Heartache

I woke up this morning after a fitful night of begging sleep to come and quiet the pangs of heartache. As I began to hold our allies up in prayer, the wound in my soul deepened, the violence that has taken root in our world would like to take over. I look at my two boys, ripe with hope, courage and great faith in God and my heart wrenches in my chest. In my 11 year old's lifetime, he has seen more racism, senseless violence and great tragedy than I ever had at his age. School shootings, police shootings and acts of terrorism - how do I explain to them, or better yet - how do I help them feel safe?

I get incredibly exhausted by the political rhetoric or crazies boycotting red cups - there are far greater things in this world to throw your passion behind. The world is raising up a generation that sees violence as an acceptable means to an end with a very real lack of respect for humanity...and we're arguing about Caitlin Jenner? I never remember being 11 and being scared of "terrorists" - I am certain that word wasn't in my day to day.

People are hurting all over the world. It think it is time that we get on our knees and pray. Pray for our children. Pray for safety and provision from God. Pray for peace wherever there is conflict. Pray for an end to senseless violence. Just pray. The prayers of my children awe me and last night was no different:

"Father God, help them to see you and know you love them, then they will stop hurting each other"

Amen.

Setting the Table

Not that long ago I had little fingers and not-so-nimble hands that clamored up to the table for a meal, hoisting themselves into "big boy chairs" to participate in the evening ritual of eating dinner as a family.  Not that long ago I carefully set the table with an excess of napkins and some kid-friendly plate, rounding out the table with a plastic cup with a lid to prevent spills.  I went to great lengths to find cute plates that looked exciting or enticing to the boys, probably in some misguided thought that a plate with a monster on it would make eating asparagus more appealing.  We have Transformer placemats and kid sized silverware and stacks of unbreakable cups.

In a moment of reflection this morning while putting these plates away into the cupboard, I had a flash of conviction. As silly as it may sound, God can talk to you in the simple things too.  I had spent so many years protecting things from getting broken or ruined because of little fingers and little hands that I had made the world seem unbreakable to my children and in some small way let them believe I didn't trust them with the bigger things, the breakable things.  The great irony here is that the plates we used when they were little were in a give away box three moves ago because all the moving and movers had left half the set chipped or broken.  I hadn't let them use them because they were of value to me and yet now they don't even fill my cabinets. 

I read somewhere that the difference in my generation versus my grandparent's generation is we don't see the value in keeping the old because we're always interested in getting the NEW.  It is true, isn't it?  Go on E-bay and search for an iPhone 4 if you don't believe me.  She was one of 8 - the only girl with 7 brothers.  She tells me they had their squabbles but never to the degree that you hear of today - they were family and were good to each other, end of story.  I was visiting with her last fall and talking about how dysfunctional I believed my family to be.  There are 6 of us; 4 from one marriage and 2 from another; 3 boys and 3 girls.  Our family story couldn't be more different if I tried.  I rarely if ever speak to any of them, we don't live near each other and we are not familiar with each other's lives in a way that makes us familiar at all.  We are so fractured that "family" doesn't seem like a good word to describe what we are...or maybe therein lies the brokenness in our culture, what is family today?

My family is me and the three guys I share this house with.  My family is my best friend in Mississippi and my college friend in North Carolina.  My family is friends I have loved in Ohio, North Carolina, Maryland and Tennessee, friends I do love here in Oklahoma - that is who my family is to me.  If you ask my Grandma, she'd say her family is her FAMILY and her friends are her friends.  Her family is who she sat around the table with and once the table was set, they gobbled down whatever their Mom had cooked on the breakable plates and never once complained about asparagus because it was food and they were hungry.  Her Mom didn't buy plastic plates or cups and if they broke a plate, they broke a plate.  They were taught not to fight over things or toys because things and toys were scarce.  They set the table, sat around the table and that was where life happened in her home. 

One of my most sweet memories of childhood was sitting around the table to eat dinner as a family.  The place of honor at the table was the seat adjacent to our Dad and across from our Mom.  Joe and I fought over that seat almost every day.  We would talk about our day, laugh, be scolded for our choices, hear about what our Dad did at work that day - life happened around that table.

The three handsome guys I live with, we do the kitchen table thing in our house too.  Not as often as I'd like, but we do set the table, talk around the table and ask to be excused from the table. Not as much life happens around the table as I'd like either.  We are usually operating at a hurried pace trying to eat in time enough to get to the next activity and I still put those plastic plates on the table as if somehow the monster plates will keep them small, protecting them from something be broken.  We replace things that get broken with something new because it hurts to see them sad because something is broken.  Convicted again.  My Mom always told me "life isn't fair" and I didn't get it as a kid but I sure do now.  I don't feel like a parenting failure, but I do know that I have spent more than my fair share protecting them from brokenness and going out of my way to make sure nobody ends up sad...and try as I might, I could never keep the world out enough to prevent the brokenness and sadness from invading our home. I couldn't stop them from seeing that life is not fair, try as I might.  The newness always wears off and things do end up broken, that doesn't mean that life is over nor does it mean that everything is replaceable. 

Today, I am giving away the monster plates and the plastic cups because it is passed time that they know I trust them enough to live in a breakable world.  They have lived through many moves across thousands of miles, lost loved ones that made their heartache, left behind friends knowing that they would probably never see them again - I think it is passed time that I give them the credit that they can survive in a breakable world.  I have prayed over them and hovered over them when they have felt brokenness, witnessed tragedy, felt great grief.  They know and understand that GOD is the healer of our breakable world.  They know that they have a soul that cannot be broken by the world because GOD has promised to be faithful to them, even in brokenness.  They know that some things in life are irreplaceable.  They know that the irreplaceable things are not things at all - but most of the time, the irreplaceables in life are the people.  They also know that brokenness can mean irreplaceable relationships can be lost. 

I wish I had my china here - because tonight, I would set the table with that instead of the plastic plates. 

God speaks to me in the biggest moments too, but I am ever so grateful that he speaks me in the little and simple ones too.

Bonded

We live in a small town that seems to be happily nestled in this precarious place of status quo, the overwhelming urge to flee, before I too, am sucked into the mire is near impossible to escape.

And yet, somehow, we've bonded with this place. Not in a soul mate/forever/permanent type of way, but bonded nonetheless. Bonded to people and friendly faces, bonded to flat opened fields (that are all the rage in my hometown- these Okies don't understand the appeal of the flat backyard when they are all flat), bonded to my fabulous foursome that I selfishly hoard almost exclusively to myself...bonded to this place.

This came as a surprise to me, this bonding thing. I am not a joiner, a gaggle of girlfriends person or even a "people" person. I love my husband, my sweet boys, my best friend, my Mom and some close family enough to take a bullet for them, but the whole group think mentality of social relationships feels fake, lacking in authenticity and therefore exhausting, futile and pointless. So when I began to feel ties to this place I was flummoxed. How did this happen?

Little by little, I realized, I had let people and life actually take up space in my day to day goings on. The years of being gypsies had hardened me and instinctively, I wanted to protect my family and self from any perceived threat to maintaining our constant survival mode.  Guarding, I am always on guard.  And yet, we are bonded to this place.

