.

We have had some fantastic BBQ and have finally learned that, unlike on the west coast, we ‘grill out” here not “BBQ”.

BBQ is what you eat not what you do.

Lesson learned.

I’ve even woken up with a tick on my person. Yup. On my back. Brent had to dig him out. And he got most of it. I’ve not slept well since.

I am sure there are a ton more things to experience, to do, to eat, to see.

So, what are they? All you southerners or people who know what southerners do…what do we yet have to experience? We’ve got a couple months left before we hit that 1 year mark…I wanta fill it up with a bunch of firsts!

Whatcha got for us??

Have you read Heaven by Randy Alcorn? If not, you need to. Like, yesterday. I read it years ago and it transformed my thoughts on death. Near the beginning of the book Randy writes something that anyone that lives with a fear of dying needs to read. Let me say this first – I have feared death since I was an 8 year old little girl. So much goes into it, but it is a fear that I brought into adulthood. A fear that used to frequently wake me in the middle of the night and I would panic just thinking about dying. So reading this book was a great need in my life. In it he said something to this effect…

Fearing death is normal. It is nothing to hide or to be ashamed of. We were created to live forever…for eternity. Then that sin thing ruined it. We know, instinctively, in our spirits, that we are not supposed to die. It isn’t normal. It is not how it was supposed to be.

Suddenly it made so much sense to me. I got it. I understood that.

Well, this week I was thinking about something else in my life that I find myself fighting against…and that’s hurt. Obviously, right? Who wants to feel hurt? Well, no one. But I’m talking more about soaking in it. Reliving it. Making hurt your label or what you’re identified by.

I think the death principle applies here too. It was supposed to be heaven on earth in the beginning. In my head that equals no hurt. And, again, my spirit knows that.

It’s not that I don’t know pain, shame, disappointment or hurt, I do. In fact, I can write a book on it. Wait…I am! The thing is, I don’t like to stay in it. My spirit instinctively knows that I was not meant to live in hurt. So if I have the choice and power not to…then why would I? Why would I continually relive all my pain and resurrect it?

Don’t get me wrong here, I know there are people that are tortured, abused, abandoned and rightfully hurting. I am not saying they should buck up and put a smile on. I’m not that insensitive. I am talking about having the power and choice to heal and disregarding that power and actively choosing not to heal. That is what I feel my spirit fighting against whenever I am tempted to stew in a moment.

And when I am tempted to stew my reasoning is usually selfish. What kind of attention will this get me? What might I gain? What might I be able to avoid? This is when I know I really need to address the hurt and deal with it immediately. I do not want to be responsible for stunting growth because I chose to not move beyond something that should have no power over me in the first place.

Again, I know hurt is a part of this life, this world. I get that. I do. I am not poo-poo’ing hurt all together. We all hurt. Can’t escape it. But we can go beyond the trappings of it. I really believe so.

Do I struggle with feeling hurt? Yup. All the time. Do I like it? Nope. And if I can be a part of mending that hurt and moving on you betcha I am going to as soon as I can.

So to sum it up… I believe we were not meant to sit in hurt. I believe when we choose to there are probably some underlying things going on…deeper than we might even realize. Ranging from the obvious being fear to perhaps feelings of guilt. And I do not believe in sweeping things under the rug. That’s not even a temporary fix, that’s just a recipe for disaster. I believe in standing on the strong feet and foundation God gave us and address the hurt face to face. Learn how it started, why it impacts you the way it does and why you’re holding on to it. Get to know it inside and out so that you can conquer it.

We all have hurt. Regret. Shame. Secrets.

It took me so many years to forgive myself for all the things I had done in my life. And even longer to truly embrace the forgiveness of God. Understanding that kind of forgiveness can be too much to wrap your head around.

