Today marks 4 years and 4 months since you left us - 52 months, 224 weeks, 1,580 days. In terms of Eternity, it is just a drop in the bucket of time. Most days, it seems like a lifetime ago. In many ways, it was. Life is different in so many ways now. Memories are marked by what happened while you were still alive and what has happened since you left.
And there are so many memories. Some are the huge, life- changing ones - weddings, births, anniversaries, birthdays, and holidays; but most of them are the little things. The hundred little things and more. Those moments in time, that make up a day, a week, a month, a year. The hundred little things and more that don't really seem to matter at the time because you take for granted that there will be a hundred more. And then, one day, there are no more - the memories, the hundred little things, are all that are left.
At first, every single one of them hurt. A hundred little things and more that could bring me to tears, in mere seconds. Tears that would last for hours or sometimes days. They hurt so much, cut so deep, that sometimes I could hardly breath. While I found it impossible to believe all those memories would ever become more than a reminder of what I didn't have anymore, the painful recollection of what I'd lost, the fact that you were no longer here, in time, they did. Slowly, ever so slowly, some days, when one of those hundred little things would come to mind, they would bring a smile.
They became a connection between what was, what is, and what is yet to come. They became a reminder of the past, yet at the same time, a bridge to the future. They became a source of joy and hope. (And, yes, at times, they still brought tears. Sometimes, the tears were still torrential, but more times than not, they were short- lived). They made me grateful - grateful for what we had, the life we built together, the children we had and the men they had become, and the future ahead. They made me more aware - more aware of the hundred little things and more that make up my days, weeks, and months now that will also become a part of who I am. They made me stronger because I know I can go through dark days and still come out the other side. They made me acknowledge the pain and struggles in others and understand in a much deeper way. They made me so much more attuned to both the beauty and the pain that is all around.
But most of all? They enabled me to see the Grace and Love that God surrounded me with. I always knew it was there, but it was not until it was all that was there, that I truly appreciated the depth and the magnitude of His love and grace. I never saw how He covered me with them in a hundred little ways. Not until I was able to see myself through the filter of this unending love and undeserved grace, was I able to extend them to myself and others.
So, thank you. Thank you for the life you lived. Thank you for the many gifts you left behind, for the hundred little things and more that are always in my heart and in my mind and will forever be a part of who I am. Thank you for the hundred little things and more that let me know you are never far. Thank you for loving the person that I was and helping me become the person I am now. Thank you for the sons you gave me and the father you were to them. Thank you for being here for us, then and now, in a hundred little ways and more.
Thursday, May 25, 2017
Sunday, May 14, 2017
To my Sons on Mother's Day
May 14, 2017
I blinked and one of you were not here for the first time ever on Mother's Day, gone away to college. While I was extremely proud of your choice, I missed you terribly.
Dear Sons,
This is the 32nd year I have celebrated Mother's Day as a Mom. In the quiet of the morning I am remembering past Mother's Days and smiling. I remember the many breakfasts in bed, me lying there, pretending to still be asleep, while you both and your Dad banged and clanged dishes and pots and pans. I remember the smells of bacon frying and coffee brewing. I remember the trays of food brought to me in bed that always held at least one flower from the garden.
I remember homemade cards on construction paper with little hand prints, stickers, wildly colored flowers, and such heartfelt love. It seemed like the blink of an eye and those homemade cards on the breakfast tray gave way to beautiful purchased cards that you knew would still make me cry. (I know, I know - it is not hard to make me cry.)
I remember the marigolds planted in Dixie Cups, the homemade heart magnets, and all the other treasures you have made for me throughout the years.
Then, I blinked and you were both men, both taller than me, both wearing shoes bigger than your Dad's - not my little boys anymore. Each with your own distinct personalities and your own unique wisdom.
Then, I blinked and you were both men, both taller than me, both wearing shoes bigger than your Dad's - not my little boys anymore. Each with your own distinct personalities and your own unique wisdom.
I blinked and one of you were not here for the first time ever on Mother's Day, gone away to college. While I was extremely proud of your choice, I missed you terribly.
I blinked again and the other one of you was not here for the first time ever on Mother's Day, gone overseas to serve our country. I was also extremely proud of your choice, but I missed you terribly.
Part of me misses those Mother's Days when you were both were so very young and home was your whole world. Part of me misses those days when construction paper cards, breakfasts in bed, and a daffodil picked from the yard were given with such pride and love. I miss those days when you were both small enough to fit in my lap and a kiss and a glass of Koolaid would fix just about anything. I will forever cherish those days. Sometimes, they seem like only yesterday. Some days, it seems like a million years ago.
We've walked some tough roads since those days. We've had some very hard days, months,and even years. Some were consequences of our own choices. Others were paths we never would have chosen, if we had been given the choice. Through it all, the ups and downs, the good and the hard, the joy and the pain, the chosen and the unchosen, there were things that remained constant.
We were always there for each other, through the laughter and the pain, one giving strength when the others were weak. We always knew God was with us, and that He did indeed have a plan, even in what seemed like the darkest of days.
I think most Moms (and Dads) have doubts about their parenting, if they are honest with themselves. Did they do the right things? Did they do enough of the right things to negate the not right things? Were they available enough? Were they strict enough? Were they too strict? I have had all those doubts and many more, but what I can say without any doubt, is that I have loved you both since the very moment I knew you were coming. I have loved you with a love that is strong and fierce and protective and unconditional. I am so proud of the men you have become. You are both faithful, kind, compassionate, loving men. The world needs more men like you two.
I am so thankful, proud, and yet so humble that God entrusted me to be your Mom. You both are the reason I get to celebrate this day.
To the moon and back.....
Love,
Mom
Part of me misses those Mother's Days when you were both were so very young and home was your whole world. Part of me misses those days when construction paper cards, breakfasts in bed, and a daffodil picked from the yard were given with such pride and love. I miss those days when you were both small enough to fit in my lap and a kiss and a glass of Koolaid would fix just about anything. I will forever cherish those days. Sometimes, they seem like only yesterday. Some days, it seems like a million years ago.
We've walked some tough roads since those days. We've had some very hard days, months,and even years. Some were consequences of our own choices. Others were paths we never would have chosen, if we had been given the choice. Through it all, the ups and downs, the good and the hard, the joy and the pain, the chosen and the unchosen, there were things that remained constant.
We were always there for each other, through the laughter and the pain, one giving strength when the others were weak. We always knew God was with us, and that He did indeed have a plan, even in what seemed like the darkest of days.
I think most Moms (and Dads) have doubts about their parenting, if they are honest with themselves. Did they do the right things? Did they do enough of the right things to negate the not right things? Were they available enough? Were they strict enough? Were they too strict? I have had all those doubts and many more, but what I can say without any doubt, is that I have loved you both since the very moment I knew you were coming. I have loved you with a love that is strong and fierce and protective and unconditional. I am so proud of the men you have become. You are both faithful, kind, compassionate, loving men. The world needs more men like you two.
I am so thankful, proud, and yet so humble that God entrusted me to be your Mom. You both are the reason I get to celebrate this day.
To the moon and back.....
Love,
Mom
Monday, June 22, 2015
Lessons from a Mourning Dove
April 17, 2015
Dedicated to my dear, sweet friend, Joy
One of my husband and my favorite ways to relax in Michigan's short, but beautiful spring and summer seasons was to sit out on our back patio (one of my favorite places in the whole world) and watch the birds our feeders attracted. While this may sound boring to some more adventurous people, we shared our hearts and many long conversations over coffee or iced tea out there. There were times we didn't talk at all, but shared the comfortable silence that couples develop after many years of marriage, just soaking in the sounds and beauty God has surrounded us with.
I cherish those days and the memories they hold. This will be the third summer I have sat on the patio, watching the birds alone. My husband of 30 years passed away quit unexpectedly in January of 2013. I can often feel his presence still right beside me. But this is a tale of hope and anticipation, not one of sadness.
Our feeders don't attract any exotic birds - mostly tiny Sparrows and chubby Robins with an occasional bullying Blue Jay or colorful Cardinal.
We had a pair of Mourning Doves that seemed to frequent our little spot of Paradise behind the house. I had read somewhere that Mourning Doves mated for life and that if you ever saw a lone Mourning Dove, it's mate was probably either missing or dead. And inevitably, when we saw only one Dove, the other would soon arrive. They would feed off the seeds that had dropped to the ground and fly off, frequently to perch together on the power lines crossing over the back of the yard. We never saw babies, just the pair of them.
And that first spring and summer of my widowhood? It was hard, so very hard. The trees budded, the
perennials sprouted, the grass greened, the birds returned. And I did the things I had always done- planted flowers and the vegetable garden, sat outside and read, had my coffee out on the patio - mostly because it was what I had always done and I didn't know what else to do. I also took over the chores my husband had always taken care of- fertilizing the lawn mowing, trimming the shrubs. In retrospect, it was my way of trying to keep some control and normalcy in what had become a very different life. It was also my way of trying to show our sons that I was ok and they didn't need to worry about me. I would be fine. But it felt different. I didn't derive the peace and tranquility
from these things that I had in the past. I was simply going through the motions. It was almost like my body and spirit were disconnected. But I kept on doing the motions. Mostly because I had to- one foot in front of the other, one step at a time, one day, sometimes one hour at a time.
