Lighting up the Room

Imagine a dark and abandoned room. A room that was once so cherished and special that then went dim as the electric bill was left paid and the heating bill unnoticed so the space became still and cold.

I admit it; I neglected you. But I have reasons, honestly. And I know it's okay that I let this place be still and dark because I had a lot of living to do, a lot of maturing, a lot of understanding. I do not have "it" all together now; no, on the contrary - life is at its messiest. But I feel a calling to return to this place and light a candle or two for those of you still with me and to welcome anyone who might wander in.

Welcome. I'll light the fire for you so this place warms up. And it will warm up, that I'm sure of. Because this place is all about God. And while we sometimes think God leaves the bills unpaid or lets the food go bad in the fridge; while we may blame Him for our difficult circumstances, when it's all said and done -

God is good.

I've been through the diagnosis of several chronic illnesses, several mental health emergencies within my family, marriage strife, children crises, spiritual challenges, you name it, all since I last wrote here. I always wrote about how interested I was in the nature of suffering as a Christian...well, I'm getting to find out firsthand now. Ha - careful what you ponder!

What do I do with all this pain? Do I let it rule my body, my emotions, and thus let my flesh rule my life?

Or do I surrender to God on a daily basis, knowing His hands are holding me with love and careful precision, molding me with every experience that comes my way? Do I believe He wants the best for me?

Well, yes and no. He wants the best for Him. I will go into that in a different blog entry. Good stuff there.

But suffice it to say, suffering has been the meat and potatoes on my plate for the past year and I live in daily physical pain that sometimes truly  makes me question God's goodness.

But when I quiet the racket going on in my brain (as a baby cries hysterically in the library where I am typing this), I know on a deep, gut level that God has me. He's got this. All of it. And only He can handle it. And aren't I lucky to have Him in my life, to know Him, to serve Him all of my days!

Yes, I struggle with anger and bitterness, plain old morning grouchiness and irrational yelling at the kids...biting off Husband's poor head at times...hiding in my bed under my pillows and just sobbing sometimes... yes, I still struggle...

but I keep looking at the Light - God's Light that He provides. In the song, "Wasteland," by NeedtoBreathe, there is this fantastic line:

"In this wasteland
where I'm living
there is a crack in the door filled with light
and it's all that I need to get by"

Sometimes all you really need is a crack of light. You're looking and looking for your daily bread and there's the light. And you hold onto it for all it's worth.

And Jesus is sure worth it all!

p.s. for those of you who followed me over to my other blog I had mentioned in the last post many moons ago...well that blog, too, had to darken for me to live life for a while and little gremlins took over and I can't even access it any longer so it's up for grabs, sadly, to any spammer who wants it. Very sad about that, but not much I can do. So here I stay! I might create a new blog depending on the direction I'd like to go, but no worries about packing up yet. Peace, be still.

The Paradox of the Season

Husband's birthday is today - on Good Friday.

It's been interesting, this paradox. Celebrating the man I love's birthday on the day I remember Christ dying.

Last night, at the end of the Maundy Thursday service, they ceremoniously stripped the altar as Pastor sang, in the same haunting melody as Ash Wednesday's Psalm 51, Psalm 22. And the ladies in prim and beautiful dresses, white gloves on their hands especially for this, took the candles, the cup and plate we had just used for the Lord's Supper, the altar cloths - they took everything off as the sanctuary lights turned off.  A firm lump rose in my throat and tears rolled down.

It has now begun, I felt deep in my bones. We enter the space of suffering and sadness and the why's and how-did-this-happen's. We hear Jesus' words, "Remember me" and as Good Friday fades to evening we think about him beseeching his Father, "My God, why have You forsaken me?"

Yesterday as I stood around the enormous cross which stands on a neighbor's land here in town, hand-in-hand with other believers wanting to usher God into the moment, wanting to thank God for the gift of His Son, wanting to pray for the church and everyone on this earth, I looked up as the sun shone on the stained wood, the two nails holding the pieces together - large nails - and I realized I had never been this close to such a cross. I could feel its pulse. I could feel its story of the Cross long ago.

The Pastor who led the prayer mentioned something that threw me for a headspin. He said that no one has ever or will ever suffer as much as Jesus did on that cross. Things certainly fell into perspective.

I love Good Friday because it gives me time to truly reflect on all Christ has done for me.

If I had it my way I'd have the entire day to just sit in the sun and read God's Word and journal and sing.

As it turns out, God had different plans for me this Good Friday.

I tried to make Husband's Good Friday Birthday an enjoyable one. I managed to handle the squabbles between 9 yr old Miss G and 6 yr old Mr. A. - they are getting at each other's throats more and more. I did not yell at all; I chose grace over anger.

Husband came home to presents and streamers. We had a good time.

Then the kids went off in different directions and I sat down to blog.

And in that time, while Husband takes a much-deserved nap, Miss G and Mr. A have come in three times declaring war and tattling on each other.

I have handled it all, so far, without yelling.

Then Miss G, who is ripening in opinions and attitude, announces that she can't help but hit her brother; she just gets so mad that she can't control it.

Oh, we've been through this before, child. I've been teaching you an emotional vocabulary since I met you at age four and a half. I gave you that Dora squeezie ball back then to hold when anger filled you to the brim and then we transitioned to a feelings poster and now, here we are in present day, with me asking you about your day and you releasing emotion after emotion.

So how did we get to today - how, apparently, it is okay for you to wallop your brother because you can't control it and oh, I just don't understand it and you just can't explain it, and you spin around in a huff and scream at me.

My heart pierces and I feel a sharp ache. I'm losing my little girl.

I calmly tell her that she has every ability to control her anger. She knows this. But she will not believe it. She sees her sister making excuses and falling into the victim time and time again and I worry for all of them, all of these kids who have seen such trauma and such suffering and I wonder if I can ever lead them to Jesus which makes me think

maybe Jesus needs to lead them to Jesus. 

I tell Miss G that I love her and I know she knows, though it's hard, she can choose not to hit or fight.

