If the Lord has allowed my emptiness, then, He cares for me. I have not been overlooked nor dismissed.  If the Lord has made me empty, then, it is His intent to change the content of who I am.  He has a new and better work to do within the deepest parts of my heart.
 
A disobedient vessel cannot be changed. A distracted vessel cannot be changed. A vessel full of selfish ambition cannot be changed. A vessel who loves most in the wrong direction cannot be changed, but an empty vessel, it is ready for a sanctifying work.
 
It is prepared to be filled with all that is holy. It is singularly focused on Him. It loves its Creator the most because it is solely dependent upon the mastery of His hands.
​(c) 2017 Victoria Paxton

​Many times they have persecuted me from my youth up; yet they have not prevailed against me. Psalm 129:2

There’s a hum of testosterone that fills the air at my house. If you listen closely, you might hear it.  If not, you’ll surely feel it.  It’s a vibrato of sorts, a vibration that permeates every nook and cranny of the place we call home.
 
There’s something about two or more boys sharing close quarters.  I don’t know too much about the ‘or more’ part, but I know enough to concede that any mom raising a large consortium of boy men will need extra prayers.
 
My home is in a disarray that cannot be put into words.  I wait for the next broken something. It could be a bone.  It could be a lamp. Sometimes, I don’t actually see a boy move by me.  I only feel the wind from their run and the smell of the outdoors.
 
What have I learned about boy men?
 
Clothes are optional.  If clothes must be worn, jockeys it will be. 
     
If all clothes must be worn, jockeys it will not be. 
 
Everything is a competition—such as, walking to the car, buckling a seatbelt, peeing, eating,               going to bed, and taking a bath. If it gets done quicker or better, it’s a win. 

Nudity is funny. Your own nudity is preferable. 
 
The name of the game is to have the loudest, stink worthy fart of all time.  Burping earns bonus points. Getting by with it at the dinner table is a double-dog dare.

Using the restroom is not necessary. Peeing is necessary. Doing it in the privacy of a bathroom is not.  

Brothers who pee together stay together. 

Everything can and will be used as a weapon of mass destruction. 

Mechanical devices are fair game if tools are nearby. 

Doors are never closed.  They simply slam. 

Groceries are gone in a matter of days.  Buy large quantities.  It won’t matter. You’ll still be standing in the check-out line of your local supermarket on a Wednesday. 
           
                                                                     And, lastly
 
Boys love their dogs and their momma—almost as much as they love their daddy. 
So, tonight if you can wrangle your boys into the tube, kiss their sweet smelling cheek goodnight, and thank The Lord that you survived another day of being a boy mom.

​(c) 2017 Victoria Paxton

And it came to pass, that as the people pressed upon him to hear the word of God, he stood by the lake of  Gennesaret,
And saw two ships standing by the lake: but the fisherman were gone out of them, and were washing their nets.
And he entered into one of the ships, which was Simon's, and prayed him that he would thrust out a little from the land.  And he sat down, and taught the people out of the ship.
Now when he had left speaking, he said unto Simon, Launch out into the deep, and let down your nets for a draught.
And Simon answering said unto him, Master, we have toiled all the night, and have taken nothing: nevertheless at thy word I will let down the net.
And when they had this done, they enclosed a great multitude of fishes: and their net brake.
And they beckoned unto their partners, which were in the other ship, that they should come and help them.  And they came, and filled both the ships, so that they began to sink.
When Simon Peter saw it, he fell down at Jesus' knees, saying, Depart from me; for I am a sinful man, O Lord.
For he was astonished, and all that were with him, at the draught of the fishes which they had taken:
And so was also James, and John, the sons of Zebedee, which were partners with Simon, Fear not; from henceforth thou shalt catch men.
And when they had brought their ships to land, they forsook all, and followed him.
                                                                      Luke 5 1-11

     As much as I like science, it's the statistics behind the science that really call to me.  The realist in me wants to know her odds, and the faith in me wants to know the odds that her God is going to overcome.  I wrestle between the two---my odds and my faith.  We all do.  Needless to say, when I heard these verses of scripture, I sat up and took notice.  Actually, my eyes took notice. They filled with tears. The odds said there would be no fish in that net. Faith said listen to the Rabbi.  Everyday, just as Simon Peter did, we choose between our odds and our faith--the concrete, what we can see and touch, and the unseen, the Father's promises and precepts. 