And the doves? Only one returned that first year. At first, it made me sad and seemed to echo my loneliness. I soon started looking for the dove whenever I came out. I watched it feed underneath
the feeders. I watched it fly off whenever my dogs decided to chased it away, only to perch peacefully
on one of the wires. I listened to it coo, perched high up in a tree. I heard the graceful fluttering of its wings. I watched it do what God had created it to do- carry on, keep doing what it needed to do to survive. I even felt like it was, at times, watching over me.
I began to see my one lone dove and it's peaceful cooing as a sign, a gift if you will, from God. A gift that had special significance to only me.
"You may be feeling lonely, but you are not alone. I am here- just look around, " God spoke to me through that dove.
"You are doing just fine, in fact much better than you think", God whispered to me.
"You are so much braver than you feel", God quietly reminded me, "You can do all things through
My Son."
"You are doing exactly what you need to be doing," God encouraged me, "you just need to move
through this at the pace I have set for"
"You are going to be fine, even though it doesn't feel like it now, " God reassured me through that dove.
And three summers later, I sit in my backyard and I am not lonely. I am so much braver. I am moving at a slower pace, and most days I am just fine.
And my lone dove? It has come back every year. In fact, I think it is around more now than in the past. And it continues to soar, gracefully, from tree to wire to feeder and back again, cooing peacefully, just as God created it to do.
"Fear not, for I have redeemed you;
I have summoned you by name; you are mine.
When you pass through the waters,
I will be with you;
and when you pass through the rivers,
they will not sweep over you.
When you walk through the fire,
you will not be burned;
the flames will not set you ablaze.
For I am The Lord, your God,
The Holy One of Israel, your Savior;
I give Egypt for your ransom, Cush and Seba in your stead.
Since you are precious and honored in my sight,
and because I love you,
I will give men in exchange for you,
and people in exchange for your life."
Isaiah 43:1-4
If you are walking through the sweeping river or the burning blaze today, or if you find yourself there tomorrow, know whatever it is you are going through, YOU ARE NOT ALONE. Look for Him. God is right there with you. Your feet may get wet, your shoes may get singed, but you will not be swept away or set ablaze. He wants to show you His mighty power and incomprehensible love and unsurpassing grace. Although the path may be long, He will set your feet on dry, unparched ground again. Because you are precious and honored in His sight and He loves you.
Dedicated to my dear, sweet friend, Joy
One of my husband and my favorite ways to relax in Michigan's short, but beautiful spring and summer seasons was to sit out on our back patio (one of my favorite places in the whole world) and watch the birds our feeders attracted. While this may sound boring to some more adventurous people, we shared our hearts and many long conversations over coffee or iced tea out there. There were times we didn't talk at all, but shared the comfortable silence that couples develop after many years of marriage, just soaking in the sounds and beauty God has surrounded us with.
I cherish those days and the memories they hold. This will be the third summer I have sat on the patio, watching the birds alone. My husband of 30 years passed away quit unexpectedly in January of 2013. I can often feel his presence still right beside me. But this is a tale of hope and anticipation, not one of sadness.
Our feeders don't attract any exotic birds - mostly tiny Sparrows and chubby Robins with an occasional bullying Blue Jay or colorful Cardinal.
We had a pair of Mourning Doves that seemed to frequent our little spot of Paradise behind the house. I had read somewhere that Mourning Doves mated for life and that if you ever saw a lone Mourning Dove, it's mate was probably either missing or dead. And inevitably, when we saw only one Dove, the other would soon arrive. They would feed off the seeds that had dropped to the ground and fly off, frequently to perch together on the power lines crossing over the back of the yard. We never saw babies, just the pair of them.
And that first spring and summer of my widowhood? It was hard, so very hard. The trees budded, the
perennials sprouted, the grass greened, the birds returned. And I did the things I had always done- planted flowers and the vegetable garden, sat outside and read, had my coffee out on the patio - mostly because it was what I had always done and I didn't know what else to do. I also took over the chores my husband had always taken care of- fertilizing the lawn mowing, trimming the shrubs. In retrospect, it was my way of trying to keep some control and normalcy in what had become a very different life. It was also my way of trying to show our sons that I was ok and they didn't need to worry about me. I would be fine. But it felt different. I didn't derive the peace and tranquility
from these things that I had in the past. I was simply going through the motions. It was almost like my body and spirit were disconnected. But I kept on doing the motions. Mostly because I had to- one foot in front of the other, one step at a time, one day, sometimes one hour at a time.
And the doves? Only one returned that first year. At first, it made me sad and seemed to echo my loneliness. I soon started looking for the dove whenever I came out. I watched it feed underneath
the feeders. I watched it fly off whenever my dogs decided to chased it away, only to perch peacefully
on one of the wires. I listened to it coo, perched high up in a tree. I heard the graceful fluttering of its wings. I watched it do what God had created it to do- carry on, keep doing what it needed to do to survive. I even felt like it was, at times, watching over me.
I began to see my one lone dove and it's peaceful cooing as a sign, a gift if you will, from God. A gift that had special significance to only me.
"You may be feeling lonely, but you are not alone. I am here- just look around, " God spoke to me through that dove.
"You are doing just fine, in fact much better than you think", God whispered to me.
"You are so much braver than you feel", God quietly reminded me, "You can do all things through
My Son."
"You are doing exactly what you need to be doing," God encouraged me, "you just need to move
through this at the pace I have set for"
"You are going to be fine, even though it doesn't feel like it now, " God reassured me through that dove.
And three summers later, I sit in my backyard and I am not lonely. I am so much braver. I am moving at a slower pace, and most days I am just fine.
And my lone dove? It has come back every year. In fact, I think it is around more now than in the past. And it continues to soar, gracefully, from tree to wire to feeder and back again, cooing peacefully, just as God created it to do.
"Fear not, for I have redeemed you;
I have summoned you by name; you are mine.
When you pass through the waters,
I will be with you;
and when you pass through the rivers,
they will not sweep over you.
When you walk through the fire,
you will not be burned;
the flames will not set you ablaze.
For I am The Lord, your God,
The Holy One of Israel, your Savior;
I give Egypt for your ransom, Cush and Seba in your stead.
Since you are precious and honored in my sight,
and because I love you,
I will give men in exchange for you,
and people in exchange for your life."
Isaiah 43:1-4
If you are walking through the sweeping river or the burning blaze today, or if you find yourself there tomorrow, know whatever it is you are going through, YOU ARE NOT ALONE. Look for Him. God is right there with you. Your feet may get wet, your shoes may get singed, but you will not be swept away or set ablaze. He wants to show you His mighty power and incomprehensible love and unsurpassing grace. Although the path may be long, He will set your feet on dry, unparched ground again. Because you are precious and honored in His sight and He loves you.
Saturday, November 22, 2014
The Thing About Grief
Sometimes you know the loss is coming, sometimes you don't. Either way, you are never prepared. You can never be prepared. Not prepared for the shock. Not prepared for the deep void. Not prepared for the pain unlike any other you have ever known. Not prepared for the duration. Not prepared, when you think you are finally better, for it to slam into you again.
Early on, I remember someone saying something to me about the next year and my response was, "oh, I hope this doesn't take a year." Almost 2 years later, some days the pain is still so fresh and debilitating, it feels like it was only yesterday. A memory crops up, seemingly out of nowhere and it feels like a scab being ripped off- still so raw and fresh.
What I've learned along the way:
There is no time limit on grief. There is no right way to grieve. There are no words that make it better. There is nothing you can do for me. There is nothing I can do for myself. The grief comes in waves, with no warning. Sometimes it comes after a long calm, it hits quickly and is gone; sometimes it pounds into you like a tsunami- relentlessly, over and over with no break in sight. And you just have to ride out. There will be good days and bad days. Embrace the good days and ride out the bad ones.
And it's ok. It's all ok. It doesn't mean you are weak. It doesn't mean your faith is lacking. It doesn't mean you are stuck. It means you are human. It means you have loved. It means you have suffered loss. And it means you are healing. In exactly the way that is right for you. Give yourself grace and time.
Everyone's journey of grief is unique. Listen to your heart, listen to your spirit, and listen to your body. If you need to cry, cry. If you need to rest, rest. If you need to be alone, be alone. If you need to be with people, be with people. And listen for what God's Spirit is telling you. Because He is with you - in the middle of your pain and your grief, He is there. He sees you. He knows your pain. And He holds you in the palm of His hand through every second of your journey.
Early on, I remember someone saying something to me about the next year and my response was, "oh, I hope this doesn't take a year." Almost 2 years later, some days the pain is still so fresh and debilitating, it feels like it was only yesterday. A memory crops up, seemingly out of nowhere and it feels like a scab being ripped off- still so raw and fresh.
