All My Love, Gennavieve

In this season of grey, where I do not have many answers, and I am desperately grasping for some small sense of assurance, I keep returning to Psalm 104. This psalm depicts God as the creator and sustainer of all living things. It begins with praise and follows with an outline of God's creation closely reflecting God's work in Genesis when He created the world. Verse 2 explains the "light" and "outstretch of heavens." Verse 3 follows with the "waters" and "clouds," and verse 4 celebrates the "earth's foundations." The Psalter continues with mountains, rivers, springs, and valleys, which the Lord put into "the place that [He] appointed for them" (v. 8). With each aspect of the earth God's masterful detail is present. The following verses explain further what fills the earth and its purpose in God's design for provision. The springs "give drink to every beast of the field" (v. 11), the birds dwel...

I love seasons. I love the anticipation of change and the excitement of what is to come. I love looking forward to days of summer sun and tanned skin, to the crisp air of autumn and the turn of leaves in their color, to the celebrations of winter and the reasons we gather inside, to the newness of spring and the fields blanketed with wildflowers. Yet, I often find myself hesitant to accept seasons of change within my life. Instead of anticipation and excitement, I am filled with fear and dread of what is to come. I am crippled by the unknown and stuck in a trap of comfort which threatens growth, keeping me stagnant, frozen. What would happen if I embraced the constant change of seasons within my life as I did the seasons of the calendar? What freedom would I discover in choosing to anticipate good, beautiful, and unique things only found in specific seasons? Would I not know, more fully, happiness and laughter if I embraced the sadness and depression? Would I not walk willing...

Westcliffe is a small town in Colorado nestled at the base of a towering peak. It is quant, quiet, and eclectic. It's Main Street houses two little coffee shops, a general store, some antique shops, a wood work store, an unbeatable burger shack, and an Amish bakery. The people are simple and sweet. Not the sort of simple which confines them to the narrow judgment of a small-town mindset, but the simple of enjoying each moment the day brings. Every Wednesday the small square is filled with the tables and tents of the Farmer’s Market selling the best jams and jellies, produce and pastries. I approach the market with empty bag in hand and something tasty in mind. I explore the herbs and produce. I decide on some peaches from a man whose companion was a tea cup poodle laying in a doggie bed on the table guarding the peaches, or so I assumed. “What’s his name?” I ask. “Brutus,” the man responds. “He’s a watch dog.” “Guarding your peaches, I see.” “No, no,” the man quickly ...

"I do not understand what I do. For what I want to do I do not do, but what I hate I do." (Romans 7:15) Thanks, Paul. Thanks for getting it, for being real. Sin, hamartia, means falling short of God's righteousness. Paul does not run from the reality of sin. Instead, he exposes the depth of the Christian struggle with sin, giving words to my daily frustration. One can practically feel Paul's intensity increase as the passage continues. His frustration leaps from the page right to the strings of my heart. His words bring comfort because I resonate with him and also teeth grinding aggravation as I face the tension of my sin. What a beautifully tragic discovery for a believer to realize their problems with sin do not vanish when they accept Christ. We are sinners. We are fallen. As descendants of Adam and Eve, we possess a sinful nature. Yet, we are redeemed. Jesus Christ paid the penalty for sin, removing punishment and bringing eternal hope. His bloo...

I am most aware of the uniqueness of my job (working at a Christian Camp) while traveling. Without fail, when I board a flight, the small talk with the strangers in my row will ask the question, "So, what do you do?" To which I reply, "I work at a camp?" "Sorry, I asked what do you do? Not what do you do for fun." I slightly giggle and nod, "I work at a camp." "Oh, are you a park ranger or something?" "No, it is similar to a retreat center." Which always leads to the same question, "So, what do you do when it's not summer?" Classic. The conversation usually involves me explaining further while met with puzzled expressions and fake nods of understanding while closing with "hmmm, interesting" or "well, that's very nice dear." There is so much more. I leave these conversations wishing I could give these strangers a far better picture than my words could ever paint. Yet, how do...

