Feeling stuck...

It's an odd place to be. The place where I feel stuck. Not discontent, but stuck. They are not always the same thing.

I am grateful. Oh, my...my cup runneth over. Each day is so full.

Full of God's grace. His goodness. His blessing and provision.

Eucharisteo...gratitude. Continuing my list of gratitude.

Husband playing xylophone with Superman. Oh, how I love this man.

• Husband. For everything he is and does for me. For the gift of his friendship and his love.
• Wonder Woman. For her precious, tender heart.
• Super-Spider-Iron-Man. For his genuine love that simply pours out of him. 
• Homerun Kid who is now renamed as Bugatti. Because he likes Bugattis. For his creativity, his smile, his heart.
• Mom. For her friendship, her wisdom, her example, her perseverance and utter determination.
• Dad. For the way he loves Mom and takes care of her.
• Odilia. For everything she does to help our family...for coffee on special mornings, for sparkly kitchens, for homemade tortillas. 
• Friends.
• Homeschool. Oh the best way to spend a day...with my three littles, who aren't so little anymore.

Oh my. That smile.

And there it is...just a number of items to be grateful for. The list helps me recognize that the more time I spend saying thank you, the less time I have to feel stuck.

And yet, I don't think this stuck feeling comes from nowhere. Sometimes it is that stuck feeling that propels me to something else, something greater, something different, and perhaps...the next step in God's plan for my life. 

I asked husband this weekend if perhaps I was more in love with the idea of loving God and teaching my kids to love God...than I really was in love with God.

It was quite a revelation to realize that maybe I don't actively love and pursue God the way I feel like I should or wish that I did...

That maybe I love the idea of loving God...more than I love Him.

Superman got two hits at his very first game.

And that has me stuck just a bit. Because I know that I love Him, and I know that I want to live my life to honor and please Him. But do I actually, actively do those things? Or do I just talk about it? In other words, if I take a look at all that God has done for me...and we could seriously just stop at the cross where He sent His only Son to die for me...if I look at all the blessings He alone has provided, why am I not running, pursuing, resolvedly worshipping Him with my entire life, being, existence?

Nephew, sister and my precious mom.

And what does that look like anyway? Why do I feel like my passion for God is not exactly passion? But more along the lines of, "eh, yeah...that's nice." Where did my passion go? For once, it was there pouring out of my heart...spilling out of my heart...

My dad and my sister.

Why don't I look at the faces in these photos and stand in awe of the goodness of God? Why don't I remember the meaning of resurrection day and rejoice without hesitation at His awesome power? Why don't I look at the restoration and healing and redemption and think, "only my awesome God!"?

Superman proud of his artwork at our Easter party.

Why don't I look at the face of this girl, knowing what God did for her, in her body, in such a real and tangible way and not overflow with joy, thanksgiving and passion for my God? The God who healed. The God who answered my midnight plea. The God who rescued her, and me, that night two years ago when she couldn't breathe. And the only thing I could do...the only thing I knew to do...was ask my Savior to save her too. Instantly. Immediately.

Wonder Woman. Her life really is a miracle.

Why am I stuck in this place of wilderness? I'm really not sure. But the more I remind myself of the miracles I've witnessed personally, in real life, on this earth, in this century, I find myself wanting to not just love the idea of loving Him, but I want to love Him...serve Him...honor Him...worship Him...without reservation or hesitation. And certainly without shame or excuse.