What I've learned along the way:
There is no time limit on grief. There is no right way to grieve. There are no words that make it better. There is nothing you can do for me. There is nothing I can do for myself. The grief comes in waves, with no warning. Sometimes it comes after a long calm, it hits quickly and is gone; sometimes it pounds into you like a tsunami- relentlessly, over and over with no break in sight. And you just have to ride out. There will be good days and bad days. Embrace the good days and ride out the bad ones.
And it's ok. It's all ok. It doesn't mean you are weak. It doesn't mean your faith is lacking. It doesn't mean you are stuck. It means you are human. It means you have loved. It means you have suffered loss. And it means you are healing. In exactly the way that is right for you. Give yourself grace and time.
Everyone's journey of grief is unique. Listen to your heart, listen to your spirit, and listen to your body. If you need to cry, cry. If you need to rest, rest. If you need to be alone, be alone. If you need to be with people, be with people. And listen for what God's Spirit is telling you. Because He is with you - in the middle of your pain and your grief, He is there. He sees you. He knows your pain. And He holds you in the palm of His hand through every second of your journey.
Monday, September 1, 2014
Missing You
It's been almost a year and a half – seventy eight weeks – five hundred and forty seven days-since you left
Somehow I didn't think it would still be this hard
I didn't think the ache would still feel so fresh
I didn't think the memories would still assault so unexpectedly
I didn't think the wound would still feel so raw
I talked a lot about getting used to the “new normal” in the beginning
As the “new” normal became the normal, I thought it would just be easier
I didn't think I would still hear your voice at unexpected times
I didn't think I would still miss the little things so much
I didn't think the tears would still appear so frequently
I thought the one year mark held some kind of magic healing power
We had endured all the firsts without you so surely the next round would be easier
Your absence is still so obvious
Your laughter is still so missed
You've left a hole no one will ever be able to fill
And, yes, we're moving ahead
Changes have been made
Life goes on
But it goes on without you
And it will never be the same
Healing comes slowly, painfully
The journey of life continues
The good, the bad, the celebrated, the mourned
The sun still rises and the moon still shines
The stars come out and the rain comes down
And through it all,
God whispers gently, “I'm still here,
I see your tears and I've caught them all,
I see your pain and you are not alone
Come to me, my child, and I will give you peace
I will give you rest”
Sunday, August 10, 2014
What Doesn't Kill You....
What Doesn't Kill You......
“What doesn't kill you makes you stronger
Doesn't mean I'm lonely when I'm alone”
I don't think Kelly Clarkson meant this song to be spiritual in nature, but it is was for me. This used to be my mantra, my anthem: I am strong, I am capable, I am together! But then the unimaginable happened and suddenly I wasn't.
I have lived through the unlivable. I
survived what I never thought I could. And I was not strong. I was
scared, I felt alone, I was lonely, I was downright panicked. I was
nearly swallowed by the darkness and the hopelessness. But I
survived. I am surviving. And not on my own. There was a Power at
work in me that I acknowledged, but didn't understand. There was a
Power in me that was pulling for me when I wanted to give in and give
up. God's Spirit was in me saying, “You'll get through this.
You are going to make it. You don't have to know how and you don't
have to figure it all out. All you have to do is trust. But you will
need help. Accept My help.”
Help has never been easy for me to accept. Needing help on any level is a sign of weakness. And weakness is a bad thing, or so I always thought. Weakness opens you up – it opens up the cracks for others to get in, to see inside, to see the mess that is really me in spite of what I pretend. And that mess is not pretty – it is petty, it is scared, it is doubtful, it is selfish, it is greedy, it is even bitter and unforgiving and angry sometimes-no, a lot of the time, it feels entitled, and it is very prideful. It is human. And it wants to be loved and if all that ugliness that is the mess of me is known to you, then you may not love me.
And if you don't love me, that means I am no good – right? I am not worthy of love if you know all the mess inside. So I will put up the facade – the “I have it all together” attitude, the “Yes, I am fine” face, the “I can handle this all on my own” pose, the “I've got this” stance. And then the unthinkable happens and all those shields crumble, they shatter into tiny pieces all around you and land at your feet and you are left defenseless, visible to for all to see who you really are – actually who you really are not. You are not strong, you don't have it all together, you totally do not have this – whatever this is for you.
For
me, it was my husband dying. For you it might be death of a loved
one, but it might not. It might be a diagnosis you didn't want. It
might be a financial crisis you can't see a way through. It might be
a prodigal son or daughter. It might be a job loss, or a move, or a
hurtful word or betrayal from someone you thought trustworthy. It
might be any one of a million things that just destroys and crumbles
the tidy little life you have set up and all the shields and fences
you put up around you to keep the mess in. And suddenly, the mess is
no longer contained, but out there. You have become the mess you
have fought so hard to hide deep inside. And you are ashamed. You
are ashamed you are not strong, you are ashamed you aren't together,
you are ashamed you DO NOT HAVE THIS.
But
slowly, very slowly, over time, you are able to see just a tiny bit
around the mess, through the mess, a little glance above the mess, a
tiny glimpse past the mess, And there are people still there. And
God is still there. You have not been left alone in your mess. You
never were. And you still are not strong, you still are not
together, you still don't have this. But there are still people
there, and more importantly, God is still there. He knows your mess,
all of it – He always has. And yet, He is still there – He
always was.
You
begin to see the pale pinks and purples of the sunrise, you begin to
hear the birds sing again, you begin to feel the ground beneath your
feet. And you realize it was there all along. You put one foot in
front of the other when that was all you could manage, and suddenly
you feel like you might again, one day, dance or skip or even run.
You find small pleasure in things you thought you never would again.
The fog begins to lift just a bit and the sun is still there – it
shines through, gently and warmly. You begin to feel the raindrops
instead of the storm. And through it all, people are still there.
Through it all, God is still there. Your mess-your brokenness, your
flaws, your tears and your wailings, your doubts and your fears? Your
mess did not scare God off. He didn't turn His back on you. He held
you in the palm of His hand and patiently waited for you to notice.
He waited for you to notice that HE
is strong, that HE has
it all together, that HE has
got this for you – whatever “it” is.
No,
what doesn't kill you doesn't make you stronger – it makes you
weaker. Yes, weakness opens you up. And maybe that was what it was
intended to do all along.
But he said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me. II Corinthians 12:9
Tuesday, May 27, 2014
Fathers and Daughters
May 27, 2014
Since the beginning of families, since Adam and Eve, there has been dysfunction. There has been hurt and jealousy and rivalry and downright ugliness. This is not a new thing- not to my generation, whose fathers' were strict and not very hands-on;, not to my mother's generation, whose fathers' worked from dawn until dusk; and not in my children's generation, whose fathers' tend to be more hands on but sometimes more in touch with their electronic connections than their human ones.
As women, our fathers shape so much of our identity. They shape how we see ourselves and how we see the men in our lives and how we filter our relationships with other women. They shape how we expect to be treated and how we expect to be loved. Don't feel like you could ever do enough to earn your father's love as a child? Then you probably don't feel like you really deserve to be loved as a grown woman. Never really felt like you lived up to your father's expectations? Then you probably won't live up to anyone else's expectations, including your own. Father not present in your life, either physically or emotionally? Then you probably don't deserve to have someone present in your life now. These are the lies that we have told ourselves over and over until they have become our unconscious truths.
It seems many of the women of my generation ( I am the tail end of the baby boomers), shared the same experiences growing up -our fathers were hard-working, strict disciplinarians, conservative, critical, and emotionally distant. Or as my teenage self viewed it- the epitome of the "establishment".
Many of us live our lives never realizing that how we processed our father's actions when we were young continue to impact how we process (and react to) the relationships in our lives when we are grown. Ever wonder why you turn right back into that rebellious teenager when around your father (or other male authority figures)? Ever wonder why, as a grown woman, you cannot relate to your father on a "grown-up" level? I have. And it has made me question myself-"what is wrong with me that I can't just get over this? Why do other women not seem to struggle with the need for approval and the need to be accepted from their fathers when I still do so many years after it should have ceased to matter? Am I the only person who still struggles with this?"
I don't think so. All we have to do is look at the divorce statistics in our society today (both in and out of the Church), the number of children being raised either fatherless or with multiple father figures who pass in and out of their lives, and society's attitude toward marriage in general, to see many of us have not "gotten past" this and have not learned to handle our relationships in a healthy, Godly manner.
We no longer have to prove ourselves, we no longer have to fight for the love and approval we so desperately long for, we no longer have to fight at all! When Christ died on the cross, He said, "It is finished." (John 19:30) Our fights for approval, our strivings to please, our desperation for love? "It is finished."
God told His children, the Israelites , "Since you are precious and honored in my sight, and because I love you, I will give people in exchange for you, nations in exchange for your life." (Isaiah 43:4) The nation of Israel were His chosen people, the people He promised all the world would be blessed through. And they were precious and honored in His sight and He loved them enough to give nations in exchange for them, to make sure they were safe and provided for. If you are in Christ, you are now one of His chosen people and He loves you, you are precious and honored in His sight. He will give nations in exchange for you. He loves you that much! The God of the Universe is willing to do anything for you! And He did - He gave up what He loved the most - He gave His Son for you.