Sometimes, growing up in the Christian church makes the wonder of the Lord and the illuminating power from approaching His throne grow dim beneath the layers of worship services, VBS weeks, small groups, and prayer nights. When I become engulfed in doing I forget the very Being who calls me into His presence. I feel plagued by the to-do lists. I seem to fall short in every area because I am relying on my own strength. So, I find myself searching for a scripted prayer or a passage to bring to the Lord because my words do not seem worthy. I avoid coming to the Lord in the rawness of my vulnerability, but when I do this, I have removed the significance of Christ’s death and resurrection. I have fallen prey to the lie of perfection. Christ knew the future, He saw the anguish in the garden, the betrayal of Judas, the torture of crucifixion, the rejection of a people group He loved, and yet he said, “Not what I will, but what You will” (Mark 14:36). He accepted the cup of suffering,...

Sometimes, you do not know how much your soul needs something until the ache you have carried for so long is suddenly no longer with you. Sometimes, the Lord refreshes you in ways unimaginable and leads you into a Promised Land of fulfillment for moments that leave you breathless. These moments defined my Easter weekend. I know words will not truly do justice to the beauty of the time my friends and I shared, but I wanted to try to capture at least a fraction of it. Two things stand out. First, the simple moments of God-sent perfection and second, the depth of love felt within my heart. Perfection came in belly laughter, in carrot soufflé, in grey clouded skies that drooped so low it felt as though you could touch a cloud if you reached high enough. Perfection arrived in a playful, clumsy-pawed puppy, in Gigi’s strawberry cake, in trees and tulips that announced springtime’s arrival in East Tennessee. I use the word perfect because I know that these things came from the ultima...

I recently watched one of those trending Facebook sermon videos about marriage. I was skeptical upon clicking the video and so I half listened. Then I tuned in when the speaker said, "Love comes after marriage... love is solidified in marriage as spouses relentlessly pursue one another." Love develops after marriage. I have heard this before. In fact, I have heard this for a long time. As a young woman who grew up in the church, I have listened to the messages on marriage, the preaching on patience, and the sermons on sacrifice. Growing up, I was excited about these things. I was thrilled at the opportunity to pursue one man, continually learning more about him and learning to love him more. To dive deeper into his world and, therefore, to love him more deeply. I was even excited about undoubtedly failing in marriage. Failing again and again because I knew it would bring me to the foot of the cross and deeper into understanding God's unconditional and relent...

I love Psalms 119. The power of its simple truth continues to draw me in. This chapter is the longest in the book of Psalms. It assumes an acrostic pattern, divided into 22 parts according to the 22 letters of the Hebrew alphabet. It is a "Hallel" or prayer of praise psalm setting forth the excellency of God's word, which is the theme of the chapter. Recently, while reading through it, verse 75 stood out to me, "I know, O Lord, that your laws are righteous, and in faithfulness, you have afflicted me." What? I stopped, Did I read that correctly? "In faithfulness, you have afflicted me." Affliction, faithful? Affliction, as in pain, suffering, grief, and sorrow? These are faithful things from God? I dug deeper. I began by going back to verse 73, which begins a new section of the alphabet. This verse forms a foundation for verse 75 as it emphasizes God's sovereignty. It describes Him as a supreme Father who created us. Stating God as ...

Today is National Winnie the Pooh Day, observed on the birthday of the English author A. A. Milne. Milne created the character of Winnie the Pooh and penned the magical world of the 100 Acre Woods over 65 years ago. His characters brought truthful lessons and a simple sweetness to the everydayness of life. Several years later, Milne's work is still appreciated and cherished in many hearts and homes. The Christmas of 2016, I found myself reading Pooh's chapter book through adult eyes. I was deeply moved by the innocence captured in the purity of each page. It is so much more than a story of a teddy bear and beyond the wonder of imagination. It is genuinely a tale of true friendship, of acceptance, of resilience, and of love. If you have not had the pleasure of reading Milne's work, you can find his stories online here . Until then, here are a few of my favorite quotes, which I hold very near and dear to my heart, "I knew when I met you an adventure was goin...