And I leave her room because I can see it is getting to be information-overload and I close the door behind her, feeling her seething anger, hearing the bursts of tears beginning.

And I can't do much but pray.

I want this Good Friday to be good.

I want our family to love each other and for us to get along.

Can't they see that?

Don't they know what this day means? What Christ did for them?

There is grace for them, I hear in my head. And I call you to show them such grace.

Oh God, it is so hard. I want to yell instead of love. I want to cry instead of pray.

But it is in my control, isn't it. Praying instead of crying. Loving instead of yelling. Just like she can choose not to hit I can choose not to sink into despair.

Hold me up, Lord. I've been pondering how we can hold you up on the cross; I think, secretly, I've been wondering if there could have been anything we could have done to save you from such suffering.

But I remember you are God-Man and you chose this, you knew this would happen. It is written...

You have not asked me to save you, Lord. Do I really think that? Is that why Good Friday pierces me so much this year? How mistaken I am.

You have called me to serve others. You've called me to serve these children. And I try, Lord, I try.

So what if it is about the paradox? A birthday on Christ's death day. Teaching her not to yell when I want to scream in despair. Running to you and proclaiming my need of you the day when you were nailed to the worst death imaginable.

This season is all paradox, upside-down. Then again, so is the Kingdom of God.

We are called to love the least of us; taught that you loved us when we were yet sinners; picked up time and time again if we just call out to you.

The paradox of this season is not lost on me.

The hard which can hurt can be the biggest blessing.

But the blessing might not come right away.

Miss G won't walk out of her room and tell me, "I get it now. Thank you so much for explaining it. I understand and I love you so much for leading me to the Lord."

Mr. A won't open his door with a big smile and say, "whining and tattling is so beyond me."

Miss A, the eldest, won't walk upstairs and hug me with tears, thanking me for loving her despite her hating me.

The hard which can hurt and then turn blessing-like might come years later - or even wait until eternity in Heaven.

What I know, Lord, is that you watch us all. You promise each of us eternal life in return for giving our life to you. And for all that you've done - in life and in death - how you conquered death - how you gave us hope in the darkest hours - after all that you've done, I'm going to take your paradox and hold it in my hand, drink from it like a pool of living water, and keep on moving through this life.

Once again, I seem to be living this stuff out so much more than in years past. It gets harder, but I know, because of you, Lord, I grow stronger.

To Live a Thank You: Five Minute Fridays

It's Friday!
That means I've listened for the word that Lisa-Jo calls out and I'm writing, unedited and unbridled, for five minutes straight about that word.

Today's word is

THANK YOU.

GO....
****************************

I never had problems saying "thank you" as a child. My father and stepmother tell me now, as I call them and groan about the sense of entitlement and ingratitude in today's generation (particularly under my roof), that I probably said "thank you" a little too much. Can one do that?

I guess if it is born out of guilt. And I guess I felt guilty for getting things. Why? Did I not think I deserved them?

Was it about wanting approval and saying the "right thing?"

"Thank you" makes adults happy. It makes parents beam and say to themselves, "how nice my children look to others."

And when they don't say "thank you," parents might think, "how awful; I'm so embarrassed."

Has "thank you" become a measurement of how good we are as parents?

What if "thank you" became, to our kids, a measurement of how good we were doing as role models?

Ouch.

Husband and I are on the kids a lot about saying their "please" and "thank you"s.

And we try to say our "thank you"s as well. But how do we live the "thank you?"

Wouldn't that be...gratitude?

Oh, how circular it is. "You're welcome" is gratitude modeled to those who need to know what "thank you" looks like.

And my sometimes-ungrateful, entitled kids? If I model grace instead of react with sighed anger when they don't say "thank you," wouldn't grace feel better...and teach better? Wouldn't my consistent modeling of gratitude, even in the midst of ingratitude be the way to go?

I know I get so angry at the kids for being ungrateful because I am ashamed of my own ingratitude.

And so it is a circle.


STOP.
***************************

Smiling as this Friday's word is so fitting both because of Thanksgiving, but also because of what I received in the mail today:

One Thousand Gifts Devotional by Ann Voskamp

If Thanksgivings Seem Fragmented

peeling apples, Thanksgiving 2011

My Thanksgiving this year feels very fragmented.

I want to be focusing more on gratitude when things are hard rather than when things are easy.

I hear of other hard thanksgivings and broken people giving praises from broken places and I wonder:

Is it supposed to be hard?

Why is it hard in the first place?

Does God treasure our hard-praises more than our easy-praises?

I find my head is spinning. This year has been such a roller coaster of health problems and emotional problems and an emotional teenager and a growing tween girl and changing toddler-to-schoolchild boy. This year has been a yearning-for-Mom year, more than any other year. This year has been one of great growth in faith and giant steps back in faith.

I feel dizzy.

Simulating the back-and-forth way I've been feeling, the kids' mom kept changing visitation times and so we didn't know whether we'd have the kids for the holiday or not until the literal last minute.

14 yr old Miss A and Husband and I will be going to my father and stepmother's house for Thanksgiving. That is fine, but it does feel strange to have half our family but not the whole.

To be honest, I've not felt part of a whole family in a while. Things have been so stressful. Things have been so fragmented.

Days are chaotic and days are traumatic. Days are hysterically funny and days are tearfully upsetting. Often we have all four things in the same day.

Do you have that, too?

Do you know which way you are going? Do you feel like your head is about to fall off from the back-and-forthing you've been doing, trying to keep up with the pace of your crazy life?

Sometimes I think God does treasure our hard-praises a little more than our easy-praises because it's in the hard times, when our faces are forced to look heavenward and our legs, forced by circumstance, end up kneeling at last. 

I don't think God wants us to suffer, but we humans are a stubborn lot. Well, I know I am. I also know that, as a parent, myself, children often need to be taught a lesson the hard way. It's the only way we seem to listen.

Trust me, God told the Israelietes. Trust me, He told them again. And again. And again. Then 40 years in the wilderness with nothing but what-is-it-manna and Trust me, God told them. And then men were made kings and statues were made into gods and idols and the Trust me became harder and harder for them to hear. As a parent who gets shamefully upset when my child continuously ignores me, I can only imagine how God felt when His children not only ignored him, but openly disrespected Him.