And all that stuff we didn't get growing up? We now have it all in abundance, more than we ever could have imagined - we are precious and honored and loved!
Since the beginning of families, since Adam and Eve, there has been dysfunction. There has been hurt and jealousy and rivalry and downright ugliness. This is not a new thing- not to my generation, whose fathers' were strict and not very hands-on;, not to my mother's generation, whose fathers' worked from dawn until dusk; and not in my children's generation, whose fathers' tend to be more hands on but sometimes more in touch with their electronic connections than their human ones.
As women, our fathers shape so much of our identity. They shape how we see ourselves and how we see the men in our lives and how we filter our relationships with other women. They shape how we expect to be treated and how we expect to be loved. Don't feel like you could ever do enough to earn your father's love as a child? Then you probably don't feel like you really deserve to be loved as a grown woman. Never really felt like you lived up to your father's expectations? Then you probably won't live up to anyone else's expectations, including your own. Father not present in your life, either physically or emotionally? Then you probably don't deserve to have someone present in your life now. These are the lies that we have told ourselves over and over until they have become our unconscious truths.
It seems many of the women of my generation ( I am the tail end of the baby boomers), shared the same experiences growing up -our fathers were hard-working, strict disciplinarians, conservative, critical, and emotionally distant. Or as my teenage self viewed it- the epitome of the "establishment".
I don't think so. All we have to do is look at the divorce statistics in our society today (both in and out of the Church), the number of children being raised either fatherless or with multiple father figures who pass in and out of their lives, and society's attitude toward marriage in general, to see many of us have not "gotten past" this and have not learned to handle our relationships in a healthy, Godly manner.
Some of you reading this may be thinking at this point, "What in the world is she even talking about?" If that is you, my feelings will not be the least bit hurt if you don't read another word here. If you can relate on any level, please read on.
If we never realize and acknowledge the hurts we incurred at our fathers' hands, whether intended or not, we will never realize how they continue to impact our view of ourselves and the people around us, including those closest to us- our children, our spouses, our siblings, and even our closest friends. Admitting you have a problem is the first step on the road to recovery. Admitting you avoid conflict because chances are someone will be angry with you and if someone is angry with you, they won't love you and you must be loved at all costs-admitting this is the first step. Admitting you invite and even instigate conflict because you relate to others best when one of you is angry-admitting this is the first step. Admitting you procrastinate tasks because you figure you will blow whatever you attempt because you never manage to get it right anyway-admitting this is the first step. Admitting you take on more than you can handle in order to earn the approval of others- admitting this is the first step.
And the next step? Admitting (and believing-this takes some time and patience with yourself and lots of continual prayer) that none of this matters! Regardless of how we were treated by our earthly fathers, regardless of they standards they dangled in front of us that we could never quite meet, regardless of the love that we felt was almost within our grasp if we just tried a little harder, it doesn't matter! It doesn't matter because we have a Father in Heaven who loves us with an everlasting, unending, incomparable, unexplainable love! Just as we are - shortcomings and all, at out best and at our worst, in our shining moments and in our failures.
We no longer have to prove ourselves, we no longer have to fight for the love and approval we so desperately long for, we no longer have to fight at all! When Christ died on the cross, He said, "It is finished." (John 19:30) Our fights for approval, our strivings to please, our desperation for love? "It is finished."
God told His children, the Israelites , "Since you are precious and honored in my sight, and because I love you, I will give people in exchange for you, nations in exchange for your life." (Isaiah 43:4) The nation of Israel were His chosen people, the people He promised all the world would be blessed through. And they were precious and honored in His sight and He loved them enough to give nations in exchange for them, to make sure they were safe and provided for. If you are in Christ, you are now one of His chosen people and He loves you, you are precious and honored in His sight. He will give nations in exchange for you. He loves you that much! The God of the Universe is willing to do anything for you! And He did - He gave up what He loved the most - He gave His Son for you.
And all that stuff we didn't get growing up? We now have it all in abundance, more than we ever could have imagined - we are precious and honored and loved!
Wednesday, April 30, 2014
A New Thing
April 2013
It took me a while to even locate my blog out here in cyberspace. Imagine my surprise to see my last post was in 2010! Obviously, I have not been very dedicated to blogging. Lately, though, I have been feeling the "bug" to start writing again. Some of my motivation is personal - I have recently (3 1/2 months ago) become a widow - a word I had always associated with much older, gray-haired ladies. To find myself in this category at the age of 57 was, understatedly, a surprise. There are so many things I still have to process and wrap my head around, things I am still getting used to, trying to figure out. But more importantly, I have so many things to share about God's grace, timing, and provision that I felt compelled to start writing again.
It is feeling like Spring here - a full month after the calendar told us it should be here, but waiting only makes the arrival that much sweeter. My husband always loved Spring. He was passionate, to say the least, about our lawn. Working all day out in the yard was not work to him, but pure joy. He took pride in having a well manicured, green lawn. My passion runs more toward bright, colorful flowers rather than green grass, but the two complimented each other nicely. Unfortunately, our beautiful lawn is not so beautiful this Spring. At least half of the yard is brown dirt with no hint of green coming through. So, I had a choice to make. Do I hire someone to fix it? (My husband would have known exactly what the problem was and how to fix it.). Do I leave it and hope for the best? Or do I put on my big girl pants, do some research, and get out there and get dirty and try to figure out and fix the problem on my own?
May 2014
A year later, I am revisiting this post. I obviously wasn't ready to share my thoughts last year - still too much to process, I guess. The learning and processing isn't done and I imagine will never be, but I have come a long way in 15 months. God has carried me through another winter, a very long one, and is gently breathing new life into me.
One of the things I love most about spring is the new, fresh, tender life it brings. It comes gradually, quietly, and sometime retreats for a bit. At first, it seems like it will never come, but then you start to see small, subtle signs-gentle breezes bringing a new, clean smell to the air, daylight lasting a bit longer, tiny green shoots pushing up through the dry, dead leaves.
God brings healing the same way- slowly, gently, new life pushing up through what has felt dry and dead. The daylight seems to last a bit longer and the long nights get shorter. And, yes, at times it seems to retreat. The thing about Spring? If you don't go through a Winter, if you don't go through seasons, sometimes you can take the coming of Spring for granted. Know that whatever season you may be in, God will bring you through it and Spring will come again. It may not come as quickly as you would like, but trust that it will come. And while you are waiting? God promises never to leave you or forsake you (Hebrews 13:5) and to hold you in His hand (Psalm 37:24).
Oh, the dead spots in the lawn? Grubs! The problem is not completely fixed, but the dead spots are smaller this year, there is new, tender grass sprouting, and more seed has been sown. Just like God is doing in my life and like He will do in yours-the dead spots will recede and He will grow new things in you.
It took me a while to even locate my blog out here in cyberspace. Imagine my surprise to see my last post was in 2010! Obviously, I have not been very dedicated to blogging. Lately, though, I have been feeling the "bug" to start writing again. Some of my motivation is personal - I have recently (3 1/2 months ago) become a widow - a word I had always associated with much older, gray-haired ladies. To find myself in this category at the age of 57 was, understatedly, a surprise. There are so many things I still have to process and wrap my head around, things I am still getting used to, trying to figure out. But more importantly, I have so many things to share about God's grace, timing, and provision that I felt compelled to start writing again.
It is feeling like Spring here - a full month after the calendar told us it should be here, but waiting only makes the arrival that much sweeter. My husband always loved Spring. He was passionate, to say the least, about our lawn. Working all day out in the yard was not work to him, but pure joy. He took pride in having a well manicured, green lawn. My passion runs more toward bright, colorful flowers rather than green grass, but the two complimented each other nicely. Unfortunately, our beautiful lawn is not so beautiful this Spring. At least half of the yard is brown dirt with no hint of green coming through. So, I had a choice to make. Do I hire someone to fix it? (My husband would have known exactly what the problem was and how to fix it.). Do I leave it and hope for the best? Or do I put on my big girl pants, do some research, and get out there and get dirty and try to figure out and fix the problem on my own?
May 2014
A year later, I am revisiting this post. I obviously wasn't ready to share my thoughts last year - still too much to process, I guess. The learning and processing isn't done and I imagine will never be, but I have come a long way in 15 months. God has carried me through another winter, a very long one, and is gently breathing new life into me.
One of the things I love most about spring is the new, fresh, tender life it brings. It comes gradually, quietly, and sometime retreats for a bit. At first, it seems like it will never come, but then you start to see small, subtle signs-gentle breezes bringing a new, clean smell to the air, daylight lasting a bit longer, tiny green shoots pushing up through the dry, dead leaves.
God brings healing the same way- slowly, gently, new life pushing up through what has felt dry and dead. The daylight seems to last a bit longer and the long nights get shorter. And, yes, at times it seems to retreat. The thing about Spring? If you don't go through a Winter, if you don't go through seasons, sometimes you can take the coming of Spring for granted. Know that whatever season you may be in, God will bring you through it and Spring will come again. It may not come as quickly as you would like, but trust that it will come. And while you are waiting? God promises never to leave you or forsake you (Hebrews 13:5) and to hold you in His hand (Psalm 37:24).
