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Katie Westenberg

I Choose Brave

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Dirty Floors and the Daily Faithful

by Katie

The mud was caked thick.  This was no light dusting, no fine layer.  This was chunks and lumps of my children’s delight piled in drying glops.  On my floor.  And some days, some moments, it threatens to be my undoing.

Who in the world lives here? I wonder.

What if our daily faithful, our dedication and perseverance in small and mundane tasks, speaks louder than our words ever will?

It doesn’t stop at mud clumps.  Sometimes it’s dirty light switches that set me off; remnants of dinner or a sticky snack left behind in places I barely remember to clean.  When the sun peaks in through my finger-printed windows at just the right angle (or just the wrong one, maybe?) the walls in my house tell stories I’m trying to cover up with cute throw pillows, disguising with my favorite Wallflowers.  There is dirt in so many places.  Who in the world lives here?

We built our home 4 years ago now.  It was new, for 5 minutes, new.  It’s possible I’m exaggerating there; it may have been 3 minutes.  But that leads to the sobering fact that all of this dirt, all of this un-newing, is mine.  Dents in walls, knicks in paint, dirty light switches, mine.  Wonderful.  I’m still wondering, who lives here?

Some days it grabs my focus more than others, it strangles a bit, all of the un-newing.  All of the dirt, constant crumbs, my barely keeping up with it, stirs a bit of desperation.  It wants to swallow me whole.  It wants to weigh me down, and turn me into a girl who throws hard stares, sharp words, at the simply living and being children who really do live here.  Like a cancer it eats away at my gratitude, my appreciation for any and all of it.  Because, dirt.

I could wax long about kids over dirt, but we all know that, in the purest sense, in our slow and remorseful moments.  Of course, kids over dirt.  Relationship over dirt.  Husbands and friendship, life-giving and living, over dirt.

But we also know the real weight of dirt, the weight of mess when you turn around and entire rooms have been destroyed in a moment.  In a breath, a small helper was getting a snack and dumped most of the contents of the pantry on the floor.  That exasperation, that tired, is every bit as real as my desire for gratitude, my fight to see the blessing.

And so Paul’s words in Philippians 3:13-14 hit me something different.

“…I do not count myself to have apprehended: but one thing I do…”

This is his heads up right here, friends.  For you and me both.  Look, see, here.  There’s this one thing.  I don’t get it all, I haven’t figured it all out or accomplished it all, but there is this one thing that I get.

Me either, Paul.  Me either.  I’m listening.

“…forgetting those things which are behind and reaching forward to those things which are ahead…”

Oh, that.

Forgetting the past, the yesterday.  Forgetting my successes and failures.  That day I was a champ and the house was a showroom or the 23 days in a row I have had dirty light switches.  Forgetting how many times I’ve cleaned that stinking mudroom only to find, oh yes, more mud. We’ll just lay that all down right here.

“…I press toward the goal for the prize of the upward call of God in Christ Jesus.”

He’s calling us out, bidding us, stretch farther.  It’s uncomfortable to keep going some days, because I’m tired.  Sometimes the journey feels long and hard.  Paul knows.  He lived it; he knows it.  That’s why he said reach, it’s going to take action.

My daily faithful is preaching louder than my words ever will.

Is it possible that this is about more than me cleaning the mudroom again?  Is it possible than it’s more than another round of carpool, another nightly dinner, cleaning light switches yet again?  Another mundane task at your job, menial service.  Surrender.

What if this is the very gospel with shoes on?  What if these, the smallest acts of faithfulness, the daily faithful, preach louder than any words we ever speak?

Is it possible that my attitude, my heart, speaks the gospel more clearly, more succinctly, than any words I could ever write?

Cleaning toilets once again, I serve, I stretch, reaching upward.  Disciplining, teaching, correcting with patience and grace, yet again, stretching, reaching upward.  Another round of dinners, dump the trash, pay the bills, continually tired, humbled.  We have it in us, because we have Him in us, hemming us in, bidding us step, stretch, because right there, even amidst the clumps of dirt in my mudroom, His power is being made perfect.  