So I think God loves when we trust Him when it is hard for us to do so. He takes great pride in us when we do. God does not like that it's taken us to this level of bottoming out to finally realize what we have...but He is always waiting for us. Waiting for our realization of our need for Him.

I normally do something Thanksgiving-ish during this time, whether it is decorating the house or helping cook something (with my limited skill). So far I've done nothing.

I feel ashamed.

I am merely going to my father's house to partake in food with half of my immediate family coming with me and before I've filled my belly with food, I already feel full of leftover resentment, bitterness, and anger this year has doled out.

I feel full of ick. I have trouble remembering the good times of this year. I have trouble feeling grateful.

I sat in the parking lot of the grocery store while Husband went in to get one last ingredient for the stuffing we will bring with us. I sat in silence and prayed to God and thanked Him for so much of what I take for granted. I felt I needed to seek forgiveness for something, yet I wasn't sure what it was.

Writing this eve-before-Thanksgiving blog, I recognize it now:

Lord, I confess my sin of indifference.

I'm tired of the chaos and the crumbling. I'm tired of the uncertainty of what crisis will happen each day and, moreso, I'm tired of the certainty that some crisis will happen each day. At this point, I'm actually expecting it.

Lord, I confess my sin of complaining. 

Because that is what I am doing: complaining like the Israelites did as they were being perfectly provided for by their Lord. I'm complaining about the chaos of my family yet everyone is healthy and we live in safety and we have so much others do not and I have to be knocked on my face to see it.

So. Enough of the fragmented praise.

Yes, God is used to it - we all do it: praying when it is hard and praising when we are saved from the hard and land on soft ground.

I give my all-in praise: praise when things are chaotic and crumbling, tough and trying. Uncertain and scary.

Because God is everything those things aren't.

God is not chaotic and crumbling.
"The Lord is my rock, my fortress and my deliverer, my God is my rock, in whom I take refuge. He is my shield and the horn of my salvation, my stronghold." ~ Psalm 18:2

God is not tough or trying.

"Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened and I will give you rest." ~ Matthew 11:28

This year's Thanksgiving is not going to be fragmented, but rather intentional. 

I am going to intentionally pray. I am going to intentionally praise. 

I am going to intentionally look around me. I am going to intentionally rejoice, ignore any lies that haunt my mind, and I am intentionally placing  my focus on God. 

"The desert and the parched land will be glad; the wilderness will rejoice and blossom. Like the crocus, it will burst into bloom; it will rejoice greatly and shout for joy." ~ Isaiah 35:1-2a

2008 Thanksgiving table

Read that verse again. The wildnerness will rejoice and blossom. In the Bible, the wilderness was a place and it also represented everything we humans find scary and uncertain. It is in the wilderness that we feel the most lost and disconnected. It is in this wilderness that we give the power over to the enemy and believe the lies. It is in the wilderness when we can barely breathe the air is so stale from dust. And here...

the wilderness is rejoicing. 

The wilderness is blossoming. 

Flowers in the desert? Really?

I sound like a child who just found out she can receive that favorite toy even though she might have misbehaved last week. 

I sound like a believer in God who must remember how to believe anew each and every day.

It sounds like grace to me. 

Thank God His mercies are new each morning. 

Happy Thanksgiving, friends. 

I hope you can join me in praising when it is hard. 

And whether you are alone this holiday or surrounded by family, know that God sits at your table, unfailing in His love and faithfulness. 

"Great is his faithfulness. his mercies being afresh each morning." ~ Lamentations 3:23

"Praise the Lord. Give thanks to the Lord, for he is good; his love endures forever!" ~ Psalm 106:1

heart biscuit

And because it is What I Know Now Thursday tomorrow and I will not be home to blog, I offer today's eve-before-Thanksgiving epiphany up to God and to Sarah Mae's link-up. 

What I know now is that I have to praise when my face is low with sadness and praise when my face is high in joy. I must praise when it is stormy out as well as when the sun floods through. 

I desire to live 1 Thessalonians 5:18:

"Give thanks in all circumstances, for this is God's will for you in Christ Jesus."

Amen. 

and yet I don't seem to remember the lessons. I was reminded of this blog post from June:
http://dovechronicles.blogspot.com/2012/06/enough-is-not-enough-prayer-and-praise.html
What I know now is that God keeps saying, "Trust me" and I keep walking and listening to the world's cacophony. I will listen to You, Lord. I will listen. 

When The Odds Rise Against You

http://www.gettyimages.com/detail/photo/businessman-removing-building-block-high-res-stock-photography/103033288

Two odds have stacked up; two very big facts in my life:

1. my body
2. my 14 year old teenager stepdaughter

Both are angst-ridden and angry, both are moody and stuck in a rut. Both are victims of circumstance and  victims of themselves.

Is that vague yet poetic enough for you?

To be more specific, yet still respecting privacy, let me try to explain a bit further.

My body has been fighting me for years, but has progressively gotten worse this year. Since March, I was in the emergency room three times. Urgent Care became my middle name and I formed long-lasting friendships with every on-call 24-hour-nurse at my clinic. They'd always be there at 3 in the morning to take my calls of pain and hysteria. They'd offer advice, suggestions, and sometimes just listen to me vent about how much pain I was in and how I couldn't get sleep.

After getting a common yet important procedure scheduled for January, my body made it known that it would not wait that long. The 3rd ER visit occurred and soon we had the procedure scheduled for four days later.

That was last Friday.

The procedure painted me as a healthy fool.

The doctors were perplexed.

Maybe you're too anxious, they said.

Yes. If you were going through this much pain and agony and worrying about how you were going to function every day and take care of your kids and husband and life-duties, worry about how many sick-days you were using up at work and were you going to lose your job over this...yes, I bet you'd be pretty anxious too.

So off I went to the specialist in my area of body-problem.

She was invalidating, plain-old-mean. She told me I was too emotional about it and wasn't the least bit sympathetic.