Oh, the dead spots in the lawn? Grubs! The problem is not completely fixed, but the dead spots are smaller this year, there is new, tender grass sprouting, and more seed has been sown. Just like God is doing in my life and like He will do in yours-the dead spots will recede and He will grow new things in you.
Monday, October 11, 2010
God's Garden
Fall is one of the most beautiful times of the year here. The trees are magnificent with their palette of colors, like God took his paint brush and splashed the most brilliant of colors He has all over them. The sky is the most pure of blues. The sun, while still warm, is gentle on your face. But it is also a time of transition - transition into winter.
It can be bone chilling cold here in Michigan in winter. The kind of cold that takes your breath away. The kind of cold that makes you feel like your bones could just snap. The kind of cold that makes you long for spring. The blue of the sky is rarely seen. Instead it is usually a dark, heavy gray that you can feel weighing down on your shoulders. But every once in a while there is a day that is sunny & warmer than normal and teases you that spring is on the way, a promise of things to come. But winter here is much longer than the calender tells us, lasting sometimes into mid April, so you know you must wait a little longer. But then......
The days get longer, the temperatures stay warmer for days at a time and the wind blows in the smell of spring. The smell of wet, dark earth and the fresh, clean, smell of green. The rains come and wash away the leftovers of winter. Things that were brown begin showing tinges of color. Branches that have been bare become heavy with buds. Spring bulbs poke tentative, tiny green shoots up through the ground. And you long to be out in God's creation. The time of self-imposed hibernation is over and the outside beckons.
When I pull those dead leaves off & uncover tender, new green shoots poking through the dirt, I am always reminded of the work God has done in my life. Of how He rescued me from a very long, dark winter season in my life. I had buried myself in more than leaves for several years. God gently uncovered all the dead & dirt from my life to show me how I could become new in Him. He breathed new life in me through His Son.
And yet, the gentleness and newness of spring does not last. Soon, the sun will become fierce and the rains that were so plentiful dwindle or stop all together. If these new plants are not watered and fed, they become wilted and brown. New growth dries up and if not tended and cared for, dies. Yet if nurtured and tended to, these plants become strong. They grow tall, reaching up to the sun and can withstand the heat it will soon bring.
Very much like my soul. If I do not let God nurture and tend to me, my soul dries up, withers, becomes brown. I do not grow tall or strong and cannot withstand the heat of the circumstances of my life. God does not wish for my soul to become brown and brittle. Jesus said ,"I am the vine and my Father is the gardner......you are the branches. If a man remains in me and I in him, he will bear much fruit;.....This is to my Father's glory that you bear much fruit..." (John 15: 1, 5, & 8)
God, this is my prayer:
Tend to my soul and nourish it. Remind me, when necessary, that I cannot feed myself, only You can reach those places in me that need tending to the most. Help me to remain in You, so that I can bear much fruit for You, no matter what the season of my life. Amen
It can be bone chilling cold here in Michigan in winter. The kind of cold that takes your breath away. The kind of cold that makes you feel like your bones could just snap. The kind of cold that makes you long for spring. The blue of the sky is rarely seen. Instead it is usually a dark, heavy gray that you can feel weighing down on your shoulders. But every once in a while there is a day that is sunny & warmer than normal and teases you that spring is on the way, a promise of things to come. But winter here is much longer than the calender tells us, lasting sometimes into mid April, so you know you must wait a little longer. But then......
The days get longer, the temperatures stay warmer for days at a time and the wind blows in the smell of spring. The smell of wet, dark earth and the fresh, clean, smell of green. The rains come and wash away the leftovers of winter. Things that were brown begin showing tinges of color. Branches that have been bare become heavy with buds. Spring bulbs poke tentative, tiny green shoots up through the ground. And you long to be out in God's creation. The time of self-imposed hibernation is over and the outside beckons.
When I pull those dead leaves off & uncover tender, new green shoots poking through the dirt, I am always reminded of the work God has done in my life. Of how He rescued me from a very long, dark winter season in my life. I had buried myself in more than leaves for several years. God gently uncovered all the dead & dirt from my life to show me how I could become new in Him. He breathed new life in me through His Son.
And yet, the gentleness and newness of spring does not last. Soon, the sun will become fierce and the rains that were so plentiful dwindle or stop all together. If these new plants are not watered and fed, they become wilted and brown. New growth dries up and if not tended and cared for, dies. Yet if nurtured and tended to, these plants become strong. They grow tall, reaching up to the sun and can withstand the heat it will soon bring.
Very much like my soul. If I do not let God nurture and tend to me, my soul dries up, withers, becomes brown. I do not grow tall or strong and cannot withstand the heat of the circumstances of my life. God does not wish for my soul to become brown and brittle. Jesus said ,"I am the vine and my Father is the gardner......you are the branches. If a man remains in me and I in him, he will bear much fruit;.....This is to my Father's glory that you bear much fruit..." (John 15: 1, 5, & 8)
God, this is my prayer:
Tend to my soul and nourish it. Remind me, when necessary, that I cannot feed myself, only You can reach those places in me that need tending to the most. Help me to remain in You, so that I can bear much fruit for You, no matter what the season of my life. Amen
Please, God, can I stay up on this mountain top with You?
We've all been there.....
You have been to a worship service or a retreat or a concert that has so uplifted you, has so inspired you, that you know this time it will stick. You feel like you have been to the mountaintop. You feel so connected with God. You can see the woman He wants you to be all the time and you know you can do it!
You will write those notes of encouragement, you will be a nice to your husband and kids no matter what their attitudes are, you will keep your house in order (after all, God is a God of order, not chaos, right?), you will pray daily for all the people on the prayer list, you will take time to visit with that neighbor you don't know very well but seems lonely, you will not join in the gossip at work, you will share your faith with others...And the list goes on and on - the things we know we are supposed to do, but don't always because life and our own stuff gets in the way. But you know this time will be different from the others. This time, you won't let anything stop you - you are on fire for God. You are ready to be used for great things.
And then you get home......
Back to real life....
Home to the same dishes that were in the sink when you left....
Home to homework left until late Sunday night to finish....
Home to an urgent message from work that has to be handled now...
Home to crank, needy kids...
Home to .....lots of things that weren't up there on that mountain top.
And you feel your inspiration and resolve deflate a little, but that's OK. You take a deep breath, breath a little prayer, paste a smile on your face, and dig in to what ever needs to be done and try to stifle that little feeling of resentment that you feel building. That feeling that tells you that these things could have been taken care of without you. That feelings that says "Do I have to handle everything myself?" That feeling that says, "I was created for bigger things than this."
And that feeling of connectedness with God seems a little farther away. But once you get all this mundane, every day stuff handled, you will get it back. That connection you felt. That inspiration you felt. That feeling that God was about to use you for BIG things.
But what if the great things God wants to use you for start with the little, mundane, every day things like being patient with cranky kids and co-workers? What if the great thing He wants you to do is to write notes or make encouraging phone calls? What if this - your every day life -is where God wants to connect with you?
Many Scriptures talk about "everything":
So in everything, do to others what you would have them do to you, for this sums up the Law and the Prophets -Matt. 7:12.
....and teaching them to obey everything I have commanded you. And surely I am with you always, to the very end of the age.Matt. 28:20I
Do everything in love. I Cor. 16:14
Since we have these promises, dear friends, let us purify ourselves from everything that contaminates body and spirit, perfecting holiness out of reverence for God. II Cor. 7:1,
Do everything without complaining or arguing, Phil 2:14,
Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. Phil 4:6,
In everything set them an example by doing what is good. In your teaching show integrity, seriousness,... Titus 2:7
Does God mean everything that we think is worthy? I don't think so. If that was what He meant, wouldn't He have said that? God can surely use us for BIG things, but since He is the God of all things, can't He also use us in mighty ways in all the things that seem not so mighty to us? If He had intended for us to be on the mountaintop all the time, that is exactly where we would be. But instead He put us in our families, in our neighborhoods, in our jobs, and even in our churches, where we can make a mighty difference in sometimes very small ways.
I think He takes us to the mountaintop sometimes to give us a little preview of what Eternity with Him will be like. But for now, in this earthly life, He has placed wherever we are to be His light in both big and small ways.
"His master replied, 'Well done, good and faithful servant! You have been faithful with a few things; I will put you in charge of many things. Come and share your master's happiness! Matt. 25:23
You have been to a worship service or a retreat or a concert that has so uplifted you, has so inspired you, that you know this time it will stick. You feel like you have been to the mountaintop. You feel so connected with God. You can see the woman He wants you to be all the time and you know you can do it!
You will write those notes of encouragement, you will be a nice to your husband and kids no matter what their attitudes are, you will keep your house in order (after all, God is a God of order, not chaos, right?), you will pray daily for all the people on the prayer list, you will take time to visit with that neighbor you don't know very well but seems lonely, you will not join in the gossip at work, you will share your faith with others...And the list goes on and on - the things we know we are supposed to do, but don't always because life and our own stuff gets in the way. But you know this time will be different from the others. This time, you won't let anything stop you - you are on fire for God. You are ready to be used for great things.