But when you can come to the point of forgiving yourself and accepting Gods forgiveness and complete love for you then you’ll find that each day will become easier to live. As the old ways and memories are being healed and worked through your joy and hope begin to increase. You will eventually, one day, only be able to faintly recall the times you were in a deep pit of darkness, a slave to your past…The day will come when you can look at those times of hurt, regret and the “old you” and ask yourself and God….”Ok, what are we going to do with this today?’ Lord, how might You use my past for the benefit of someone else today?” The day will come when your own personal victory will compel you to look outside yourself and urge you to reach out to others…To give back.

Where are you in your journey? What are you holding on to? Why? Be honest in the “Why?”…You might be surprised at what you find.

It is one thing to live life with an absent father. It is another to know, for certain, that there is no longer a chance for reconciliation.

I learned on Saturday night that my father has died. And I have no idea what to do with this. I know I need to process this but my words are a jumbled mess in my head and heart.

There is little history of him in my life. There is this…my first childhood memory. He really didn’t start off well. He did gave me away at my wedding. Seconds before he walked me down the aisle he told me something so hurtful. The photographer captured that moment right as the ushers opened the doors as we made our way to my groom. It’s a picture I just can’t look at in my wedding album. The expressions on our faces are not ones that tell a fairy tale story.

He specialized in hurting others. And I know that hurt people hurt people. And perhaps that’s what makes me the saddest. Was is heart still full of hurt, regret and resentment on his last day? I don’t know.

While that thought makes me sad I am also a little bit angry. I am grieving. But I am not grieving normally. I am not grieving losing him as much as I am grieving losing any opportunity now for hope. But most of all, I am grieving the fact that I can not grieve like a daughter should over the death of her father.

I want to mourn him. I want to sit in my tears recalling our first daddy-daughter dance. I want to recall the moment he had to buy me feminine products for the first time. I want to recall the look on his face the first time a boy picked me up at our house for a date. I want to remember back to eating ice-cream with him on a hot summer day.

I want to…but I can’t. All those moments were just fantasies for me.

I wrote him a letter a year ago that was very therapeutic for me. I doubt he ever saw it. But it was still good for my heart.

So, I will end this post with another letter he will never see…

Dad, I am sorry you are no longer here. I am sorry I didn’t try harder to find you again. Maybe that would have changed things…I just don’t know. I am so sorry for the milestones, memories and moments you missed with my family. I always wondered if you ever thought about us, me, your grandchildren. I thought about you every day. Every day I see Brent with the kids I think about you. I’m sorry you missed so much.

I am not sorry that you are my father. I am not sorry that I am here…thanks, in part, to you. Thank you. I am not sorry for your absence in my life. It has taught me so much. It has made me stronger. And though you may have retreated to hurt me – you likely helped me. So, thank you. Truly…thank you.

That is all, John. I have nothing more to say.

Kassidi. You’ve read many a posts about my daughter, Kassidi.

This weekend she led worship for one of our Cross Point Campuses and I was struck with something new.

My first born…my first chosen born…ushered me into a holy experience with her Creator. Her Protector. The One who said…“No. Not this one. You’re not taking this one. She’s mine.” I realized my first chosen born was a conduit for her Savior to speak to me in a very personal way.

He purposed her to have a chat with my heart – today. Through song. Through melody. Through lyric. Through my first chosen born. Through His chosen one…He spoke to my heart.

His words were personal. Between Him and I. A quick chat and challenge.

But He used my little girl.

Can you understand what this means? Kassidi was my third chance. My third pregnancy. Another opportunity for me to snuff out another life. But God said, “Nope. I’ve had it…I AM setting her aside for great things. And one of those great things is to reveal Myself to you, child.”

Okay. God? I love it when You show off.

Thank You.

So I may think I’m a great mom but I know I am a bad party planner.

Ask my kids. Their birthday parties have never been anything to brag about. Fortunately they are used to it and don’t expect anything more from me. I love that they know I stink at it and give me grace.

But next month my first chosen born turns 18.

[Kass]

EIGHTEEN, ya’ll! That’s a milestone birthday. One that deserves celebration!

One that may require back-up! *wink-wink*

Yes. I need your ideas.

Keeping budget in mind Give me what you got!