So, as I processed what it meant to "feel" bonded,  I began to explore what it could look like if I let someone know that I gave a darn. There are many passions that run deep in my heart. Politics, freedom, the heroism of soldiers, the importance of seeking God with all you are and all you have...the list goes on, but if you know me at all, you know I am crazy about my kids.  I have spent a good amount of my life caring for someone else's and then my own children.  I get kids.  I especially "get" the kids that struggle with everyone else.  I don't know how or why, but I do.  I love the kids that disturb the classroom, that beg for attention and get it in any way, shape or form, that need one person to see them for who they are not how they behave.  I would rather be with a group of silly kids than a group of grown-ups any day of the week.  There is no pretense, they are painfully honest and much more willing to forgive.  They see the world with less skepticism and cynicism and more wonder.  I would go to battle for my children because I love them, care about their future and want to see the world touched by how they live out God's will for their lives. So, as I contemplate what it means to be bonded to this place, I have to scratch my head in wonder when I see that as crazy as I am about seeing children grow up in a big beautiful world full of opportunity, I am not in the majority. 

It has been over a week since there was a vote in my little town to do something extraordinary for the young children in our community.  They were going to build this big, beautiful and brand new school, all we, the people, had to do was get on board and be willing to share just a small portion of what we have been given with the children needing this new place to be built.  I can't help but be reminded of what Jesus said, "what you do for the least of these, you do for me."  In a town chocked full of churches, smack dab in the Bible belt, some how these words get lost in a political fray that ultimately comes down to one central issue: don't you dare expect me to separate myself from MY money for the benefit of someone else.  We can tiptoe around it, walk on eggshells or use euphemisms to make it seem less selfish or greedy, but I believe being direct is much more effective.  For those reading this outside of my little town, let me paint a picture:
               McAlester is home to Oklahoma's death row.  We have a epidemic level methamphetamine   problem, my 3rd grader asked me the other day what a "meth lab" was.  Poverty is also rampant.  9 out of 10 children at a local school are on free or reduced lunch.  The schools here, because of the high rate of poverty, get federal funds to supply free breakfasts everyday to every student.  There are many single-parent homes, children in foster care, children being raised by family members because a parent or both parents are incarcerated.  We have multitudes of people living on some form or multiple forms of government assistance.  This is a place in dire need of a new start, hope and a future. 

As in everything in life, there are two sides to every coin.  So, here's what the flip side looks like in McAlester.  We have committed and devoted public school teachers that go to bat for our children in the classroom and at the capital.  They work tirelessly to overcome obstacles that should not exist in the lives of preschool, elementary or even high school students.  We have a vibrant community of volunteers that will work towards cleaning up the town, passing out backpacks full of food to the students that go hungry over the weekend and build houses through Habitat for Humanity.  Small town America still exists - this place is living proof.  Coffee shops, restaurants and clothing stores are locally owned and operated.  Small business owners can thrive here.  Football season is Friday Night Lights.  Everyone knows everyone and that can be a comfort as much as a pain. 

So, it should go without saying that the parts of me that feel bonded to this place are more aligned with the more attractive elements than not.  I struggle against feeling like this place is "home" because I cannot fathom how the importance of raising up our children in the way that they should go is LOST because of the unwillingness to cough up the cash to move our little town into this century. 

The longing for more pangs in my soul as I see these kids that need more hope in their lives.  Born into privilege, I have never known hunger or neglect or real need.  I see so much need and want to respond, support, lift up and save these precious babies from the vicious cycles of under-education, lack of opportunity and poverty.  I have never known these obstacles in my personal life, but I cannot close my eyes and pretend that this isn't happening in my own back yard, because it is.  It is everyday.

I let someone know that I gave a darn about these kids and I let them know that I felt we were responsible for meeting a need here.  I let down my guard.  It hurts and stings to see the response but I am too bonded to these kids to let it deter me from doing it again and again until we all see the need and are willing to meet it.  The lesson here for me has been that letting my guard down can let the light shine in - the light always overcomes the darkness.  I am counting on that, leaning into the promises that His hope for all our futures is designed perfectly. 

I am bonded to this place.  Even after we make our inevitable departure for a corporate career ladder move, I will still be bonded to this place and these kids that pull at my heart strings.  There are many children here that need a friend, mentor, coach, big brother/sister - if you're so inclined, go make a connection with just one of them and you'll see what I mean.

(stepping off my soap box...)
have a blessed day.

Endurance

I haven't taken time to blog since we moved to Oklahoma - not because I didn't have anything to add to the internet gobbledegook but more because I haven't found the inspiration to be anything other than a Debbie Downer.  We left Ohio in a flurry at the beginning of August and until now, in the peace and solitude of unemployment and childlessness (they are both in school), things have been dizzingly surreal, disturbingly dysfunctional and, well...just plain hard. 

I prayed for this --- I keep having to remind myself of that fact.  I fervently, with all my heart, put my husband before the Lord and asked him to MOVE in such a way that Chris could NOT deny that the Savior of the universe had good, defined and perfect plans for him.  I had peace with my prayers for him and I knew that God would act in the best interest of my husband.  The desires of my heart were for Chris to KNOW in his heart that God had a perfect plan for his life and without boring you all with the tedious details, it is obvious that God did move, in mighty ways, he moved. 

God moved - so did we.  900 miles away.  Back to a place we left behind us....as in, didn't look back.  So, here to meet us was the realities we left here when we turned our tails and got the heck out of dodge.  Some of those realities were pleasant.  Most of them were not.  Facing the facts that we were not the people that left McAlester - and yet, here we were again, being confronted with the reflections of who we were when we moved here the first time.  Personally, I was a homesick, lonely and scared outsider - I can look back at that time and remember very clearly that my sole intention of this "trip" to OK was to get my husband promoted and so, while I was here I was to ASSIMILATE and SURVIVE.  So, I did.  I joined a church, got involved with the PTSO at the school, volunteered at Hospice, worked with CASA, hosted dinners at our house, brought covered dish dinners to families in need, taught Sunday school and generally just tried to BLEND.  And, for all intensive purposes, it worked.  I survived.  Then we moved away and were taken to a place that was new and I was so very tempted to do the very same thing - but something stopped me.  Something changed.  Something life-altering happened.  My Dad died.

In a gray, heavy and sometimes blinding fog - I left this place and started over somewhere else.  The details of some of those moments that followed his passing and our moving and the rest are still hazy - it was like I was walking around with a blindfold on - in part because I didn't want to see life for what it was without my Dad, the other part was that I just couldn't see beyond the grief.  It cloaked me in darkness and only when the fog finally lifted I was reckoning with so much more than I ever could have imagined.  Reckoning with grief is one thing - reckoning with yourself is another.  There I was, looking in the mirror, hardly recognizing who I had become or even who I was to begin with. 