Ephesians is chock-full of good stuff. I mean, this is Paul, in his prime, while also under imprisonment-a rich soil for the seeds of encouraging letters-but that is another post, I'm getting distracted. Paul writes to the believers in Ephesus about the body of Christ as the church and the love which pours from that. He includes several encouraging prayers of peace and hope, each time praying for a deeper, richer knowledge of Christ for His brothers and sisters. Throughout his text, Paul provides statements of truth and he furthers this truth by emphasizing all things are from God. For example, "For He chose us in Him before the creation of the world to be holy and blameless in His sight. In love, He predestined us to be adopted as His sons through Jesus Christ , in accordance with His pleasure and will-to the praise of His glorious grace, which He has freely given us in the One He loves. In Him we have redemptions through His blood , the forgiveness of sins, in acc...

This morning I read Proverbs 30, and I found myself in agreement with the sayings of Agur in verses 18 and 19, which read: There are three things that are too amazing for me, four that I do not understand: the way of an eagle in the sky, the way of a snake on a rock, the way of a ship on the high seas, and the way of a man with a maiden. These four things possess distinct aspects which make them remarkable. Each of them is mysterious in their own way, inexplicable, unsearchable, "too wonderful to be fully known" (Henry). They form glimpses of extraordinary marvels, which leaves one in a place of humility because of their wonder. Humility is the only possible response. Job describes this wonder when he says, "Surely I spoke of things I did not understand, things too wonderful for me to know" (42:3) Similarly, the Psalmist says, "Such knowledge is too wonderful for me, too lofty for me to attain" (139:6). Often, I feel this way. ...

This week, I found myself in an eclectic coffee shop in Amarillo, TX. I chose the shop because of an image of a comfy looking couch on Yelp. I neglected to read any reviews or further my research, and I was startled by what I found. First off, the shop was located on a shady street of buildings with broken windows and homes with chain-link fences. I approached the door and hesitantly entered a dimly lit shop with darkly painted walls. Green ivy plants sprawled out in the corners of the room and awkwardly draped to the floor. Hard rock blared on the speakers and nude sketches lined the walls. As I took a few more steps, the smell of urine and smoke invaded my nostrils, and I regretted my decision, but it was too late because the barista had noticed my arrival. I inched toward the counter, stepping up the two stairs to order. Around the corner, I was met with a giant penis painting. "Good God, help me!" I mumbled under my breath. The barista took my order with a st...

I serve a mighty God. A God who created the glory of the mountains. A God who displays countless colors across a sun setting sky. A God who formed mankind in His image. A God who delivered His people from bondage and divided the seas. A God who loves so deeply He sacrificed His son for my sin. These things leave me in awe, and yet I am most impacted by the small things the Lord does in my life. The little acts of God remind me of how He truly knows the depths of my heart. These acts speak to my spirit, often revealing to me the fragile pieces of my dreams I did not know existed. Little things like watching a storm on a front porch swing, passing by a creek which matched a photo I dreamed of visiting, two-stepping in the middle of the leaf piled woods, hearing a favorite song in a perfect moment, or finding a slice of carrot cake hidden in the fridge. On the surface, these little things hold no significance to others, but these little things bring comfort to my heart and joy...

I did not consider myself heartbroken. In fact, far from it. I felt grateful, free, and excited for the next steps ahead in my journey, but I am heartbroken. Brene Brown, Ph.D. defines heartbreak as, Any struggle that takes away our capacity to practice love and to receive it. Not until I allowed myself to sit with my heart and feel what was missing did I realize the truth of my heart's state, broken. In the next step of my journey, I entered a new community, a wonderful community with nature screaming God's glory, adventure calling every minute, and a staff who seeks the Lord first. This step also removed my ability to extend and receive love from those who sweat, studied, sacrificed, and served beside me. I am heartbroken for those I left behind in Texas. I failed to recognize I was heartbroken because heartbreak is associated with grief. I live in a constant state of denial when it comes to grief. I did not want to feel the emptiness in my heart for those I left or...