    What happens when we choose to let down our nets, even in the face of disappointment? The disciples had clearly been disappointed. What happens when we resolve, through the power of the Holy Spirit, to follow Him when it doesn't make sense, when it hurts, when the most we can muster is a "Help me, Father", when we can't see through our anger or our tears, when our home is silent, when our future is shattered, when there are no pieces to pick up because the pieces are simply gone.  So... what happens?

     Casting our nets after disappointment means we do what is counter-intuitive to our logic.  Simon made this point to Christ. "We've worked all night and caught nothing."  Peter had the feeling he was wasting his time, but he had enough faith to obey--despite his doubts.  Notice there is no sentence of rebuke from Christ written between Simon Peter's statement of the obvious and his obedience to Christ. Faith, which translates into obedience, doesn't have to come without fear or hurt or questions. It means faith should follow even in the presence of all these emotions. Through tears, confusion, and disappointment, we cast our nets.


We Get a Glimpse of the Savior
     We would be remise if we mistook the fish as the blessing.  Read the last line of the passage. They left the fish! They forsook everything. The fish were nothing to Peter, James, and John. This scripture is not about Jesus giving a group of fisherman a bunch of fish. It's about the Giver of the fish. The miracle caused these boys to get a glimpse of the Savior.  They recognized His sovereignty over all of creation. They knew they had come in contact with the real deal, the Messiah.


     This recognition started to change the fishermen from the inside out.  Peter fell at Jesus' feet and confessed his tenacity for being a sinner.  He realized who he was in relationship to the Messiah.  Jesus was God and worthy of Simon's everything.  It was the day Simon Peter surrendered his life to Christ.  He would never be the same.


   Obedience in the face of disappointment--complete disaster, even the kind that seems unfixable--changes who we are because it changes how we see the Father. Our minds can not get an understanding of our Father if we sit with clinched fists and fear in our hearts, refusing to listen to His call. It is impossible for the Savior to transform our hearts when we choose self-preservation over the One who wants to transform our inward parts.  
    
     When we answer, "Yes." and walk in the paths He has called us to, He starts the renovation. Everyone's call is different, but there's always a call. The answer is our choice. To say yes means, we begin to see the sovereignty of Jesus.  There is nothing that is beyond His sphere of control. It changes our hearts. It makes us more like Him. Our lives are never the same.


We Get a Glimpse of Our Future
     The fish represented a much larger idea. Jesus was in essence saying, "You ain't seen nothin', yet!"  The fish were a picture of the men's lives that would be impacted by Peter, James, and John's obedience. They were going to turn the world upside down for Christ.  They got a glimpse of their futures, and the futures were way cooler than being fishermen.  Christ allowed them this insight.  They clearly could have had no idea of the scope of their influence, but it was enough of a glimpse for them to be all in.


    Refusing to allow disappointment to hinder our full-on surrender to Christ can do the same for us. Christ gives us a glimpse of our future. Sticking with Him means we are allowed to experience the weaving back together of our broken dreams. We start to recognize that with Christ our futures are unbreakable.We, like the Disciples, will never know nor understand the full impact we will have on future generations, but what casting our nets teaches us is that we are unstoppable, invincible. We are more that conquerors with Christ.  


He is our future.

Originally written September 2013

      My mind is on the third anniversary of the death of my eldest son.  It's coming Tuesday.  I know this because I can feel it in the pit of my stomach.  It's the familiar ache, the one I felt on that first day. 

      Tuesday is coming.  Tuesday is coming for us all.  We will all have days that transcend human reason, human strength, human fairness.  There will be days that leave us gutted, lying and bleeding, fighting for breath.  There will be days when breath seems a bother.  There will be days when all the eggs in our basket lie shattered at our feet as we frantically try to piece them back together, rewind time, wish it had never happened, fail to make the connection in our minds that this life will never be what it once was.

     What do we do with our Tuesdays?  Not the first or the second ones, but when they start to come year after year.  The first years, they are meant for grief, but after that.  What do we do with those days that start to hold us captive, the anniversaries, the birthdays?  What do we do when we start to hear Christ calling us to freedom from our Tuesdays?  I hear Him calling....I want to be free.

     I will trust Him.  I will remember His promises, but, at this moment, not without a shaky resolve.  Today, I feel as though I am standing on the edge of an abyss, waiting to furl myself into the darkness, with the hope that I will feel His arms gather around me as I answer His call.  Freedom can be found in the arms of my Father.  I know because I have been there many times.