God uses all things to bring glory to Him.  That person looking back at me was unrecognizable because I had allowed myself to assimilate and survive to such an extent that I couldn't identify that I was His.  I could talk a good game, but at the end of the day, I was so very lost.  God uses all things to bring glory to Him.  Me being lost, so very lost, was the turning point in my life. I had relied solely on myself for so much and when I was in need, I turned to my Dad - never really surrendering all to my God.  I had a support in my Dad that transcended almost all of my other relationships - he was ALWAYS there for me.  In the wake of this death I had to reckon with the truth that I had depended upon my earthly father more than my Heavenly Father and now, there I was, feeling much like an orphan abandoned on the side of the road....and there I found my Savior.  It was coming to Him as a broken, surrendered and helpless child that I found my Father.  It was there I found restoration, healing and forgiveness.

I was so very at peace with our life - I felt like I was home and the benefit of being led and fed by gracious and loving hands was such an irreplaceable gift.  God moved because I begged him to do so, I just have to keep reminding myself of that fact.  So, here we are.  Three months in and this is still as hard as ever. 

When I take my concerns to put them before the Lord, the spirit whispers that I am to ENDURE.  That word keeps being brought to my attention - whether it be in Bible study or devotion or prayer time...ENDURE.  I find myself at odds with that call - times when I rally and feel like I endured well that day; other days when I fall on my face, cry out for respite and beg to released from the call to endure.  It isn't torture, it isn't watching my child fight against a terminal illness, it isn't working three jobs to feed our family...but somedays I get so tired of rationalizing things by saying "it could be worse."  Yes, it could be.  I could be persecuted and in jail for my faith, I could be watching my child fight for his life, I could be scrubbling toilets at McDonald's during the grave yard shift to put ramen noodles on the table - and the fact that none of those things apply to me makes me eternally grateful for the many blessings that I enjoy.  I cannot stop asking, however, what could be worse than feeling so very distant from God?  I take great peace in knowing HE is there - but I don't FEEL it and that makes my soul cry out for more.  It grieves my soul to have felt such presence and then to feel like it slipped away.  I blame myself for feeling distant - He never left me - so that means it is I who has strayed.  How did I let that happen?  To have loved and lost is far greater a travesty, right?  Then...smack, it hits me again...ENDURE.

So, what does endurance look like for you?  I have a friend who is married to a great man that has been battling cancer like a warrior for years and she is a rockstar and a hero because she has ENDURED three lifetimes worth of pain, struggle, fear...and she is still standing.  She inspires me.  There's a little girl that I know here that has spent 4 of the last 8 years of her young life wondering what it would be like to have her Dad in her life - he was released from his 4 year sentence about a month ago and now what she endured has been rewarded with arms that hug her tight and promises he will be there from now on.  I have a close friend that was deployed to Iraq only to come home at the end of her tour to her stepmother with stage III breast cancer - not a hero's welcome, not an adjusting to life back in the states...a get home NOW and forget what has happened because this is happening NOW.  She endured.  So, I am surrounded by people that have endured so heroically, so courageously, so inspiringly - I can't help but be shamed by my inability to endure.

Of course, I know logically, this is because I have let myself stray away from the foot of the cross.  I have let bitterness, anger, frustration and stubborness cloud my ability to see God for who He is, to seek His face and all His glory.  I am a humbled, so humbled - still very lost, but humbled as I crawl back to the foot of the cross.  The healing I receieved through such grace has not left me and it would seem my resolve has been rediscovered as I re-focus my eyes on where they should have been all along. While I still feel called to endure - the choice is mine how I will endure.  I pray for the ability to endure with grace, kindness, generosity and joy. 

Homeless

For those of you that don't know, we "sold" our house yesterday.  After just 8 short days on the market, someone came into our home and decided they wanted to make it theirs.  I would like to think it was because they felt at home here, that and the baking brownies candle wafting delicious smells from the kitchen. 

From our first encounter with this home last spring, I could walk into the house and immediately feel like I was home.  I would smile pulling into the driveway most days because I loved that warm-fuzzy feeling I would get when I stepped over the threshold and knew that this was the place where my entire body would sigh with relief after a long day or a doctor's appointment or a long day of work.  I homeschooled in this home, so it was also a place where we learned, grew, challenged and blossomed.  It has been my sanctuary and it has held me closely as I have been healed, restored and renewed.  When people say "there is no place like home" - I never really understood until we moved into our home here in Ohio. Before anyone accuses me of this sense of "home" being linked to the amenities, let me clarify - while I do adore the big kitchen and tons of cabinets and the immense spans of the "go play in the basement" basement, it has been more than that.

I arrived on the footsteps of this home a broken and battered mess. Fresh of a tragic loss and then another long distance move, I was lost, emotionally bankrupt and ready to resign to defeat.  Visions of what home means swept over me as I walked into the cold and vacant house, and as I wandered through the rooms and began to imagine myself drinking my coffee in the office or my kids playing in the backyard...I began to feel at home.  The waves of calm that this place emanate have been therapeutic for us all and I know we are better for having lived here.

When this whole process began I was devastated for several reasons, but in part it was because I knew I was going to have to give up my home.  The internal monologue that began weeks ago railed against corporate America for hauling our cookies (again) all over God's creation and the urge to dig my heels in was overwhelming.  I would sit on my front porch and pine away for the times that I had coming "home" here and already started to miss it a little. 

Then it hit me, like a truck...it wasn't really about the house or the extra kitchen cabinets or even the enormous basement; the grief I was feeling was more about the fear that I would somehow lose what I had become here.  A home to come home too was an integral part of making this place a great place to live, but what we have experienced in our church home has been of greater significance than any other time in our lives.  Here we have been healed.  Here we have been taught.  Here we have been ministered to in a way that we have never experienced and leaving that scared me.  What if we leave here and lose what we have gained?  What if we leave here and lose the ever closer relationship we have with our God?  The same comfort I felt walking into our home, I felt while listening to our Pastor preach and the praise band sing in worship.  I have been transformed and what if that starts to fall apart when we don't have that anymore?

Of course, I have since been reminded, again and again, that He made me into who I am today through this experience and the only way that can change is if I let it.  He has reminded me continually that His hand is present in every area of my life, now more than ever, and the healing can continue - the closeness does not have to change.  So, now as I walk around my house in the early morning hours I know that He goes before us to make a place for us in our next destination.  I know that what He has done in me cannot be undone unless I let it be undone, and even if I start to unravel and become "undone" that He can do every bit of what He has done here again and again and again in my life if I let Him.

Our home has held us as God has ministered to us in monumental ways and I will be forever grateful for this experience.  I will look fondly upon this place and this time as the place where surrender occurred, where healing took place and where "home" finally had meaning.  But, now it is time to move on and let someone else find refuge in these four walls.  I am going to lift them up and cover them in prayer as the time approaches that my sanctuary becomes their own.

So, yes, we are currently homeless.  However, instead of the initial panic-stricken calamity I envisioned when we hopped onto this crazy train, I feel oddly at peace because I know that while I might not have a home to go home to that is my own, I always have a home with Him and that has made all the difference.

Relentless

Hours behind the wheel of the car gives you plenty of time to think, consider, ponder, pontificate, pray and listen.  Above the cacophony of my children's giggles, yells, play and DVD selections, I am given a work day's worth of time to just focus on the road and give my life a thorough once-over in my mind.