In us.  Through us.  If only we are brave enough to see it.

Keep reaching, friend; keep stretching.  He sees.  He knows.  There is a prize.  We have been called.

I’m stretching right along with you.

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Comments

  1. Tracey says

    March 6, 2017 at 4:39 pm

    Such a lovely reminder to do the “little” things well, to focus on how I can serve in this moment, whatever my situation in life may be.

    Had this thought while packing lunches for the family this morning, with a bit of a sour attitude – “Would I be grumpy if I was packing this for Jesus Himself?” Helped give me a better perspective!!

    • Katie says

      March 7, 2017 at 7:31 am

      What a beautiful question to be asking, Tracey!

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Hey, friend, I’m glad you’re here! I’m Katie. One girl determined to do life bravely. One girl determined to Fear God and Live Brave, to parent well, live authentically and work hard for all the things that matter. I Choose Brave and I hope you will too!

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I scanned a post shared by a friend awhile back an I scanned a post shared by a friend awhile back and the words quickly wooed me. I’ve long been a sucker for words.
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The writer spun them expertly, thoughtfully, vividly, and I was glad to drink of her craft, greedy for story drawn artfully, delivered thoughtfully, from a deep well.

Until I realized, the words weren’t true. The author was believing a well woven lie and carefully threading mistruth into her own kind of gospel. Her mastery, a thin veil for mistruth.
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I was reminded, friend, perhaps the apple looks a bit different today. The shape and size, delivery method, have gone modern but the Truth is still the same - sin is crouching, desiring us and we are commanded to rule over it. Still, today.
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We must know Truth to spot lies. We must remember it, to recognize the difference. We must be aware of our weaknesses and the sticky compulsion of temptation. It’s our responsibility to rule here. May we do so, bravely..
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{Genesis 4:7 
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This morning, remember. This morning, remember.
Just a little PSA to remind you - it’s possible. Just a little PSA to remind you - it’s possible. 

It’s possible to be aware of the news and the world, of foreign relations and politics, and not be obsessed about it.

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It’s possible to be in the world and not of it. To remember who God was, and is, and always will be, above it.

It’s possible to remember Him here.

May we learn to do so, bravely.
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{Beautifully modeled in Psalm 77. See for yourself, friend.❤️}
Slow processor over here. But this little book lau Slow processor over here. But this little book launched into the world on Tuesday and I’m still reeling from the beauty of celebrating side by side with so many sisters, the grace of what it looks like when so many women offer their gifts for His glory (fishes and loaves never looked so good!), and the incredible support of my local community. I’ll never forget it.
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The humanity of Jesus Christ is an indispensable g The humanity of Jesus Christ is an indispensable gift to us as believers. Every challenge we face He met and mastered. The Bible doesn’t speak of endless notifications and group texts, but it does speak of people with real needs showing up in Christ’s path constantly. 
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Wherever He went crowds followed with needs and questions and frustrations and problems. He got in a boat to cross to the other side of the sea, and people would race to meet Him there. 

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Over and over again, He stopped what He was doing, paused from the task at hand, and tended to the needy hearts - the bleeding woman, the woman at the well - right in front of Him.
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Far too often I find I’m happy to entertain distractions - anything that prevents me from giving my full attention to something else - and yet annoyed by interruptions. Perhaps it is because one I choose, while the other I do not?
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{excerpt from But Then She Remembered: How to Give God Your Full Attention in a Distracted World.}
UPDATE: You all scooped up dozens of copies in min UPDATE: You all scooped up dozens of copies in minutes! 🎉 Well done! You know how to love your leaders well. I wish we had another case of books to give away! We are closing this giveaway for now. If you sent us a message watch for a reply soon!
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Crash my inbox. We’ll send ‘em out while supplies last!

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