The previous camp I worked for had a cultural slogan which said in an obnoxiously ridiculous squeal, "I love my job!" Whether it was said in true appreciation for the workplace or as a band-aid to make you feel better when you're scrubbing a dirty toilet or cleaning vomit from a cabin floor, the phrase reminded us of the true gift to serve in the ministry of a camp setting. Presently, I find myself genuinely saying, "I love my job." The reasons which inspire this thought are wide and diverse. I find it a thrilling practice to remember the Lord's faithfulness in an expression of thankful praise. It is more than a counting of blessings. It is a reminder of God's character and the power of His sovereignty, especially in answered prayers. It reminds me of Hebrews 11, often called the "Hall of Faith" chapter because it outlines individuals who trusted God and experienced His faithfulness. So, this post is an outpouring of a grateful heart f...

The mountains have a way of dwarfing me, making me aware of the limits of my person compared to the vastness of the mountains. Their majesty takes my breath away and brings me to a deeper recognition of God's hand in creation. I moved from the fields of East Texas to the Mountains of New Mexico this week, and I am humbled by the gift the Lord gave to me. I spent the summer applying, interviewing, and praying for the Lord to open a door for employment. I asked, "Lord, open a door, and I will walk through it." With each closed door, I easily forgot His faithfulness. I quickly doubted His provision, and my fears masked the truth of God's plan for my life. The second to last week of summer, God opened a door, and I was offered a position to serve an Organization called Glorieta Camps. On the return trip from my interview, I was filled with an unexplainable giddiness as I laughed at how the Lord granted me a job opportunity when I least expected. I confessed the d...

Last night a huge storm hit our piney wooded corner of Texas. Dark purple-black clouds rolled in and thunder warned us of an impending downpour. The lightning began flashing and beckoned us outside onto the porch to watch its wonder. We ventured outside with three squealing kiddos on our laps. After a deafeningly loud clap of thunder, the dogs jumped on the swing with us and we all huddled, some scared, some shaking, and some giggling as our eyes were wide and our feet sprinkled with the patter of rain. True women sitting with three babies, two dogs, and one swing. Watching the display of God's glory in a storm always leaves me frozen in awe or dancing in the rain, but more wonderful than the storm itself is experiencing it through the eyes of a child. Their simple minds of amazement remind me of what Jesus taught us, to become like a child to inherit the Kingdom of Heaven (Matthew 18:1-4). May we be just like a child, humbled by the beauty of our King.

I am convinced some of the most beautiful things in life are the unexpected things. The things which we do not plan or foresee, but the things God brings to life which give smiles or demand trust. This Saturday, two friends and I decided to do some homework by the pool. We were craving some sunshine soaked into our skin and water to wash away our homework worries. We loaded up our towels and textbooks with excitement for this wonderful plan. On our way to the pool, we passed a man selling watermelon on the side of the road. We pulled beside a man in overalls sitting in a lawn chair and asked how much he was selling for. "Eight dollars," he said, but he had no teeth so I heard, "eff horors." What? I asked again, "Sir how much for your watermelons?" He gave the same response and I heard nothing more clearly. Finally, after the third time asking, we deduced the eight dollar price. Unfortunately, I only had five dollars cash with me. I explaine...

One month ago, we celebrated Kelsey's birthday. Weeks in advance, I schemed with two friends a plan to surprise her. We decided to have a picnic under her favorite tree. Before I continue about this birthday, let me give you some context to this tree. Two years ago, I and four other girls from across the US came to live, study and work in 75790, East Texas. As new Texans, our first outing into town brought us many memories and introduced us to the tree when we passed it on the road. From that day forward, each time we passed the tree (which was often because it was on the main country road to drive to town) Kelsey commented on how much she loved it. The tree stands in a vast field off of a county road. It is an old Red Oak which reaches tall and whose branches extend for ages. While we all recognized how majestic the tree looked, Kelsey was the one who truly admired it. She joked about meeting the owners of the property and asking to take a picture. A...