     As Tuesday comes, I want to dare to be as Christ in my thinking.  I want to dare to celebrate Tuesday, to see from eternity's point of view.  I want to dare to be unselfish, to give my child, with open hands, to the King.  I want to dare to be happy, on my Tuesday, because Jesus paid our sin debt and there is hope in the cross.

     As Tuesday comes, I want to be about my Father's business, an impossibility within my own strength. I want to love my family, my friends, my students.  I want to be faithful. I do not want to come down off my Nehemiah's wall.  Fatigue grips me at the thought of loving anyone besides myself on my Tuesday.  It will be the Holy Spirit who will need to do this improbable work.  I cannot. 

     My mind is on doing the hard things.  My mind is on Christ.  Tuesdays are the days that go far beyond anything that we could ever repair.  They are the days that our Father sets aside to reflect His glory, the days when we can only point to Him between our labored breath and whisper, It is He, not I. May I point to Jesus on my Tuesday.  May you point to Jesus on your Tuesday.  May we whisper His name to a lost and hurting world.  May we point them to the cross of Calvary.

(c) 2017 Victoria Paxton


                                                                      
                                                                     
                                                                  
                                                                   
                                                                   
                                                                    
                                                                   
                                 ​

I know some women and a few men who walk amongst us. They are quiet and steady, and their work is constant. They are constant. Days turn into weeks. Weeks turn into years. The impossibility of the mundane turns into simply the possible,

The possible work of a teacher.

I know some women and a few men who walk amongst us. They are quiet and steady, and their work is constant. They have a gift. If you’re watching closely you’ll see Him. He’s within, and He shines out. The impossibility of the mundane turns into simply the possible because it is He whom they carry within.

He makes the work of a teacher possible.

Legs are not healed, but minds are.
Wounds are bound,
Emotions soothed.

Limps become walks.
Walks become runs.
The impossible becomes possible.
Tedious, hard, work fueled by The Spirit of God makes miracles happen.

I know some women and a few men who walk amongst us. They are quiet and steady, and their work is constant. They believe in the power of a Living God. If you’re watching closely, you’ll see Him. He’s within, and He shines out. He turns the mundane into purpose.

He is the source of the miracles that they perform as the days turn to weeks and the weeks into years.

Legs are not healed, but minds are.
Limps become walks.
Walks become runs.

If you’re watching closely, you’ll see Him.
​
​(c) 2017 Victoria Paxton

Charlotte pinned the words to Just As I Am in the year 1834. She was an invalid, bed ridden, watching life and service to her King pass her by.
Charlotte felt useless,
Unworthy of Christ’s love.
She struggled to find her purpose.
Charlotte was depressed.
She was as human as we are human.
 
Exactly one hundred years later, a young, sixteen year old boy, named William Graham, surrendered his life to Christ. We know him as Billy.
 
Billy went on to be the most renowned evangelist of modern times.
Under the sound of Billy’s pleas for salvation, thousands gave their lives to Christ and in the background of every invitation there could be heard the old hymn, Just As I Am, written by a girl who was in the midst of one of her darkest hours
who was throwing herself
at the feet of Jesus
and who was reminding herself
of the truths
of His salvation.
 
Charlotte died not knowing that the words she wrote would be instrumental in the salvation of so many, but there was something that Charlotte did know. She knew that she was utterly dependent on the sacrificial death and atonement of Jesus Christ.
 
She clung to Him, and she did one more thing.
 
She took what God had allowed in her life and the talent that God had given her, and she worship Him when it felt like she had no use.
Charlotte took the tools that she had in front of her and made an unknown impact on eternity.
 
Charlotte didn’t plan on being an invalid at the age of 32, and we don’t plan on feeling sidelined and without a purpose, either.
 
Childless.
One less child.
Two less children.
Maybe, more.
Floating, reevaluating God’s goodness, our worth, why we were created.
 
God has a plan, and it’s probably not going to look like what we expected.
But, He is still God,
And, His work is eternal.
That means that he sees the dominoes of worship as they fall into the next generation, something that’s impossible for we finite creations.
 
We may stay childless, and many of us will have one less, maybe more, empty places at our table.
It won’t change.
 
But, we can be a Charlotte.
 
We can be brave enough to do what we can for today, to worship Him in our neediness.
We can become mountain movers, born out of sheer desperation.
We can, unknowingly, out live our lives.
 