At that point, my normally-sweet and compassionate demeanor disappeared and I unleashed some wrath I did not know I had. Poor woman.

This got me to see a nationally-recognized expert in the area of my body-problem. I have to do another procedure this week and then get one x-ray next week and one on December 3rd. I'm told he will be able to tell me what is going on.

In the mean time, every day gives me pain, pain, more pain. I can't describe it without going into too much detail so you will just have to trust me.

Then there is my number two odd stacked against me: the 14 year old.

As with me and my health problem, she is full of pain and wrath. And lucky me, I am her target practice.

Actually, I don't think I'm "practice" for anything; I know she is very angry with me.

Yet I understand this. I'm not her biological mother; I'm the woman she lives with who is being the second parent in the house; I'm the woman who makes sure she does x, y, and z and gets on her case if she doesn't. I'm the parent who helps make sure her room is clean and that she gets picked up from confirmation and poms weekly.

But I'm also the parent who gets the "you're not my mom; stop trying so hard to be my mom."

I'm also the parent who gets to fight with her almost every morning about being upstairs on-time. About basic manners. About this or that. Name anything. We've covered it.

This girl adored me once upon a time. I have up on my wall a framed drawing that reads, "Stepmom is my favorite word. When you came into my life I felt hope in my family being broke up. I love you."

Was that only two years ago? How can a child morph into someone so different in two years?

And yet I love her. I am called to love her. God wants me to love her. And I do. I love her when I am angry at her, I love her when I act irrationally at her and when I act rationally (however irrational to her teenage mind). I love her when we bond over something and I love her when we fight (though, I admit, it's mighty hard to remember that).

So these two things: my 14 year old and my body...

they are both railing against me right now. They are wild animals howling in the night and they are in agony. They both want help but reject it. Granted, the 14 year old has more control about accepting or rejecting the help than my body does, but there are similarities none-the-less.

I feel like I'm being hated on...a lot.

This morning, after another tearful drive to work after dropping the kids to school (tears due to the tiredness of fighting with 14 year old every morning over something), I read through my index cards of Bible verses.

One stuck out in particular:

"If the world hates you, remember that it hated me first." 

No, that's not the president talking nor is it my own parent. It's Jesus.

John 15:18 (NLT).

I sat in my car, transfixed by that message.

I felt God lean in close and tell me:

I love you more than she hates you. 

Wow. I haven't realized the true nature of God's love. I haven't realized that God loves me no matter what time He goes to bed or needs to be upstairs in the morning. If God sneaks someone into the house, God is still going to love me when I punish Him.

Okay, so I'm making a bit of a joke there, but I think you might know what I mean.

Feeling God say that to me made such a huge difference. So much that I do not fear anyone or anything hating me [on a good day].

God loves me more, immeasurably more.

"With your unfailing love you lead the people you have redeemed. In your might, you guide them to your sacred home." ~ Exodus 15:13 (NLT).

Unfailing love, that's what Moses wrote. Unfailing love is mentioned, in the New International Version translation, 32 times!

So...

the odds might be against me.

But God is for me.

And if God is for me, who can be against me?

I rest in God. I thank God. I sigh into God's bigger-than-huge love.

Deeeep breath.

What I Know Now Thursdays: How to Decode a Teenage Girl

What I know today is that fathers and teenage daughters have one of the hardest relationships to muster through.

I remember my own stepmother "mediating" between my father and I. I should call that "teenage interpretation" in which she decoded what I was trying to say and translated it into language my father could understand.

When I was a teen, my father didn't understand anything.

I have a 14-year-old stepdaughter and, trust me, she is very much a teenager. Add to that a history that colors her life all kinds of bleak and you get a pretty pouty and miserable girl.

How is a father supposed to understand such a creature?

How is a father supposed to allow his wife to help translate this strange teenage-speak?

And more than that, how is the stepmother...

who sees both the father's world

and the stepdaughter's world

translate to each other?

Flowers wither without water. Flowers can be surrounded by ever-encroaching ugly weeds.
We need to get the weeds out and water the poor thing.

Water it with love.

What I know now is that while it is important for parents to love their ailing teenagers

and I know it is especially important that those girls know and feel their father's love (even amidst their angsty get-away-from-me ways)

and it is important for a teenage girl who needs a mama role model to feel that kind of love

even though I know all that

what I know now is that it is, ultimately, the Father's love

Our Heavenly Father's unfailing love

that can heal a torn heart.

What I know now is that I cannot be a savior between the man and the girl I love. I cannot be the almighty translator and decoder.

We have a Savior. We have a Healer. We have a redeemer.

So who am I in this family? I'm not the savior, healer, redeemer. But I want so badly to show how I love, how I care, and how I can help. In some way.

What I don't know now is how to strike that balance.

Maybe that will be what I answer in a future "What I Know Now Thursday."

linking up with Sarah Mae  even though she is taking a month-long blogging break to focus on family which I highly applaud. In the meantime, do read her past blog entries. I enjoy her blog very much and find so much heartfelt wisdom there.

When You're in Denial about the Hard Stuff

free wallpaper from Proverbs 31 Ministries at http://www.proverbs31.org/freebies/

Oh God, I feel it. I feel the ache and the gnaw.

I have disappointed you.

You called me and I knew I was a chosen servant

Isaiah 42 (NIV)

The Servant of the Lord

“Here is my servant, whom I uphold,
    my chosen one in whom I delight;
I will put my Spirit on him,
    and he will bring justice to the nations.
He will not shout or cry out,
    or raise his voice in the streets.
A bruised reed he will not break,
    and a smoldering wick he will not snuff out.
In faithfulness he will bring forth justice;
     he will not falter or be discouraged
till he establishes justice on earth.
    In his teaching the islands will put their hope.”

This is what God the Lord says—
the Creator of the heavens, who stretches them out,
    who spreads out the earth with all that springs from it,
    who gives breath to its people,
    and life to those who walk on it:
 “I, the Lord, have called you in righteousness;
    I will take hold of your hand.
I will keep you and will make you
    to be a covenant for the people
    and a light for the Gentiles,
 to open eyes that are blind,
    to free captives from prison
    and to release from the dungeon those who sit in darkness.