And then you get home......
Back to real life....
Home to the same dishes that were in the sink when you left....
Home to homework left until late Sunday night to finish....
Home to an urgent message from work that has to be handled now...
Home to crank, needy kids...
Home to .....lots of things that weren't up there on that mountain top.
And you feel your inspiration and resolve deflate a little, but that's OK. You take a deep breath, breath a little prayer, paste a smile on your face, and dig in to what ever needs to be done and try to stifle that little feeling of resentment that you feel building. That feeling that tells you that these things could have been taken care of without you. That feelings that says "Do I have to handle everything myself?" That feeling that says, "I was created for bigger things than this."
And that feeling of connectedness with God seems a little farther away. But once you get all this mundane, every day stuff handled, you will get it back. That connection you felt. That inspiration you felt. That feeling that God was about to use you for BIG things.
But what if the great things God wants to use you for start with the little, mundane, every day things like being patient with cranky kids and co-workers? What if the great thing He wants you to do is to write notes or make encouraging phone calls? What if this - your every day life -is where God wants to connect with you?
Many Scriptures talk about "everything":
So in everything, do to others what you would have them do to you, for this sums up the Law and the Prophets -Matt. 7:12.
....and teaching them to obey everything I have commanded you. And surely I am with you always, to the very end of the age.Matt. 28:20I
Do everything in love. I Cor. 16:14
Since we have these promises, dear friends, let us purify ourselves from everything that contaminates body and spirit, perfecting holiness out of reverence for God. II Cor. 7:1,
Do everything without complaining or arguing, Phil 2:14,
Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. Phil 4:6,
In everything set them an example by doing what is good. In your teaching show integrity, seriousness,... Titus 2:7
Does God mean everything that we think is worthy? I don't think so. If that was what He meant, wouldn't He have said that? God can surely use us for BIG things, but since He is the God of all things, can't He also use us in mighty ways in all the things that seem not so mighty to us? If He had intended for us to be on the mountaintop all the time, that is exactly where we would be. But instead He put us in our families, in our neighborhoods, in our jobs, and even in our churches, where we can make a mighty difference in sometimes very small ways.
I think He takes us to the mountaintop sometimes to give us a little preview of what Eternity with Him will be like. But for now, in this earthly life, He has placed wherever we are to be His light in both big and small ways.
"His master replied, 'Well done, good and faithful servant! You have been faithful with a few things; I will put you in charge of many things. Come and share your master's happiness! Matt. 25:23
Sunday, October 10, 2010
Secrets
Remember when you were little and you would share secrets with your best friend? You would tell your secret only after your friend had pinky-sworn not to tell anyone. Sometimes, it was at a sleep over and you were in the dark under the covers, which made the shared secret seem even more special. There was power in that shared secret that only the two of you had -you had a special, often fragile bond formed by that secret. There was also the potential for betrayal with a shared secret, so you had to pick who you shared with very carefully. Sharing a secret implied trust in the person you were sharing with. Sometimes that trust was betrayed bringing embarrassment and anger. But for the most part, when we were young, secrets were special - something to giggle over in the dark or behind the school.
And then there were the secrets we didn't dare share. Dark secrets that were somehow our fault and we were warned not to tell as no one would understand and it wouldn't be special anymore. The longer a secret is kept, the stronger it becomes and the more the power the Enemy can bestow upon it. Power to make us feel ashamed and guilty. Power to make us feel unworthy of any of the good things life has to offer. Power to make us unworthy of any kind of love, especially the most powerful love there is - the love of God.
We hide our secrets in deep, dark places inside. And they become deeper and darker until there is no deeper, darker place they can go and they have to come out. They come out in anger and rage and bitterness, they come out in control issues, they come out in depression and eating disorders, they come out in addictions and broken relationships. Because we don't deserve any better - we have become the shame of our secret. We have believed the lies the Enemy has whispered in our ear for years. You see, the Enemy thrives in the dark places of our life, the places we have shut out the light.
We may or may not be successful in hiding our secrets from the people in our lives, but there is One we can never hide them from. He is there in the darkest, deepest places we can find to bury our shame and hurt. He is there and waiting - waiting to light the darkness; waiting to mend the broken, torn places; waiting to the expose the lies we have been told and believed and replace them with Truth. But we are the only one who holds the keys to those hidden places and we have the choice whether to unlock the door or keep it locked up tight. We have the choice to accept the love & grace he offers or we can choose to be a prisoner of our past, whatever it holds. He sent His most precious offering, His Son, Jesus Christ, so that we no longer have to be in bondage.
"What, then, shall we say in response to this? If God is for us, who can be against us? He who did not spare his own Son, but gave him up for us all—how will he not also, along with him, graciously give us all things? Who will bring any charge against those whom God has chosen? It is God who justifies. Who is he that condemns? Christ Jesus, who died—more than that, who was raised to life—is at the right hand of God and is also interceding for us. Who shall separate us from the love of Christ? Shall trouble or hardship or persecution or famine or nakedness or danger or sword?
As it is written:
"For your sake we face death all day long; we are considered as sheep to be slaughtered.", in all these things we are more than conquerors through him who loved us.
For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, (absolutely nothing - the Message) will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord. (Romans 8:31-39 NIV- italics mine).
Read that again & let it sink in - if the King of the Universe, the One who set the stars in the sky, is for us - for you and me - then who can dare to bring a charge of shame or guilt against us? He longs for us to give up our darkness and to give it up to Him. Somewhere along the way, amid the lies, we have convinced ourselves our secret is so horrible and so big that He can't handle it! Or, even worse, that He doesn't want to! So, we think we have to handle it in our own broken ways - ways that always harm us and usually those around us, too.
Will it be easy? No - putting broken things back together is never easy. Will it be terrifying? Yes - but "perfect love casts out fear" (I John 4: 18b) Will it hurt? Yes - Light always hurts after darkness until we become used to the light. Will it be worth it? Absolutely - "The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy, but I have come that they may have life and have it to the full." (John 10:10)
And then there were the secrets we didn't dare share. Dark secrets that were somehow our fault and we were warned not to tell as no one would understand and it wouldn't be special anymore. The longer a secret is kept, the stronger it becomes and the more the power the Enemy can bestow upon it. Power to make us feel ashamed and guilty. Power to make us feel unworthy of any of the good things life has to offer. Power to make us unworthy of any kind of love, especially the most powerful love there is - the love of God.
We hide our secrets in deep, dark places inside. And they become deeper and darker until there is no deeper, darker place they can go and they have to come out. They come out in anger and rage and bitterness, they come out in control issues, they come out in depression and eating disorders, they come out in addictions and broken relationships. Because we don't deserve any better - we have become the shame of our secret. We have believed the lies the Enemy has whispered in our ear for years. You see, the Enemy thrives in the dark places of our life, the places we have shut out the light.
We may or may not be successful in hiding our secrets from the people in our lives, but there is One we can never hide them from. He is there in the darkest, deepest places we can find to bury our shame and hurt. He is there and waiting - waiting to light the darkness; waiting to mend the broken, torn places; waiting to the expose the lies we have been told and believed and replace them with Truth. But we are the only one who holds the keys to those hidden places and we have the choice whether to unlock the door or keep it locked up tight. We have the choice to accept the love & grace he offers or we can choose to be a prisoner of our past, whatever it holds. He sent His most precious offering, His Son, Jesus Christ, so that we no longer have to be in bondage.
"What, then, shall we say in response to this? If God is for us, who can be against us? He who did not spare his own Son, but gave him up for us all—how will he not also, along with him, graciously give us all things? Who will bring any charge against those whom God has chosen? It is God who justifies. Who is he that condemns? Christ Jesus, who died—more than that, who was raised to life—is at the right hand of God and is also interceding for us. Who shall separate us from the love of Christ? Shall trouble or hardship or persecution or famine or nakedness or danger or sword?
As it is written:
"For your sake we face death all day long; we are considered as sheep to be slaughtered.", in all these things we are more than conquerors through him who loved us.
For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, (absolutely nothing - the Message) will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord. (Romans 8:31-39 NIV- italics mine).
Read that again & let it sink in - if the King of the Universe, the One who set the stars in the sky, is for us - for you and me - then who can dare to bring a charge of shame or guilt against us? He longs for us to give up our darkness and to give it up to Him. Somewhere along the way, amid the lies, we have convinced ourselves our secret is so horrible and so big that He can't handle it! Or, even worse, that He doesn't want to! So, we think we have to handle it in our own broken ways - ways that always harm us and usually those around us, too.
Will it be easy? No - putting broken things back together is never easy. Will it be terrifying? Yes - but "perfect love casts out fear" (I John 4: 18b) Will it hurt? Yes - Light always hurts after darkness until we become used to the light. Will it be worth it? Absolutely - "The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy, but I have come that they may have life and have it to the full." (John 10:10)
Sunday, May 9, 2010
To My Mama
Dear Mom,
Did I ever tell you that you’re my hero? I know that sounds trite, but when I look back over the years and I think of all the things I have learned from you, I am amazed that a farm girl from a small town could be so wise and so strong.