We can throw ourselves at the feet of a loving Father and unwittingly bring others along with us.
 
Father, make us dependent.
Make us broken.
And,
Mostly, make us courageous.
​
​(c) 2017 Victoria Paxton
 

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The Closet was written somewhere between the death of my oldest son and the adoption of my youngest son. It was in that space of time that God revealed Himself to me; holy, powerful, all-consuming, able to rescue us from the darkest places,  a hope giving Father.  We are never left alone if we dare to trust His presence and providence.






_________________________________________________________________________________
   
     There's a closet in my home where the Shekinah glory of God resides.  It's down a narrow hall, last door to the left. That's my son's room.  Within the room, the closet rests.  Shekinah---His presence. It bears repeating--- The presence of the Glory of God.  His presence does not go unnoticed. It does not go unmarked. It is the place where miracles happy---where the impossible transpires. We have seen the hand of a mighty God within the confines of a hollow space.  God filling a hollow space, He's good at that.
     Shekinah presence led the children of Israel to the Promised land, destroying armies, giving provision, parting the sea, leading day and night. His glory is not found in boot strap moments. It's found in the deserts of life, the moments only He can  heal, the moments that are empty of self, the hollow moments. He fills the hollow spaces.
      The closet knew Shekinah glory in the mere seconds that pass while passing between life and death--our boy, received into the presence of the Father. He slipped from death into life. God did not miss the moment. He was present. He was in the hollow space. He filled the space.
      Shekinah glory thrusts itself into the horrific places, the places we are too weak and too human to claim.  It thrusts itself into a closet that was meant for destruction. It thrusts, saturates, permeates itself into a broken home, into broken hearts of flesh,  those that could only bring themselves to sleep in the farthest reaches of  a home, far away from the closet, piled all in one space. It was a hollow space. He filled the space. He's good at that.
      Shekinah glory, the presence of the Glory of God, surrounded a mother, dragging herself to claim the closet, holding the hand of Glory. Her Father met her in the floor of the closet.  Some days were numb, others weeping. Some days were anger and rebellion. God did not miss the moment.  He was present. He filled the hollow spaces.
       It is He who began to change the hollow space of the closet.  Shekinah glory calls us into obedience.  His kind of obedience demands love.  It is how we know He has been in a space. He propels us to lands far away, across ocean and continent. He calls us to fill the hollow spaces.  The empty, long neglected places of an orphan. Of course, He's really filling the spaces. He's good at that.
      There's a closet in my home where the Shekinah glory of God resides. It's down a narrow hall, last door to the left.  That's my sons' room. Within the room, the closet rests. It overflows with toys, baskets of shoes, half hung clothes, and a pile of hand-me-downs---awaiting another trip across ocean  and continent, another orphan-- and life, yes, life.  It comes from a little boy. He has my heart, but not my DNA.  It's the kind of life that comes from empty spaces being filled. That's how we know He's been there.  He fills the hollow spaces.  He's good at that.

​(c) 2017 Victoria Paxton
   
     

​On a regular basis, I make my way down the hallway to my boys’ bedroom. It’s at bedtime. They share a room and a bunkbed. I kneel down beside the lower bunk, face to face with the baby, the other hanging over the edge of the top bunk, and I have a conversation with the Lord about them.
 
I thank God for them.  They are gifts.
I pray that the two of them will submit their lives to Christ and will have an insatiable desire to follow after Him.
Then, I ask that they be made into warriors- not the kind that travel to foreign lands and battle against freedom’s foes, but spiritual warriors.
 
Unapologetic
Faithful
Loving
Courageous
Warriors of the Gospel
 
I speak into their future, pleading their cause as husbands and fathers.
I remind God that somewhere there is a girl who will be his wife.
Grow her, Lord.
Do a work in her,Father.
 
And more often times than not, I finish by having a conversation with the Lord about their sister and her husband.
I want the boys to know that
Out of sight
Doesn’t mean
Out of this Momma’s
Mind.
 
I pray the future that God desires for my children. I come boldly before His holy throne because I am seeking His desires—right relationship with God, right relationship with others.
 
James 4:3 You ask and do not receive, because you ask with wrong
motives, so that you may spend it on your own pleasures.
 
Are we praying God’s plan for our children, or are we praying for bragging rights?
 
I pray into the ears of my little ones because words can produce life and favorable outcomes.
 