 “I am the Lord; that is my name!
    I will not yield my glory to another
    or my praise to idols.
 See, the former things have taken place,
    and new things I declare;
before they spring into being
    I announce them to you.”

**********************************

So God, I say to You now...your servant has fallen. Not fallen at Your feet during the time of trail, as we are supposed to do, but my spirit has fallen. I gave up when I was not supposed to. I let the enemy win when I could have fought more. 

For that I am sorry. 

And yet I ponder Ann Voskamp's words from today's blog

"When did I start expecting successful Christian living to be smooth sailing instead of stepping out of the boat in the middle of a storm?"

Why am I continuously surprised when trials come my way? When children misbehave or, sometimes worse, make such poor decisions that you fear for them? When spouses fight and don't understand. When you yearn for the old life yet know very well that you are right where you are supposed to be, for "a time such as this" (Esther 4:14)?

Lord, I know better. I know that there will be suffering and trouble (John 16:33) and I even know what purpose that has. 

So why do I spin and spit and sob and rot? Why do I get caught up in the I-don't-want-to's and that's-not-fair's? Why do I question - no, argue - your plan for me?

Because...

it is hard.

And we humans don't like doing the hard stuff. 

And I dared to pray that dangerous prayer: Lord, bring it on. 

I knew what my call in this season of life was. It was not what I expected nor what I particularly wanted, but I said Lord, bring it on!

As though I was the karate student in my stepson's class when they get too tired and want to quit. The instructor has instructed them to yell out, "Bring it on, sir!"

And Sir, I did say to bring it on. 

And You did. 

So why am I surprised that life is a daily struggle and has been for a while?

I know you are doing a fantastic work in each of us, yet I still squirm and wiggle, moan and complain. 

I have to do this hard stuff. I can't give up nor ask my mother to sign a note to my gym teacher excusing me from doing the high-jump because I am too anxiety-plagued. 

It's time to do the hard stuff. 

So Lord, I am sorry that this heart is prone to wander, prone to leave the Father Almighty who I love so much. I am sorry I put humans' opinions above Your own. 

I am sorry for regressing. 

Head up and eyes toward Heaven, I am ready for the day which begins tomorrow. 

Nothing extraordinary planned, just another day. However, it is a day where I can start anew. 

That's the joy of You, Lord. I mess up on the hard stuff tonight, but I know you love and forgive me; I know you recognize my repentance and love for You. I mess up on the hard stuff tonight, but I know that you give me the new day tomorrow. 

Hard stuff will continue to rain down, this I know. 

Seal my heart, Lord. Seal it to Thy courts above. 

An 8-Year-Old's First Bible Study

Last night, Stepdaughter8, who I will call Miss G for storytelling's sake, asked me a whole bunch of very good and deep questions about God.

I chuckled because I did the very same thing to my mother when she would put me to bed: My questions were more psychological and worldly and not related to God (I didn't grow up knowing much about God). However, I have very fond memories of sitting on my mother's bed at bedtime and having what I called our "11:00 Psychology Talk." I did this as a preteen and teenager, not so much as an eight-year-old. At that age I was repeatedly asking Mom for a glass of water so she'd come back to my room for another kiss goodnight.

I swear Miss G has to come from my DNA, though, because the girl knows how to ask really good and deep questions. Already, we are no strangers to staying up a bit too late talking about "life stuff." To my delight, she has many questions about God that a child would have. Unfortunately, I can't spend the time I'd like to talking with her about it because it is bedtime, after all. I always promise myself to pick the conversation back up the next day...

but life usually gets in the way.

(But what life are you really living if you are too busy to talk about God?)

So back to last night: Miss G asked such good questions that I didn't want to "busy" myself out of them. I told her that we would talk about it the next day and, sure enough, right before bedtime we gathered at the kitchen table, she in her cotton, floor-length penguin nightgown, Bible in hand (the one given to her by our church) and questions ready to go.

One thing about Miss G is that she likes to talk. She is not always the best listener. And one thing about me is that when I talk I don't really know when to conclude. I usually make my point in circles.

So to focus us both, I made a list of four questions that Miss G came up with that we would try to tackle. This is what she came up with:

1. Why do they say "fear God?" Does it mean we ought to be afraid of Him?

2. Why does God have to stay up in the sky?

3. How did God never sin?

4. How was Jesus born?

Oh my goodness! Just looking at that list sent my head spinning. I asked her leading questions about #4 to see what all she knew about how babies are made in general...and decided that that question could wait a bit.

We talked about #2 first: Why does God have to stay up in the sky?

Slight diversion: my stepmother, when asked, told me that when I give my stepkids answers to tough questions, I am to be clear, concise, and to the point. I am to be as brief as possible. I hear this works.

Sadly, I do not work that way. Or maybe not so sad...because I think my stepkids are learning a greater vocabulary thanks to me. Either that or they are learning to be completely stumped by my strange metaphors, poetic and passionate language, and circular points.

Anyway, I gave her a succinct answer to #2:

God does not have to stay up in the sky, I said.

We talked about what Heaven was...we looked in her concordance...looked up verses that talked about Heaven...we talked about God's dwelling place....

but also how God is among us all the time. We talked how we can see God working in other people and ourselves - in how we love, trust, believe, serve, and act.

I know that is a hard concept for her to grasp. She wants to think of God as a person, asking how God was born...

we got sidetracked a bunch of times.

The second question we tackled was #1: Why do they say "fear God" in the Bible? Does that mean that we should be afraid of him?

I referenced biblegateway and looked up the word "fear" and all its meanings. Sure enough, I was able to explain it pretty simply. To fear, in a God-sense, means to respect, to show reverence for God.

Then I said something that wasn't on the docket. I knew it could go over her head...and perhaps it did...but I wanted her to start hearing it now because it is something I strongly believe.