I am struck time and time again that just when I think I have it all together, I find myself back on my knees trying desperately to put the pieces back together again. 

There is something catastrophic about being humbled to your knees as everything around you falls apart - it feels like getting kicked in the chest and as the wind escapes your chest and you gasp for air, you wonder how anything will ever feel right again.  It is devastating and yet the most beautiful process that a human can endure.  While you cling to the hope that life will be returned to how it was before it all fell apart, you soon realize that nothing will ever be the same.  To return to the same life before the brokenness would ultimately lead you back into catastrophe, right?  So, sit in the brokenness and revel in the pieces of life that have fallen around at your feet and then let the God that relentlessly pursues your very heart catch you, mend you and heal you.

He is relentless in His love, relentless in His grace, relentless in His mercies. Our ability to be independent from Him does not negate His desire for us to be dependent on Him, our wanderlust for the things of this world does not deny us the enormity of salvation, our brokenness and weakness is made perfect in Him. He is relentlessly patient for me to turn to Him as things fall apart and surrender it all at the foot of the cross.

I find myself, after a thorough once-over is that He is my healer. I lift my hands and praise Him for being relentless. His healing has given me a life far beyond my own hands could ever create, a life far better than before, a life that could never have been mine if not for the catastrophic brokenness. I gave myself over to Him as a broken sinner, shamed, disgraced, bound and broken - miraculous and beautiful, restored to anew as His child, His daughter and His masterpiece. The beautiful process of destruction was all part of reclaiming me, part of freeing me from bondage and bringing to light to whom I truly belong. The theme of His relentless love for me has echoed in post after post, He says to me, "You are mine."

He is relentlessly seeking you too. Too much of a blessing not to share.

Stormchaser

We sat through a torrential rain today, wind was literally throwing tree branches over the highway.  It was incredible to watch but also terrifying, especially for the little men in the back seat.  They looked to me to tell them it was going to be okay and as I assured them that the storm would pass I began to think.

There are people (that I find rather insane) that have made a career of chasing after storms.  Being as close to the eye of the hurricane or the funnel cloud during a tornado - they are there.  I can't help but think there must be some sort of thrill attached to being a stormchaser, otherwise I cannot imagine why someone would endanger themselves.

As the 80 mph wind whipped rain sideways across my wind shield I had a moment of reckoning; we are all stormchasers of one kind or another.  We go out into dangerous situations for the answers that the world promise are out there if we just weather the storm, we seek out ways to fulfill our desires/lusts/wants at the expense of time, effort, relationships and even safety and we walk straight into the storms senselessly, thoughtlessly and recklessly to prove some misguided notion that we are not scared of the storms of life. 

Am I a stormchaser?  As I calmed the boys and watched the rain subside enough to get back on the road, I pondered that very question. Yes, I am, but why?  When I logically know that the world won't give me the answers it promises, that the desires/lusts/wants are never worth what they cost, that the storms of life can be terrifying - why do I still chase head long into the storm?

And then I started to think about my Heavenly Father.  My boys, when they became scared, they immediately looked to me to tell them that the storm would pass - is that not exactly what I do when I am in the storm myself?  I look to my Father and plead with Him to let me know that the storm will pass.  His counsel is always wise, His truth is never changing, His ability to calm the storm will never cease and I look to Him to calm the very same storm that I just sprinted, not just ran, sprinted into all on my own accord; and yet He is still there.

I was able to calm them and they were back to silly giggles in no time and I took a moment and marveled at how easy it was for them to believe that the storm would pass - just because I said so and I am their Mom and they trust and love me, they believed me without hesitation.  Oh, to have the faith of a child.  Humbled before His throne of grace in that very moment as I marveled at my sweet boys' ability to just accept things because it was spoken so, He speaks to me and says:

My child, it really is that easy.  Do I not know the very number of hairs on your head?  Do I not know your heart like no other?  I created you.  No one will ever know you like I do and yet, you doubt that I can calm your storm. I spoke the world into being, I created a man to walk among you who then suffered and died so that you can walk, or even sprint, into the eye of the storm with reckless abandon, and I will still wash you in the water and leave you cleansed, restored, blameless and freed from the storm. Accept Me for who I am and accept to whom you belong - You are mine.

We arrived home safely to see the damage the storm had created and I replayed in my mind how God spoke to me in the middle of the storm - He would free me from the storm, restored and blameless, and yet as I looked around I was reminded that storms can do real damage. The storms of life can be as destructive as any natural disaster, the wreckage looks different but the damage is done nonetheless.  So, does that mean that He will see me through the storm but I might be almost destroyed when it passes?  Does that mean that after the clouds part and the Son appears that I will not be bruised, battered and broken? 

While I am His, I am guilty of stubborn rebellion, of brazen arrogance, of prideful pursuit of my own set of priorities.  So, to answer the questions above, there is a resounding NO.  The beauty of God's mercy and grace is that He allows us the opportunity to choose for ourselves which way we could go - there are days when I cry out to Jesus for a road map that would just get me where I needed to go.  I still haven't had even a glimpse at the map but I am always keenly aware of when I have strayed off course because in that same mercy and grace that allows me to stray if that is my choice there is also that still small voice of the Holy Spirit tugging at my heart to redirect my paths.  But, almost destroyed, brusied, battered, broken...yes, you can be all those things.  The most astouding part of grace to me is that amid destruction there is still light, even if it barely illuminates the darkest shadows, there is still light.  There is still a respite from the storm.  There is healing after the storm as the Son clears away the damage and reassembles the brokeness at the foot of His cross.

I am awed by His grace, His power. but even more than anything, His willingess and ability to forgive.  To forgive the storms we bring on ourselves, to forgive the storms he gently leads us away from and yet we still end up crying out to Him to save us after we've gone right back into the middle of it all.  I look at my boys and know I would run into any storm to save them at any cost and I know that He loves me even more than that.  Humbled and awed.  Almost destroyed, bruised, battered and broken and yet free from the storm. 

It is not coincedence that the most beautiful weather follows the storm, it is like Noah's rainbow reminding us that He is there.

Blessings!

Turn to You

What does it mean to walk away from something?  This connotes a certain degree of defeat when I say it out loud - but can it mean something else?

I am walking away from darkness.  I am walking away from what holds me captive and bound to my baggage and shame.  I am walking away from what keeps me from sleeping soundly at night.  I am walking away from relationships that I sink myself into and then start to drown into their pit of despair.  I am walking away from a life that leaves me lacking in peace, kindness, joy and contentedness.

I turn to You for it all.  When I seek Him, walking away is NOT defeat, but triumph.  When I seek His presence, walking away is less the defining action and more about what and WHO I am walking towards. 

Embraced in His everlasting arms, I turn to Him and I am saved.

Defined

Struggling.  I have spent years of my life attempting to define who I am, what I want for my life, what I will become, what I will be.  Defeatedly, I realize that to define oneself as one thing or another does two things:
1. Squishes all that a person is in every facet, situation, or moment into a proverbial box
2. Once "defined" complacency sets in and allows you to become so comfy that the challenges seem too challenging, the problems seem too problematic, the risks seem too risky

I have also come to realize that I am not ever really who I define myself as, nor the person that other people would choose to define me as - so then, who the heck am I?  I think we define ourselves by the standard that we wish we could live up to, but more often than not we fall short.  The result, in turn, leaves us feeling like a failure.  Who on Earth would be willing to define themselves as a failure?  However, with life coaches telling us that we can do, be, aspire to ANYTHING...how could that not breed self-loathing and feelings of failure?