Proverbs 18:21 Death and life are in the power of the tongue; and they that love it produce the fruit thereof.
 
Those precious, innocent children that our Father has entrusted to us believe every single word that flows from our lips, every word. Speaking the authority of God’s Word over them produces the fruits that we want to see grow and ripen in their lives.
 
I speak to The Father about my children because I believe it so deeply that it flows from my heart, straight out of my mouth, and to the feet of The Holy One.
 
Matthew 12:34 You brood of vipers! How can you speak good, when you are evil? For out of the abundance of the heart the mouth speaks.
 
When we use our voice to plead our children’s causes, we are indicating to Christ that we believe and trust in His promises.
 
Lord, give us the wisdom to seek Your plan for Your treasures. Give us the courage to come into the Holy of Holies with great tenacity, over and over again, and gently coax us to gather up our blessings and speak words of life over their purpose and future. 

​(c) 2017 Victoria Paxton
 
 
 

Expectation can be a tricky thing. It can lead us to success. Maybe, it's the idea of a self-fulfilling prophecy. We think it. We believe it. We expect higher results, and we get them---most of the time. Then, there are the other times, the times when our expectations are not met. We trip. We fall. We fail. Unmet expectations can lead to disappointment. Disappointment can challenge our faith. It can challenge our ability to make decisions. It can challenge our self-worth. It can challenge our purpose for existing---the reason we were put here to do this thing called life. How do we overcome disappointment? Better yet, how do we toss it to the side of the road and continue strong in our faith walk?

Be Honest

No one has ever overcome disappointment by hiding it or trying to manage it away. Certainly, no one has ever received healing and freedom from disappointments by ignoring them and stuffing the problem into our hearts. I can be the worst with this. Here are a few lies that we continue to stumble over when it comes to overcoming our disappointment.

• Others won't care about my disappointments. Not sharing our disappointments can be a dangerous thing. When we carry disappointment around within us, it becomes cancerous. Others want to hear about our hurts, but if we allow the disappointment to chisel away at our hearts and we become mean and nasty, the people we love the most may decide that they don't want to help after all. They may choose to love us from a distance.
• I will pull others down with my problems. I don't want to hurt the ones I love; therefore, I choose to hide my pain. Just the opposite! When we don't share our disappointments, we are robbing someone of a blessing. Sharing our disappointments grows not only your faith but others' faith, too. When we share our wounds, we are blessed. The person who cares for us is blessed, and the Kingdom is advanced.
• I can handle my disappointment on my own. Pride gets us every time! We cannot handle disappointment alone. Christ knows this. It is why He ordained the institutions of family and church. We are too weak to handle life as an island. Leaning on those around us is okay. It's the way it's supposed to work.
• I will be judged for my disappointments. Maybe...but more often times than not, when I share my disappointments with someone who has earned the right to know my hurts, those whom I have done life with and have proven to be trustworthy and constant, I'm pleasantly surprised to find that they are not nearly as shocked as I would have expected. Of course, sharing intimate details of our lives should be done wisely, but everyone should have one or two trusted friends who have stuck it out with them through the years and that they can unload on from time to time, especially when the going gets tough.

I believe that Thomas, the disciple got this one right. No one is going to applaud him for his lack of faith, but he does deserve a round of applause for his honesty. The poor guy's gotten beaten up over the years for just saying what everyone of Jesus' followers had thought at some point and time between Christ's death and resurrection. John 20:25 ..... But he (Thomas) said to them, "Unless I see in His hands the imprint of the nails, and put my finger into the place of the nails, and put my hand into His side, I will not believe."


It's easy to get caught up in the negativity of Thomas' unbelief and to miss a valuable lesson that is taught when we read about the interaction between Thomas and Jesus just a few short verses later. How did Jesus respond to Thomas' brutal honesty? John 20:27 Then He (Jesus) said to Thomas, Reach here with your finger, and see My hands; and reach here your hand and put it into My side; and do not be unbelieving, but believing." Jesus HEARD him! He came to Thomas. He met the need that Thomas needed to have met in order for Thomas to believe. Jesus loved Thomas! He loves us!


When we are honest about our disappointments, it opens the door for Christ to work through Believers to heal our wounds. But better yet, more than anything else that anyone could do for us, Christ comes to us and whispers, " Here are my scars. I died for you. I love you. Rest and believe. "


​(c) 2017 Victoria Paxton