I explained how we learn when we are young that God is all about love and forgiveness and joy. And yes, God is all those things. God blesses us with unimaginable gifts. However, I explained carefully, we ought to realize that we must also respect God and follow God's rules for our lives. God knows what is best for us. He is the Ultimate Parent - even more important than me and Daddy, I told Miss G. And while it is so important to know that God loves us, it is just as important to know that we have a responsibility to God to live our lives under His direction the best we can.

Sometimes you have to tell the truth even if it uses big words and grand ideas. 

In talking about respect, I asked Miss G: "how can you show respect for God?"

Her answer amazed me.

"By reading the Bible," she started. "And...going to church...and praying...every day...praying when you are sad or mad or when someone is mean to you or when you need something..."

I chuckled.

And then she said, "and you have to trust Him."

I stopped in my tracks.

I felt the Holy Spirit fill the room and I felt God whisper to me: take this opportunity.

I swallowed hard, prayed quickly for wisdom and guidance....

"All the things you said are great things," I told Miss G. "God certainly wants us to read the Bible, go to church, and pray every day."

She smiled, pleased that she had said the right answers.

"But what you said at the end....that is the most important, biggest, hugest, most gigantic thing of all."

Her eyes got big and curious.

"Because think about it," I said. "If you didn't trust God...and that includes loving Him...if you didn't trust that God was all-powerful and mighty and loving and all the things we know, would you want to go to church and read the Bible and pray every day?"

She was starting to catch on, but I knew I had to elaborate.

"If you thought the Bible was just a storybook, a fairy tale, just another cool book that parents read to kids at bedtime...would that make you realize how awesome God is? And then make you do all those things you listed before?"

She shook her head no.

We matched smiles and I continued: "It is so important to decide to love and trust God because then reading the Bible and going to church and praying will spring forth from that! It will be so much easier and more fun because you trust and believe."


It was getting late so I decided to end our lesson for tonight. I told her what "closing in prayer" meant and she joined me in thanking God for giving us this opportunity to talk together; I thanked God for giving Miss G a heart full of great questions and I asked God to continue to give Miss G strength to ask those questions, no matter what. I also prayed for Miss G as school would start soon and she would meet people who didn't share her beliefs. I prayed that Miss G would be strong in her love and trust in God and love those who were mean and to pray for them.

I could have gone on and on. I could have talked circles about loving, trusting, believing in God.

But I knew my little inquisitive 8-year-old girl had to get to bed.

And so I tucked her in, hugged, and kissed her goodnight.

I feel a glow inside me as I write this. I don't feel prideful or think, what a great stepmom I am. 

Rather, I think, what a great God we have!

I am so grateful that Miss G is who she is and I am who I am and God placed us together "for a time such as this" (Esther 4:14).

I am so honored by the role God has given me. Of course, I carry doubt and worry that I am not "qualified" to teach God's Word...that I don't know "enough..."

But God does not require us to have a PhD in Divinity Studies for us to share and teach about Him.

He asks us to love, trust, and obey Him.

And I think I did that tonight.

More importantly, with God's wisdom and guidance, I think I paved the way for a little girl to do just that..

****note: I realize that many could argue with the answers I gave Miss G. However, I feel I gave her the best answers for her maturity level that I could. Thank you for grace. ****

Reorientating

Watching this interview with favorite author, Ann Voskamp (an hour long - so worth it!)

Staying up too late soaking in the fresh breeze we are now able to feel through the screen doors which we've opened now that the heat has subsided.

I have the honor of assisting ministering at tomorrow's church service. This feeds an insatiable craving to serve on a larger level...

...and yet God still brings my gaze back to my husband and stepchildren and reminds me of my call to serve them first and foremost.

Thinking of the Sovereignty of God:

http://www.theopedia.com/Sovereignty_of_God
which, to me, means the Why's and praying for His Because's...which sometimes rest in silences

realizing, like Ann Voskamp said in her interview, my default is fear.

How I want to do all of this just right. I want to be a good wife, stepmother (I am a mother, in all practical ways), and mostly, a good and faithful child of God.

I care about and invest myself in helping the poor.

But do I show my dependence on Him for that which I lack here in my life?

At bedtime, I tell my 8 year old that God loves and takes care of her, but do I let my fear control me so that I am not showing that I believe and trust God to love and take care of me?

"I'm stumbling through it," Ann says. "It's not my default to get this right. My default is...I am fallen. And how do I intentionally reorient to the Cross, to Christ, and to Gospel again?"

So tonight, as I stumble over rocks which trip me up, rocks of my past, rocks of pain and heartache; tonight I cling to the Rock that is my Salvation and my Hope.

I pray that you are having a blessed and peaceful weekend, wherever you are.

And I am so grateful that we don't get it right all the time.

Because sometimes the sweetest thing is to be lovingly reorientated back to what matters most.

God lifts my head to Him. May He lift yours as well and bid you goodnight.

When Good is Maybe

I came home and wrote a hasty facebook update that said:

My hands are shaking from the amount of money the car guy told me we'll have to pay for my jeep to be fixed. I listened to faith radio all day today and they were pleading for child sponsorship. I ached to reach out to a 3rd child once more...decided to focus on the 2 I do sponsor and pour myself into that. But then the car. How do I reconcile all this lack and need with prosperity and having? And when my prosperity and having breaks down....and my hands shake due to fear of the not-enough....how do I reconcile all that?

 

I then heard the television on and turned my head to see the girls out in the backyard. Electricity on and nobody there to use it. Hot flashed to my face. Hands shook harder. I walked outside and asked them if they were out for good. The younger said yes. I told them what the problem was. And I faced my own problem.

You see, I wanted to cry out - not to them, but at them - I wanted to cry at them in fear and tell them how we had just lost a huge amount of money (in my mind) to my car being fixed and that we really can't afford to be throwing money out the window by leaving televisions and radios on when we are not using them. 

 And yet I also wanted to let them know that I believed and trusted God to provide. 

 And there was my problem: did I? Was I?

What came out was a paradox I am ashamed of which I said in haste and still-boiling irrational anger: 

"We just lost a lot of money in fixing my car and..... God will provide, we know...but what we do have we can't be throwing out the window by leaving the XBOX on while you are not even down there."