It is a vicious cycle.  As a woman, I am particularly at risk for not living up to societal definitions of a woman (one word:  cellulite), a mother (I do spank and they have a favorite meal at every fast food chain in town), wife (I do not having a raging libido nor the ability to do cartwheels every time he walks in the door),  homemaker (at any given moment I need to dust and there is always a load of laundry to do) or friend (some days all I can seem to manage is texting or social media check-ups). However difficult the process or inadequate you feel as a result, the urge to define yourself is overwhelming because the NEED to know where you fit. 

Everyone wants to fit in somewhere and often how you define yourself determines "where" you fit.  So, back to how to define yourself. When I ask myself "who" I am the first thing that typically comes to mind is "Mom" then the rest follows, but as I have journeyed on into a deeper and more meaningful relationship with God I have happened upon a concept that makes this whole defining yourself completely unnecessary.  It is not some sort of trade secret, nor is it an original thought - but nevertheless, knowing who's I am is the most powerful thing in the world. 

I am HIS.

No matter the challenge, problem or risk, I am His.  No matter where I do or do not fit in, I am His. I will continue to perceive myself as a woman, Mom, wife, daughter or friend but as I grow, I pray that the first thing that comes to mind in the future is that I am the daughter of the King, the child of the Savior, the masterpiece of His hand.  Seeing myself this way, I feel loved.  Seeing myself this way, how could I not see the world from a different and better and more beautiful viewpoint?

How do you define yourself?

Blessings to you and yours.

Katie

Determination

It seems as if each year we all feel tempted to begin doing something "more", start doing something "less" or vow to stop doing one thing or another all together.  We begin with a bang and end with a whimper.  I have often found myself in the precarious position of lacking the intestinal fortitude to stick with whatever I have promised myself I will do differently and in the lack of willpower, strength, aptitude or commitment; I feel rather like a failure when again I end the year with that extra weight, a potty mouth and a quicker temper than I'd like. 

I did some research to find out if I could isolate the masochist that conceptualized the infamous New Year's Resolution and while I could not identify one person, it seems as if the origins begin in people of faith.  In Judaism there is Yom Kippur, the day of atonement, where one can reflect upon the wrongdoings of the year and end with offering and receiving forgiveness.  In Christianity, there is the season of Lent where people can sacrifice something to hopes to gain insight into all that Christ gave in death for forgiveness of sins.  Both religions feature forgiveness as a hallmark of making oneself a better person. 

I know that the beginning of a new year seems to give us the opportunity to start anew, with a fresh start and a happier outlook than we had when the previous year ended; however, I find it compelling to look at the seemingly faith based origins of this "resolution" process over indulging myself in flights of fancy about the resolutions that year after year remain elusive. 

Forgiveness.  What a loaded word.  Starting the year with the goal of living everyday forgiven and forgiving, now there is a resolution that sounds worthy of the battle it takes to see a resolution through the 365 days in one calendar year.  Forgiveness.  Who among us can walk with our heads held high,confident that we do not bear any ill will, unforgiveness or down right disdain for a person or persons in our life?  I guarantee, if you responded with "me", you are in short supply.  I cannot and will not offer myself as an upright example of forgiveness, for I often harbor ill will, unforgiveness and down right disdain for multiple people, especially while caught in traffic, crowded grocery store aisles and sometimes at the family dinner table.  Aghast?  Just honest. 

Most days I am fairly confident that my sins are forgiven because of my faith, belief and steadfast reliance on my Lord and Savior; however, when days come and strike me down as a disgusting, immoral, mean and selfish sinner...I do have pangs of doubt.  I have learned that on those days it is best to rely on the word of God to root out my doubt, in His word I find comfort and reassurance that, YES you are disgusting, immoral, mean and selfish BUT, I LOVE YOU ANYWAY!  To love regardless of fault, wrongdoing or indiscretion is something I cannot easily give another person, and yet I take it in without a second thought.  There is that selfishness rearing it's ugly head again. 

To forgive another person is to set free the guilt, anger, fear, disappointment, resentment or bitterness, some of which we cling to like the winning Powerball lottery ticket.  What would it mean to you to forgive that person that broke your heart?  Or the parent that neglected, abused or ignored you?  Or the friend that walks in and out of your life at whim?  Or the spouse that was unfaithful?  What would it mean to forgive yourself for being a disgusting, immoral, mean and selfish sinner? 

I have a relationship in my life that I struggle with almost daily and the struggle is rooted in my ability to forgive, or not forgive as the case may be.  I do not particularly enjoy any part of this relationship and one would think that I would do ANYTHING to resolve it so that I can summarily end this relationship and move on with my life.  However, as in everything in life, it just simply is not that easy.  To forgive this person would free me from so much anger, hurt, resentment and bitterness but I find it is so damn hard to forgive someone that has yet to seek my forgiveness, yet to apologize, yet to accept responsibility for their actions....man, do I need to get off my high horse, or what!?!  I know how self-righteous this sounds and yes, I am aware of my own need to adjust my attitude.  I am not proud of feeling this way, but that is why it has been so hard to forgive.  I think we all want to know that the person that wronged us understands why we are hurt, disappointed, etc and maybe even show some remorse...before we can forgive.  And then there is self-forgiveness; how do you forgive yourself?  Self-loathing aside, there are circumstances in everyday life that we wish we handled differently, better, etc.  We hurt others, say things we regret, lose our temper, indulge in selfishness, gluttony, lust and greed - how do we forgive ourselves? 

Therein lies the true challenge of forgiveness that makes this a worthy resolution in my mind.  To forgive without being asked, to forgive without remorse, to forgive the same transgression time and time again to forgive ourselves for falling short on a minute by minute basis...that is to forgive like our God.  Forgiveness with out a price, without an apology, without the grudge, without the self-loathing...what a gift to be given and to give.  To offer and receive forgiveness, can one occur without the other?  Most faiths ascribe to the belief that true forgiveness can only be received once you have yourself forgiven others, so that is the real litmus test in my own forgiveness - can I forgive first? 

So, rather than "resolve" to lose weight or stop swearing or start exercising regularly, I figure the best resolution I can make is to forgive first so that I can in turn receive forgiveness.  Alexander Pope said, "To err is human, to forgive divine."  Wise man.  I admit this will not be an action I will ever succeed at on my own, that divine forgiveness is not something I can ever grant, but I can work towards that goal with the Lord's ability to forgive me at least once every second as my guide. I resolve to forgive in 2012.

I pray 2012 gives each and every one of us more blessings than not, more smiles than grimaces, more laugh wrinkles than worry lines, more opportunities to hug, love, forgive and be forgiven.  Happy New Year, here's to 2012 being better than the last and another chance to try to get more right.