You have not always had an easy life, but you always persevered. You hung in there when you had to be a full-time single working mother to a little girl in a time when that was not very socially acceptable. You hung in there when you had to move away from your family & friends for your husband’s job. You hung in there when you had a child born with a birth defect. You hung in there when you had a rebellious teenage daughter that ridiculed all the things you held dear. You hung in there when you were diagnosed with a disease that could be managed, but not cured.
You taught me that God will provide when you can’t imagine how. I cherish the story of how you would put your last $2 in the offering at church, not knowing how you were going to feed us for the week, yet somehow, we always managed to eat. Even though I was very small, I don’t ever remember feeling afraid or sad during that time in our lives, even though I’m sure most days you were both.
You taught me that people make mistakes and it’s not our place to judge. When 2 of my friends got pregnant in high school, your response has always stayed with me. You said, “They must have really loved him.” No judgment about right or wrong because you knew that would have started one of those battles that I was so fond of at the time and closed the door for any further discussions.
You taught me that doctors don’t always know what’s best for your child and to trust your heart.
You taught me that home is always home. When I thought I knew everything at 18 & decided to move across country with about two cents in my pocket and dubious travelling company, you told me I could always come home. Your love was always unconditional, even when I made choices that made you angry or broke your heart.
You taught me that nature and the beauty in it are one of God’s nicest gifts to us and to stop and take time to appreciate it.
You taught me that God has a purpose for us regardless of what our circumstances are and will see us through anything. I pray God has granted me the wisdom to impart the faith and strength and unconditional love to my boys that you have given me. I know you don’t always feel strong, but you are one of the strongest women I know. Yes, you are truly my hero.
I love you, Mom. Happy Mother’s Day.
Did I ever tell you that you’re my hero? I know that sounds trite, but when I look back over the years and I think of all the things I have learned from you, I am amazed that a farm girl from a small town could be so wise and so strong.
You have not always had an easy life, but you always persevered. You hung in there when you had to be a full-time single working mother to a little girl in a time when that was not very socially acceptable. You hung in there when you had to move away from your family & friends for your husband’s job. You hung in there when you had a child born with a birth defect. You hung in there when you had a rebellious teenage daughter that ridiculed all the things you held dear. You hung in there when you were diagnosed with a disease that could be managed, but not cured.
You taught me that God will provide when you can’t imagine how. I cherish the story of how you would put your last $2 in the offering at church, not knowing how you were going to feed us for the week, yet somehow, we always managed to eat. Even though I was very small, I don’t ever remember feeling afraid or sad during that time in our lives, even though I’m sure most days you were both.
You taught me that people make mistakes and it’s not our place to judge. When 2 of my friends got pregnant in high school, your response has always stayed with me. You said, “They must have really loved him.” No judgment about right or wrong because you knew that would have started one of those battles that I was so fond of at the time and closed the door for any further discussions.
You taught me that doctors don’t always know what’s best for your child and to trust your heart.
You taught me that home is always home. When I thought I knew everything at 18 & decided to move across country with about two cents in my pocket and dubious travelling company, you told me I could always come home. Your love was always unconditional, even when I made choices that made you angry or broke your heart.
You taught me that nature and the beauty in it are one of God’s nicest gifts to us and to stop and take time to appreciate it.
You taught me that God has a purpose for us regardless of what our circumstances are and will see us through anything. I pray God has granted me the wisdom to impart the faith and strength and unconditional love to my boys that you have given me. I know you don’t always feel strong, but you are one of the strongest women I know. Yes, you are truly my hero.
I love you, Mom. Happy Mother’s Day.
Sunday, January 24, 2010
Growing Pains
My oldest son turns 25 tomorrow. Somehow that seems like such a milestone birthday, much more so than when he turned 18 or even 21. Maybe because he just recently became engaged to his sweetheart of 5 years. Soon he won't be "my" boy any more, he will be someone else's. Even though my husband teases me that neither one of our sons can be rightfully called boys any more, they will both always be "my boys". (Our youngest is 16 & towers over me at 6'2"). There is something special about the bond between mothers and sons. I know our children are temporary gifts from God and I pray we have done well with those gifts.
Where does the time go? I still remember the drive to the hospital for his birth as if it were last night. It was almost 2 weeks before my due date and I was scheduled to start my maternity leave in just 2 days. It was close to midnight, I had been at work on my feet all day & I was almost done for the night when I knew something wasn't right. After calling the doctor and being told to go to the hospital, my co-workers started trying to reach my husband. (This was back "in the day" before everyone had cell phones.) My husband broke all speed records to get us to the hospital. What should have taken 45 minutes from my job only took 20. When we got to the hospital, they whisked me away to determine the extent of the complications. I was soon reassured that everything was fine. Since we already knew this baby was to be delivered by C-section and my doctor had another surgery scheduled the next morning, they decided the baby & I would be fine till then & got us settled in for the night. Not until much later did I know my poor husband had spent all of this time anxiously on the pay phone with his mother as the hospital staff forgot to tell him the baby & I were doing fine! Bless his heart, he spent the rest of the night in a chair next to me and didn't leave my side. Nor did he leave my side during the entire delivery.
The next morning, a healthy baby boy was delivered at 10:30am. I didn't get to hold or feed him right away because of the surgery and the anesthesia, but the next day I did. I still remember that tiny little baby in my hospital bed with me and the indescribable feelings welling up in me. To this day, I tell soon-to-be moms that no one can describe the depth of feelings that this tiny person will bring out in you - the awe that this little person came from you, the beauty you see in the red scrunched up face, the perfection of the little fingers & toes, the absolute wonder of it all.
And then the fear sets in - the huge responsibility of it all. This is not a baby doll that can be put away, this is a live human being that you have been given charge of. It is an awesome and overwhelming feeling. I was absolutely terrified. Again, since this was "back in the day", I was in the hospital for 5 days with my son being brought to me only when I wanted him or he was hungry, so I had lots of time to dwell on these fears & build up my inadequacies in my head.
Through God's grace and perfect timing, I began attending church 6 weeks later & started my walk with the Lord soon after. He has seen us well through these 25 years and I am so proud of the man our son has become. He is kind, compassionate, funny, and secure in who he is, and loves the Lord.
Our son has survived a new mom who didn't know what she was doing most of the time, bad advice from doctors (his first pediatrician told me I couldn't feed him any more than every 4 hours - for the first 2 weeks of his life I'm afraid I almost starved that boy!), a heart murmur, bad home hair cuts, stitches, broken bones, more than one broken heart, and lots of other growing pains.
I have survived, too. I survived being a new mom who didn't know what to do with a crying & hungry baby, his first & subsequent bouts of croup in the middle of the night, bad home haircuts, his first boo-boo, his first day of kindergarten, stitches, broken hearts, graduation, going 1000 miles away to college, and lots of other growing pains.
Someone asked me recently, "How do you let them get married?" I have prayed for this girl for him since he was a toddler and she is all that I have asked God for for him. So, with mixed emotions - joy, gratefulness, and yes, even some sadness, I share our gift. I know I will survive this growing pain, also.
Happy 25th birthday, son. We love you.
"Behold, I am doing a new thing."
Isaiah 43"19a
Where does the time go? I still remember the drive to the hospital for his birth as if it were last night. It was almost 2 weeks before my due date and I was scheduled to start my maternity leave in just 2 days. It was close to midnight, I had been at work on my feet all day & I was almost done for the night when I knew something wasn't right. After calling the doctor and being told to go to the hospital, my co-workers started trying to reach my husband. (This was back "in the day" before everyone had cell phones.) My husband broke all speed records to get us to the hospital. What should have taken 45 minutes from my job only took 20. When we got to the hospital, they whisked me away to determine the extent of the complications. I was soon reassured that everything was fine. Since we already knew this baby was to be delivered by C-section and my doctor had another surgery scheduled the next morning, they decided the baby & I would be fine till then & got us settled in for the night. Not until much later did I know my poor husband had spent all of this time anxiously on the pay phone with his mother as the hospital staff forgot to tell him the baby & I were doing fine! Bless his heart, he spent the rest of the night in a chair next to me and didn't leave my side. Nor did he leave my side during the entire delivery.
The next morning, a healthy baby boy was delivered at 10:30am. I didn't get to hold or feed him right away because of the surgery and the anesthesia, but the next day I did. I still remember that tiny little baby in my hospital bed with me and the indescribable feelings welling up in me. To this day, I tell soon-to-be moms that no one can describe the depth of feelings that this tiny person will bring out in you - the awe that this little person came from you, the beauty you see in the red scrunched up face, the perfection of the little fingers & toes, the absolute wonder of it all.