Older girl sighed sulky and younger looked down and mumbled, sorry. 

And as they walked back inside I had to look down in shame and mumble sorry because I had not said what I wanted to say, not modeled what I wanted to model. 

And Husband came in and I cried sad and shamed and leaned into his strength because I was too afraid to lean into His strength, too ashamed to even look up at my Father who I feared was so disappointed in me. 

 I let the world tell me my worth yet again. 

Husband listened and rubbed my temples, saying that maybe it is good for me to be wrestling with my trust in God. 

Because, he said, we have cars to worry about

and we have electricity that we can worry about wasting

and we have the ability to bring our car into a place right away should it break down

and we have a bank account of X amount of dollars to worry about it decreasing by Y amount. 

And I cried long and releasing as he continued to rub my temples lovingly. 

Speaking not in sharp, harsh tones, but in soft, gentle reminders to the girl lost in a current of doubt. 

I told him about the children I had heard about each time I got in my car and turned on the radio. How they lived in sub-sustaining conditions. They had no car, no electricity, no pet to worry about buying litter for. 

 How do I reconcile that? I asked him, tears rolling down cheeks easy. 

"Maybe it's good," Husband said...

And so I will sit here as Husband makes dinner and older girl asks to snack on ramen noodles and Husband answers, "but I'm making dinner right now" and he assures her that it won't be long and girl complains that she's hungry and I think about her lean frame and healthy weight and I think about too-thin, too-hungry children all around the world. 

How do we keep from playing the comparison game where we then feel guilty and burdened and then how do we accept the command to love the poor that Jesus has given us? 

  "Can I have a pickle? A teeny one?"

"Dinner will be ready as soon as I can make it."

"But Dad, I'm a growing teenager."

"And..."

"But..."

"And..."

"But..."

So I do not know how to end this post because there really is no end to the world's need, is there.

And I can imagine God thinking, "there is no end to my children's complaining, is there?"

And yet He loves us. And he continues to provide. 

We'll give thanks to You
With gratitude
For lessons learned in how to trust in You
That we are blessed beyond what we could ever dream
In abundance or in need
And if You never grant us peace
But Jesus, would You please . . .

~ "Gratitude" by Nichole Nordeman

 

 

Enough is Not Enough: A Prayer and Praise Realization

Life has been hard lately. Just when I thought we had enough, God gave us more. Who am I to judge what "enough" is?

"No temptation has seized you except what is common to man. And God is faithful; he will not let you be tempted beyond what you can bear. But when you are tempted, he will also provide a way out so that you can stand up under it."

~1 Corinthians 10:13 NIV

I think if I had it my way "enough" would be a very low standard as I am wont to be lazy.


Not so with our God.

But many times over the course of these past weeks, have I, for the first time, looked at the cross above our bed and uttered these words: "When are You going to stop this?"

I actually said that. I might have also said something like, "when will this end?"

Perhaps even a choked-out, "Why do You keep doing this to us?"

I see now that I was getting more desperate and more disillusioned by the moment.

The enemy loves to camp on disillusionment.

image from http://archive.brothersmcleod.co.uk/posts/show/23

I slept two hours last night into this morning. A lot of bad stuff went down. I prayed and cried for hours, knowing that, at 4:00 in the morning, I could not go back to sleep because I had to get up in two hours for work and I knew if I did go to sleep after my exhaustive crying and praying, it would be harder to wake myself back up.

So I took a shower and prayed. I turned on the radio softly and prayed. I pet my cat and prayed. Then I decided to just leave and get to work hideously early and pray.

I looked carefully at my Christian library and chose a few key books I thought might aid me in making it through the day should I have time to sit and read for a few moments.

One of those books was "Mercy in the Wilderness" by Susie Larson

image from susielarson.com

I can't begin to describe how intensely this book has ministered to me. Susie's story is take-your-breath-away-inspirational in that real-world kind of way, the kind of way that makes you want to reach out and hug her (I think I may email her anyway!) and thank her profusely.

When I read that, during years of constant trauma and one difficulty after another, she felt God tell her that this would get a lot harder before it got easier -- I knew I was hearing that, too, in my own battles.

God told me yesterday that my fire is coming.

This third I will bring into the fire; I will refine them like silver and test them like gold. They will call on my name and I will answer them; I will say, 'They are my people,' and they will say, 'The LORD is our God.'"

~ Zechariah 13:9

And as Beth Moore says, "There is no fire that can't refine you" (paraphrased from "Breaking Free").

I kept telling myself not to be afraid. We all go through valleys and as long as we know our Companion is there, we don't have to feel alone and abandoned.

In the wee hours of the morning, amidst desperate prayers, I looked up at the familiar "Footprints" poem on my wall.

"Carry me, Lord," I whispered. "I can't walk one step today without You."

As I sighed out that prayer, I rose and took my shower and left for work.

The day was a good one. I was with a favorite client at work and we shared smiles and laughter.

But coming home, that same groaning, ache in my stomach resurfaced. That fear that had come to be normal when thinking about returning to our downhome chaos and tension. Something destructive happening nearly every day.

I listened to my favorite worship music (lately it's been Nichole Nordeman, Nicole Serrano, and Christy Nockels)

and prayed more.

I wasn't praying for just myself, mind you. I prayed for my husband, my children, our family as a whole. I prayed for us to cling to God and for the enemy to not find a foothold to step on.

This morning God orchestrated Life 102.5  playlist as He often does for His listeners and as I emerged from the shower, "Praise You in this Storm" was on and while that song is often on, I knew it was a call for me to do just that.

I knew that God wanted me to know that things were going to get harder...

but He had not given me a spirit of fear

for God gave us a spirit not of fear but of power and love and self-control.

~ 2 Timothy 1:7 (ESV)

No, He did not give me a spirit of fear...and I tried to let that fear wash away with every song I listened to on the way home.

My 40-ish minute drive home is a blessing on many days. I drive through rural countryside and the sun (when it is out) is a gift upon the land which my eyes feast on, sometimes even with tears.