Stars and Stripes

A local Boy Scout troop hosted a fundraiser for their group by offering to put a flag up in our yard on all national holidays - so as I gaze out the window watching our flag flap in the breeze, I am so glad that I sent them our money because I love having a flag up at our house. 

There is something so meaningful and powerful about our flag - there is meaning and emotion and pride wrapped up in those stars and stripes.  I search out the words to explain to the boys what freedom means and what ideology is behind the American flag, but nothing translates more of what the flag "means" than seeing the flag on my Mom's mantle that she received at my Dad's funeral.  They look at it and know that the flag means service, heroism and sacrifice.

Chests swollen with pride, they marched out to the front yard and recited the pledge of allegiance in the shadow of the flag.  It was a beautiful moment.  They don't care about politics, gay marriage, tax hikes or campaigns; in that moment they paid tribute to service, heroism and sacrifice.  That is what will stay with me today; my children have respect for the meaning, power, emotion and pride that is in the stars and stripes of the American flag.  They might not get the nuiances or understand the ideology to the letter and definition but then again, some politicians clearly do not understand the ideology either. 

Freedom is simple, beautiful and profound, adding in controversy and agenda does not take away from the meaning but often I believe it does take away from what we SEE and believe about this country.  Watching the boys this morning made my heart soar, the words of God Bless America playing in my mind - it was real and honest and true and made me so proud of the boys that I am raising to be men that love this country.

Have a blessed and glorious holiday enjoying the pleasures of our freedom!

-Katie

Things

I was outside enjoying a cool spring morning just a moment ago, one of the rare moments we've experienced in Ohio that hasn't been tainted by rain.  I was thinking about a man I know (under 35) that left his job at the height of his career to wander around Europe, looking for his joy.  As I grumbled about picking up dog poo in our residential and side-walked neighborhood, I had a moment of envy at the ability to walk away from the ties that bind. 

Truth is, most of us CANNOT walk away to find our "joy" because we have become to attached and engulfed and tied by the THINGS in life that consume so much of our joy.  The things that we feel we need, deserve or want are what ties us to the life that we currently lead.  There are some serious spiritual implications here as well - what does it mean in your faith if the things of the world are what you chose to define you?

I have a blackberry, espresso roasted coffee in my coffee maker, a plush (and brand new) sofa that seats us plus another 8, a top of the line mattress, two cars in the garage and organic vegetables in the fridge.  Four laptops, a Wii, netflix and a blue-ray players, a cell phone plan, a cable bill, an Internet bill, a mortgage, two car payments and credit card debt - all attaching me more and more to the THINGS of this world. 

What would it mean to walk away from the things that keep us tied down?  Does being tied down make us more stable or more dependent?  What am I teaching my children about the world by supplying to their every need? 

I could walk away, sell of my things and more than likely, survive.  LOL.  But, how would I be regarded if I were to become a wanderer in search of a more simple life, in search of joy that comes from personal relationships and family, not my things --- what would you think of me? Would you think I was crazy or would part of you wish you could do the same?

This is not me announcing that I am going to become a wandering gypsy, LOL.  I will, however, begin challenging myself to let go of some of the things that serve little real purpose in life.  Challenge the people I know and love to embrace some of the more simple things in life that do not require contracts or cell reception or credit cards.  Two of the happiest people I know live their day to day life with just the basic luxuries, take time to sit at the park to watch the new goslings being escorted around the park and have never had pizza delivered; they are happy without all the ties that bind and I will aspire to be more like them as I grow up. 

Have a great day full of blessings.

Et al

Learned something new today.

How many times have you heard the Crucifixion story? 

Jesus is on the cross, he says "it is finished," he takes his last breath and he dies.

Tetelasti.  That's the Greek word.  It means 'it is done" but in terms of the culture in 1st/2nd century Greece this word would have indicated that a debt was "paid in full."  While it translates to "it is done" or "it is finished" the word was used to confirm a debt had been paid.  Insert profound pause here.  Our Savior, brutally broken, punished, beaten and nailed to the cross said "tetelasti" - you debt has been paid in full.

Also, following the Greek lesson, I learned a new word: kairos.  It means the "right or opportune moment" and when a pastor expounded on that word and it's translation he went on to say it meant "a moment that changed the world"  Jesus's crucifixion and our bill being "paid in full" - what a kairos moment.

I cannot help but think of my Dad at Easter, it was his favorite time of year.  Spring flowers blooming, grapes budding on the vines and the glory of Easter all combined into a glorious celebration in his heart.  The joy of the season comes with still so much "missing" - but the comfort that "paid in full" brings, even my mending heart, is an opportune moment, is a kairos moment to experience all that the story of Jesus can bring. 

It strikes me that the same tug between grief and joy is an essential part of the Easter story.  You cannot experience the joy without the sorrow.  How poetic that I would be emotionally toiling over this during the very season in the church that exemplifies the journey of death into life and life into death. 

I pray that you experience all that Easter has in store, whatever it may be for you.  Prayers lifted for those that cannot experience all of the joy that is there for the taking because of illness, tragedy, grief, depression, addiction, sadness or loneliness.  I am not much on issuing a challenge but if I could, on a personal level, ask you all to say a prayer yourself for someone you know needs it this Easter. 

Redemption, salvation, mercy, grace and peace are all tied to the foot of that cross.  Share with someone that their debt is paid in full.

Remiss

I have yet to log a blog in 2011 - not that I have some sort of cult following or group that follows my every word, but I feel rather remiss that I have yet to do so...until today.

I must admit that the tail end of 2010 and the beginning of 2011 were rather tumultuous in various ways, in my topsy-turvy crazy world I just could not find the time, effort, motivation or desire to sit down and pontificate on the seemingly meaningless drivel I normally come up with.  I was overwhelmed with the life changes that lay ahead, stricken down with grief at the loss of my father and then with the gentleness of a wham-bam-thank-you-ma'am, I found myself facing a relocation to yet another locale where I would be forced to start over for the second time in less than 2 years. 

Whirlwind sounds nice, it was more like a tornado.  Just as I was beginning to emerge out being entombed in grief I was heading at break-neck speed to another big change in the life of our family...it seemed all too fast, it still does.  I feel bruised and battered and I am sure the bags under my eyes do indicate that I have not escaped this journey unscathed.  The myriad of comments that would leave me to believe this include, "gee you look really tired" after I've gotten what I considered a good night's sleep or "having a tough day?" when I finally feel like maybe today is the day I won't cry over missing my Dad.  Most people mean well, so it is best to chalk it all up to just looking like hell and leaving it at that. 

I have complete anonymity here and that is a comfort - there is no chance of running into someone I know at the store, so if I go out looking like I need a nap and a shower and a hot meal - so be it.  I am struggling with finding the motivation to plant roots here in Ohio, but then again, it is too damn cold here to starting digging to plant those roots anyway...LOL. 

The year ahead has so many blessings and opportunities in store and with it comes the challenges as well - but I know this year will allow me the chances to grow in different ways (joined the YMCA, so there better not be any literal growth of me, LOL)  and I am prayerful that with time I will feel like I am home here.  My Dad would tell me to suck it up - so, here's to trying that out!