Then Nichole Nordeman's song, "No More Chains" came on.An excerpt:

"How did I get locked up inside?
What's this that renders me paralyzed?
I lost myself in small pieces
It happened over time

I traded love for a heavy chain
Another link every other day
I pulled it up and down a mountain
It made me want to say?

No more chains
No more chains
Big and small, watch them fall away
No more chains
Big and small, watch them fall away"

And I said
Oh, Lord, take this bondage away. I long to be free from fear, anxieties, tension.

I pulled into the garage. I had no idea what I'd walk into. Would the younger two be screaming? Would Husband be so tense he could not even function? Would the teenager choose yet another deviant action?

I walked inside and Husband was lying on the couch, obviously exhausted. He said he had gotten 3 hours of sleep. I nodded. Two was my story.

We talked a bit. I shared some ideas about how we could help this family.

But we've tried so many things. How could we know this was not just the "next thing?"

I don't know, I answered. But how is doing what we are doing now going?

So I hope we can make more steps toward love and freedom in coming days, weeks, months, years.

The evening actually went very well. The teen had 2 friends over, the little ones were well-behaved and sweet. As the evening wore on, I sat on the couch and continued to read "Mercy in the Wilderness."

I came across this passage:

"When God opens the skies and provides a brief moment of relief from our circumstances, is this a cruel joke to tease and reminds us how tough things really are? No! I submit that it's a precious gift from a patient Father who wishes we were not so earth-bound." (p117)

I sat there dumbfounded. The younger two played outside, Husband was downstairs setting something up on the computer and the eldest was in her room playing a computer game.

Peace reigned in our home that night.

The evening was a miracle and I had let it go by unacknowledged.

I felt slapped upside the head. I immediately put my book down and raised my head, folded my hands. And I began the most humbling dialogue with God.

Forgive me, I said. How dare I pray every minute of the day on behalf of this family when we are in turmoil...and yet when those prayers get answered....when peace finally floods its way into our home, even for a few hours....I say nothing.

Do I really only go to God when it's hard? What about this "Praise You in This Storm" stuff?

"And I'll praise You in this storm and I will lift my hands
For You are who You are no matter where I am..."

Was I praising Him no matter where I was? Absolutely not!

Forgive me, Lord, I begged.  

How dare I! I let shameful tears fall. And I felt my Father lift my head and say

It is never too late to praise Me. 

 

So I did. I did with all my heart and I did with glorious tears. 

Husband came upstairs to find me in the middle of my befuddled realization and I hurry-told him all that I had realized. What a gift God had given us! And I was just going through the evening as though 

as luck would have it

we had a good night. 

And later that night God had yet another miracle to unveil. 

Earlier, during my car-prayertime, I had decided on the most important (to me) prayer of all. I prayed:

Lord, let Husband see You through me. 

And that night, Husband told me the following:

Seeing your spirituality tonight inspired me and because of that I feel closer to God than I have in a while.

My eyes just about bugged out.

How can we ever judge that "this is enough?" 

How can enough to us be enough to God?

Only God knows what is "enough" and He already promised not to pour upon us more than we can handle.  

It is a bit dangerous and radical when you pray to God what you really desire. 

Because, as I've written before, when you pray for patience...He will undoubtedly place people or situations in your life that will test your patience and thus mold you into a more patient person.

So when I pray for peace in this family I know what I may be getting myself into.

But our God is a Sovereign God and I trust in His wisdom and foreknowledge. 

That night was a big one - of humble realization, humility, celebration, praise. 

I know that not every day will be sunshiny and rosy. 

There will be storms. 

But I swear I will praise You, God, even in those storms because I know that You know there is a clear, blue sky just waiting for Your word. 

  

I Will Stay Awake

Good Friday started with me opening my eyes to sunshine streaming in my bedroom. Ah, a day off. I normally wake up at 5:45am in darkness. I laid in bed for a few minutes, relaxing, still sleepy.

Then I realized what day it was. It was my second favorite holy day of the Church calendar: Good Friday. Why do I love it so much? It is solemn, desperately sad…yet if that is all we see of Good Friday, we fail to see the “Good” part.

I love Good Friday because it makes me look in the mirror and admit exactly what Jesus did for me. We are, you are, I am the reason Jesus went to the cross and soaked up all our sins like a sponge. His love so deep, his compassion so strong.

As I’ve been going about my day I’ve been meditating on something I thought of yesterday:

I was talking aloud to God in the car and I said, Jesus, let me feel Your presence tonight. Help me to feel You with me.

And I paused and then said, and I pray that You feel me, too.

I stopped in my tracks. 

Huh? Do we pray for Jesus to feel our presence? 

Do we ask God to feel us? Is that a conceited or silly thing to pray? I really had to think about this.

I certainly am not God. I know there aren’t people praying to me, “Oh, I pray for your presence.” Why would I expect God to say to me, “Oh thank you, child of mine, for praying that I might feel you.”

But that’s not how I meant it. Plus, I don’t think God is that haughty.

I always ask God to be with me. I felt bad yesterday because isn’t God always with us?

Immanuel = God With Us.

I wanted Jesus to know that I was with him.

In Scripture, where Jesus asks his main disciples to stay awake with him in the garden of Gethsemane, it breaks my heart to know they didn’t. I realize, sadly, that I could have made that very mistake.

Then he returned to his disciples and found them sleeping. “Simon,” he said to Peter, “are you asleep? Could you not keep watch for one hour? Watch and pray so that you will not fall into temptation. The spirit is willing, but the body is weak.”
-Mark 14:37-38 (NIV)

And so I say, Jesus, I know I did not stay awake for you.

In other words, I know I sinned.

I want to devote my life to you. Please know I will stay with you. I will follow you. I will believe you.

And so, on this Good Friday, as the crowds surrounded him hung high on the cross, as some mocked and jeered, some cried and wailed, today I am standing there with the believers, with those who know who Jesus is and who we are in His presence.

I believe in you, Lord. Thank you for dying for us.

I pray that you feel me, I who have sinned and will sin again. I pray that you know I will not fall asleep. I will remain awake and vigilant. I pray that, just as I feel and know your love, that you feel and know mine.