I do not have any words of inspiration to add to this entry, just more drivel, right? 

I am making myself a promise to get back to blogging - the catharsis of the blog feels akin to the purge of crap we made before we moved here - sometimes it feels better to lighten the load.

Here's to your load being lightened. :)

I think I'd rather eat pumpkin pie than humble pie...

No high points of logic looming in the near future with a medicine-head brain, however, I felt the need to post something.  My lapse in blogging has been part ambivalence, the other parts are a combined effort of every other excuse I can come up with to connote just how messy the last 4 weeks have been. 

I found out yesterday that my Dad is now receiving hospice care so that we can brace everyone for the impending and inevitable demise of my dear old Dad.  Emotions that run the gamut on this one, from paralyzing fear to grief to joy of the life he has lead; ultimately, I have settled on bittersweet.  A life could not have been more lived than his own and to see him deteriorate as he has is not something I would wish on my most despised enemy.  To those that prescribe to the notion that there is dignity in death, I have to argue against you on all fronts.  There is dignity in LIFE.  Death comes to us all and in most cases the process to that glorious end ends up robbing us of all that we were in life.  The eulogy I would want for my Dad will not be a recap of his death but of his life, because that is where the dignity remains.  All this being said, there can be PEACE in death.  He has been endowed with an enviable unceasing faithfulness and belief that God is always in charge, this alone is the truest comfort that a child losing a parent can have.  I have peace because he has peace IN God's plans for him. 


I remain mostly resolute (there's that wishy-washy attitude, LOL) that all God's plans are to bring HIM good and in the moments where that resolute slides into doubtful, there is always something that brings me back to my balance I should have in life.  Usually one of my beautiful and amazing children is the person to bring me back to a humbled groundedness; this morning would be the perfect example:  while driving to school on a cold morning, the sun starts to peek through the clouds and Aden says, "See that Jay, that is the sun.  That is Jesus, the son.  He's coming through the clouds to show us he is there."  Humbled, down to my knees humbled.   Just when I start to think that I've got this all under control, I learn, yet again, that HE is in charge...of me, my Dad, my wonderful kids.  If he gets "it", surely I can too.  Here's hoping.

I have some amazing men in my life, don't I?

Blessings!

Open

I have had the distinct opportunity to have several moments of humility, wonder and amazement in the past two days and in sharing them, I hope you receive the blessings as well.

I have been looking for part-time work here and there to supplement our income enough to cover the school tuition for our boys to attend school and I was found via a website by a woman that wanted a tutor, yesterday was our first session. Humbled moment.  There I was with graduate education and my silver spoon fed upbringing and she taught me something profound in our first session.  Her story laid out a life full of dysfunction (to quote her), multiple moves from school to school while her parents drinking ran rampant and the eventual decision that she would just "drop out" and walk away...in the ninth grade.  Fast forward to over thirty years later and at the age of 50, she decided to go back to school and earn her high school diploma. 

I meet her because she is in her first semester in college (at 52) and she is struggling to write her very first college English composition assignment.  She brings with her the first draft of this assignment that the college sent back with remarks (of course, all remarks are in red) and she is looking forlorn and says "maybe I shouldn't be doing this college thing..."  As she continues to talk and I read through her first assignment I become very conscious of just how damn lucky I am to live the life I do.  Please don't misunderstand, I don't feel pity for her, in fact I am awed by her courage and strength - it is just that there are times when I forget what a privileged life I have led.  As a child it never would have occurred to me to be grateful that my parents made me go to school, do my homework and graduate from high school.  There was no choice, it was a given.  Meeting a woman who's life has been so vastly different from my own and see how determined she is to achieve something I completely took for granted is beyond humbling.  She tells me that she hasn't told anyone she is going to college because she's embarrassed and doesn't think her family would support this venture, again I find myself humbled.  Embarrassed?  She's demure about asking questions because she doesn't want other people to think she's "stupid" and she tells me that she never really learned the basics of writing because she was never at one school long enough to learn anything.  She writes in a style and tone and grammar that is common to her, using vernacular and abbreviations that do not translate well into the formality of an English composition and she has confused looks when we talk about outlines and a thesis statement.  By the end of the hour we've used up pages of paper getting her ideas out and the first paragraph of her paper is written.  She looks proud and gets her checkbook out to pay me for our session.  This is why I don't ever make money on side jobs - how could I let her pay when I have learned so much from her?  Lesson for me for the day: a good dose of humility does you good!

Wonder.  I spend everyday with my boys and there are days, as any stay at home Mom knows, where I am spent by 3 pm.  It is very easy to get caught up in the errands, housework, meals, homework, soccer and such and completely forget to take just a moment to ENJOY the time I have at home with them.  Over the course of the last four months we have been having our share of challenges with our oldest son, whether it be telling lies or temper tantrums, it has been a daily battle of wills and test of patience.  So, this coupled with the day to day goings on and the fact that "Dad" has been gone for six weeks - I have been frazzled even more than usual and even less likely to sit down and ENJOY a moment.  This morning Aden woke around 5:30 and climbed in bed to snuggle with me and it was a welcome surprise because he has started that process of shunning the "baby things" and becoming "big".  I got up around 6 and he followed me into the kitchen to make the coffee and said, "Mom, when I get big, I am going to miss you."

I look at him and wonder what he's thinking that provoked this thought and I think of what we've been through for the past four months and I have the opportunity to take my 65 pound baby into my arms and hug him as tight as I could, and I do.  He lays his head on my shoulder and I am astounded at the love in his heart and the love that I feel for him as my child.  The boundless capacity of our hearts to love is still a wonderment.  The unconditional love that exists in my heart for these two little boys continues to be a wonderment.  On that same token, the love my parents and my God feel for me...a wonderment, particularly with how rotten, rude, mean, impatient, unkind and horrible I can be.  Real wonder at why and how God created a heart to love like that and yet we still have such hatred in the world?  That's a wonder.

Amazement.  I was listening to the radio, as always do, on the way back from school drop off and the "radio personalities" were talking with a listener about their "WOW God" moment.  This man called into the radio station to share and witness, and to paraphrase, here's his story:
I was having a tough time, a really tough time and I had lost my way.  I was not going to church, I was blaming God for all that had gone wrong in my life and I had gotten to end and decided that it just wasn't worth it anymore.  I got my gun, loaded it and walked down to the riverside in town and knew that this was the end.  I was sitting there with the gun in my hand and asking God why he had abandoned me. It was in that moment that I heard something behind me and I looked up and I saw a man coming down over the rocks, walking straight toward me.  I recognized him, it was a man I had known for a long time.  He came up to me and said, "Son - I was taking a nap at home and God woke me up and told me to get down to the river immediately! And now I know why."  He took me home to his house, ministered to me for three days and it was then that I found my way back to God.  He saved my life in that moment - God used him to save my life.  Had he come a few minutes later it would have been too late.  God used him to save me.

The story concluded and the next song played, here's the lyrics:

Teach me to number my days

And count every moment before it slips away
Taking all the colors before they fade to gray
I don't want to miss even just a second more of this

It happens in a blink
It happens in a flash
It happens in the time it took to look back
I try to hold on tight, but there's no stopping time
What is it I've done with my life
It happens in a blink

When it's all said and done
No one remembers how far we have run
The only thing that matters is how we have loved
I don't want to miss even just a second more of this

It happens in a blink
it happens in a flash
it happens in the time it took to look back
I try to hold on tight but there's no stopping time
What is it I've done with my life
It happens in a blink

Slow down, slow down
Before today becomes our yesterday
Slow down, slow down
Before you turn around and it's too late

It happens in a blink
it happens in a flash
it happens in the time it took to look back
I try to hold on tight but there's no stopping time
What is it I've done with my life
It happens in a blink

Amazed.  Truly amazed at what God can do to save us, save me, reach me, teach me.

Have a blessed day!

Bare

Do you ever feel like you don't measure up?  Lately I feel like I'm drowning in things that I just don't seem to get done and it leaves me feeling rather much like a mess.  I forget the details, get lost in a task and am so easily distracted that I don't remember where my car is in the parking lot.  The laundry piles up, the floor needs to be mopped and the kids won't stop fighting long enough for us to even share a meal.  The insomnia is making me befuddled all day long and yet there is always another task to do, meeting to attend, chore to complete, dinner to make, boo-boo to kiss, bedtime story to read...

Weary.  Very weary. 

My Dad is dying.  My husband is training for a new job and has 4 more weeks until he comes home.  New job means distinct possibility of relocation.  Moving again?  Moving boxes, packing up, purging before we pack, leaving our life here behind, having to start over.  My son is grieving for a loss and another one is coming.  My baby (okay, he's 3, but yes, he's my baby) is struggling to catch up for 2 years worth of speech development to the tune of $432.00 a week.  We're paying two mortgages, doctor bills, car payment, tuition while committing to our tithe and still needing to eat. 

Weary.  Very weary.

To lay it all out there like this is akin to that dream where you're giving a speech in front of a room full of people and you suddenly realize that you're naked.  Bare.  But, maybe one person will read this and know they are not alone, that there is another person out there that can relate. 

Now, stop and think about what it must be for God to see his children (millions of us) struggling along in life.  How is heart must break to see us distance ourselves, proclaiming independence when all he wants from us is to crawl up in his arms and GIVE IN. As hard as it is to get through this for me, there are people out there who have tragedy, sickness, death, sadness, depression...my only hope I can consistently cling to is that God is there.  Even when I don't feel it, he is there.  God can't come down and hand me money to pay my bills or fold my laundry but he did give me skills that are more than sufficient to take care of myself.  I am mired in a pit, consumed by the tasks at hand, over committed and overwhelmed because of the choices that I made.  But, he is still there.  That still small voice urging me on and asking me to believe that he does really love me.

Weary.  Very weary. But, there is a light that cannot be darkened, a love that can not be taken away, a life to live that walks with Him right beside me.  I will get there.

My heart was breaking listening to the story on the radio - 45% of people surveyed by researchers out of Baylor University are said to describe God as "distant" or "critical", had I been reading this in person rather than listening to the radio there would have been tears wetting the newsprint pages.  While my father lays dying of a disease that we cannot cure there are people out in this world that would have you believe that God "did it" to him...I pray for the souls of those that see God in this light.  It pains me so to see my children growing up in a "god-less" world.  Whomever you pray to - whether it be a Christian, Islamic, Judaic or Hindu deity is not the point in this matter, the point is - why on Earth would you embrace a God that is critical or distant?  I am puzzled at the type of person that would have ties to a deity that was helmed by a critical or distant being? 

Christ is in all that I do.  He (thankfully and mercifully) is not critical or distant in any moment....do I distance myself or place critical judgements on my actions, behaviors and thoughts?  Of course I do, but it certainly isn't my God and Savior that is placing those barriers to salvation and redemption in my path.  I do that because I do lose sight of how mighty, powerful and amazing my God can be if I am courageous enough to trust in Him alone. 

Would you trust or love or fall humbled upon the feet of a distant or critical God?  Yes, we are judged.  But the forgiveness is mightier than any of our faults.  He has already died for me on that cross over 2000 years ago.  My sin has been paid.

I am praying for our country to feel the LOVE and GRACE of God.  We need to be sharing our message and showing the love of our God in who we are, in what we say and in what we do.  I am raising my children in a home that teaches them to honor and praise God in all that they do...perhaps we have come into a time in our culture where faith and steadfast commitment to a value or belief are counter cultural - however, that won't change how I will teach my children to respond to God, to their family, to each other, to friends, to strangers...

This makes me weary...

The Quran among other things

I would like to sit down with the "Pastor" of this church in Gainesville and look him in the eyes as he tells me that burning a Holy book on the anniversary date of Sept. 11, a day where we fell prey to the hate of fanatical and suicidal madmen operating under the guise of "religion", is not a message of hate. 

The story goes on to outline the propaganda on their website, claiming that Christians should return to the truth and stop hiding.  I would ask him what truth he is confronting with this message that is "not a message of hate."  It certainly isn't "love your neighbor as yourself"  or "forgive 70 times 7" or "turn the other cheek" and most assuredly it is NOT "love your enemies."  I am not in hiding.  I speak the truth of my own God and my own Savior and that is the truth. 

Interpreting scripture or verse of any Holy book to fit into your own agenda or to propagate your own causes in any faith is a perversion of that faith - their credo, their ideology, their theology, who they are and what they stand for is all in jeopardy when a person espouses their beliefs to be "truth" while neglecting the real truth of their particular Holy book.

So, in essence, I think that this incendiary and controversial action on behalf of this so-called church has it's very roots in the same ignorant-minded fanatical and perverse notion of "faith" that brought about that fateful day in our nation's history.

Why is it that the loudest and most vitriolic voices get heard when it comes to faith?!  Every faith base has in their tenets the concept of peace.  Tenets of Islam, read them Pastor Jones - outline a faith that is much like my own...and according to this man, his as well.  However, I believe he got lost somewhere in HIS quest to make a statement.  Very lost.  Very, very, very lost. 

So, to Pastor Jones of Gainesville, Florida - like the parable of the Shepherd and his Sheep, Jesus will come looking for you as you have strayed - strayed far...he is forgiving.  However, the people that you "know" you will offend with these actions may not - and it will be your own doing, for you have taught "them" all a lesson in "Christian" truth that was not HIS truth but YOURS. 

Pastor Jones, you fail.

Thank God he loves you anyway.  Can't say I have the capacity to do the same...that's why He is God and I am not.

Don't give it a second thought

The only thing you'll ever be able to completely depend upon is the love of God and his mercy that endures always.  I learn over and over and over that my trust in people, things, places, etc is misguided in the smallest and most mundane of cirumstances as well as the most dire...

If you have a thought in your heart about something, dollars to doughnuts it's there because someone bigger and smarter than any of us is putting that doubt in your heart - don't even give it a second thought.  Fear is not doubt - doubt is looking dubiously at a situation that requires more than just a glance and listening to that still small voice. 

To me, that still small voice is implanted deeply in our souls and does guide us to know, believe, say, do and act upon what is in our best interest.  Have you listened to your still small voice today?

Blessings.