And then the fear sets in - the huge responsibility of it all. This is not a baby doll that can be put away, this is a live human being that you have been given charge of. It is an awesome and overwhelming feeling. I was absolutely terrified. Again, since this was "back in the day", I was in the hospital for 5 days with my son being brought to me only when I wanted him or he was hungry, so I had lots of time to dwell on these fears & build up my inadequacies in my head.
Through God's grace and perfect timing, I began attending church 6 weeks later & started my walk with the Lord soon after. He has seen us well through these 25 years and I am so proud of the man our son has become. He is kind, compassionate, funny, and secure in who he is, and loves the Lord.
Our son has survived a new mom who didn't know what she was doing most of the time, bad advice from doctors (his first pediatrician told me I couldn't feed him any more than every 4 hours - for the first 2 weeks of his life I'm afraid I almost starved that boy!), a heart murmur, bad home hair cuts, stitches, broken bones, more than one broken heart, and lots of other growing pains.
I have survived, too. I survived being a new mom who didn't know what to do with a crying & hungry baby, his first & subsequent bouts of croup in the middle of the night, bad home haircuts, his first boo-boo, his first day of kindergarten, stitches, broken hearts, graduation, going 1000 miles away to college, and lots of other growing pains.
Someone asked me recently, "How do you let them get married?" I have prayed for this girl for him since he was a toddler and she is all that I have asked God for for him. So, with mixed emotions - joy, gratefulness, and yes, even some sadness, I share our gift. I know I will survive this growing pain, also.
Happy 25th birthday, son. We love you.
"Behold, I am doing a new thing."
Isaiah 43"19a
Friday, January 22, 2010
Life's Little Irritations
I had one of those days a couple weeks ago. It was the came on the tail of 3 days of 3 different non-working coffee pots (2 of them brand new from the store). Anyone who knows me even remotely, knows you don't mess with my coffee! The cat doesn't even rub against me in the morning before I've had my coffee. But, I took that all in stride & even viewed it as somewhat comical, making jokes with the customer service person at the store as I was buying my 3rd coffee pot in 3 days. (Which by the way, we love & works just fine. Third time's a charm....)
But the next morning, when I got up to start the coffee in my brand new working coffee pot & the dishes from the night before were still in the sink and on the counter after my teenager told me he would do them before he went to bed, my humor level dropped a little. OK, so I would deal with looking at dirty dishes all day. There would just be more for him to do when he got home from school.
When my laptop wouldn't turn on, even after I plugged the power cord in and fiddled with it, I felt any level of humor I might have had plummet. So, I dragged out the old computer with the key board & bulky monitor & plugged it in and was grateful when it powered up just fine. However, I couldn't get to the internet. Irritation was quickly setting in and rising rapidly. My husband finally solved that problem for me after doing his magic with it. So, out onto the worldwide web I go. Except, none of my settings or passwords are saved on this computer. So, now I have to find the piece of paper I have somewhere with all that information. Mission finally accomplished & I got the all work done that I had wanted to, but the tone for the day had been set. What else would go wrong? Plus, I had spent much more time on this whole process than I had intended. My timing and my plans for my day off had been totally interrupted.
Not sure if that was when the light bulb went off or not - my timing, my plans? Somewhere along the way, interested only in what was inconveniencing me, I had lost sight of the fact that I could go out & buy a new coffee pot if I needed to, that we had electricity to run the coffee pot & coffee to put in the coffee pot. I had lost sight of the fact that we had food to put on dishes. I had lost sight of the fact that we even have a back-up computer. I had lost sight of the fact that I had a day off that I could enjoy. I had lost sight of all the many ways my life is so blessed. I have a roof over my head, running water, electricity, heat, food in the cupboards, a closet full of clothes to choose from, my husband & I both still have jobs (no small feat in Michigan these days), & I know where my children, my healthy children, are. I had completely lost sight of the many, many ways the Lord has blessed me.
I once heard someone say that if you own your own home you are among the richest 3% of the world's population. That blew my mind - I would never have considered us to be materially wealthy! We often have more month left than paycheck, only have one car, and for heaven's sake, don't even have cable TV! And for the most part, I am very content with that, but there are days ......
When did my joy & contentment get tied up with how my day was going & my checkbook balance? When did outside things start to matter more? I don't want to be one of those people that is never satisfied and never happy and always wants more and for the most part I am not. But there are days.....
And on those days, I must just break my Heavenly Father's heart. There is an old song that we don't sing very much at church any more, but it is strongly on my heart today.
"Count your blessings,
count them one by one.
Count your blessings,
see what God has done."
Maybe that's exactly why we have "those days". Maybe it's God's way of gently saying, "That doesn't matter, my darling daughter. All that is just stuff. Look at everything else I have done for you. It is enough."
Monday, January 11, 2010
Paper, Paper Everywhere
I have never been able to conquer the paper mess. They seem to be everywhere - on the table, on the desk, on the counter, in my purse, stuffed into my work bag.
papers to be sorted
papers to be filed
papers to be paid
papers about what I have already paid
papers to be read
papers I have already read but might want to read sometime again
papers I haven't read and probably never will but then again might someday
papers with addresses and e-mails I should use but probably won't
papers with website addresses that sound interesting but will probably never visit
papers with knitting patterns I have already made
papers with knitting patterns I would like to make
papers about meetings
papers from meetings
papers about school
papers from school
papers about great savings if only I would remember to take them to the store with me
papers about things I would like to buy but never will
papers about where the things I need to buy are the cheapest
I have read all the "organize yourself" articles, books, and websites. I probably have some of those articles laying around here somewhere. I know the "handle it once rule". I have file cabinets with hanging folders and labeled folders, alphabetized even. I have an expandable file, I have baskets on shelves, I have 3-ring binders with dividers and paper protectors. I know the "set a timer" strategy. Yet the papers remain - and more keep showing up. They haven't taken over - yet. I do not need to sign up for the crew of "Hoarders" to come to my house - yet.
The papers move frequently. They move from the table to the refrigerator, they move into the "to be filed" pile, from the kitchen to the office, out of my purse to the table, and round and round they go. When do I actually file the "to be filed" pile, another one soon mysterously takes its place.
I tell myself that I am creatively disorganized, that I can locate what I need when I need it. And I usually can. But not without first spending some time going through the things I don't need first, sometimes a long time.
The thought of sorting and organizing all these papers seems like a daunting task, yet when I think of all the time I have spent looking for a particular piece of paper, it may be one of those it pays off in the long run things. I don't want to be remembered by my boys someday by how long it took them to clean up all my papers. Is there a 12-step program for paper addicts? Maybe I'll give the "set the timer" strategy another shot.
papers to be sorted
papers to be filed
papers to be paid
papers about what I have already paid
papers to be read
papers I have already read but might want to read sometime again
papers I haven't read and probably never will but then again might someday
papers with addresses and e-mails I should use but probably won't
papers with website addresses that sound interesting but will probably never visit
papers with knitting patterns I have already made
papers with knitting patterns I would like to make
papers about meetings
papers from meetings
papers about school
papers from school
papers about great savings if only I would remember to take them to the store with me
papers about things I would like to buy but never will
papers about where the things I need to buy are the cheapest
I have read all the "organize yourself" articles, books, and websites. I probably have some of those articles laying around here somewhere. I know the "handle it once rule". I have file cabinets with hanging folders and labeled folders, alphabetized even. I have an expandable file, I have baskets on shelves, I have 3-ring binders with dividers and paper protectors. I know the "set a timer" strategy. Yet the papers remain - and more keep showing up. They haven't taken over - yet. I do not need to sign up for the crew of "Hoarders" to come to my house - yet.
The papers move frequently. They move from the table to the refrigerator, they move into the "to be filed" pile, from the kitchen to the office, out of my purse to the table, and round and round they go. When do I actually file the "to be filed" pile, another one soon mysterously takes its place.
I tell myself that I am creatively disorganized, that I can locate what I need when I need it. And I usually can. But not without first spending some time going through the things I don't need first, sometimes a long time.
The thought of sorting and organizing all these papers seems like a daunting task, yet when I think of all the time I have spent looking for a particular piece of paper, it may be one of those it pays off in the long run things. I don't want to be remembered by my boys someday by how long it took them to clean up all my papers. Is there a 12-step program for paper addicts? Maybe I'll give the "set the timer" strategy another shot.
Sunday, January 10, 2010
Sunday Morning worship
Sunday morning.....
This is my first post - inspired (or not - if any one reads this you can decide if it is inspired or not!) by a conversation I had yesterday with other womem from my church while planning for an upcoming retreat. One of the topics we were discussing was worship.
It is about time to wake the family up & start the process of getting ready for church. The routine is the same every week. I get up ahead of everyone else, get showered & wake my husband & son, one at a time to use our only bathroom. While every one else is getting ready, I start getting dinner prepared so we can eat as soon as we get home. I am already wondering what to wear & whether it will be a good hair day or not, which or my friends I will see & have a chance to chat with.
With the exception of the late 70's & most of the 80's, I have gone to church on Sunday morning for my whole life. When did church (the building) become synonymous for worship (the action)?
The Israelites had to prepare before they went to the temple to worship the great Jehovah- they had to be cleansed - physically & spiritually. They had special clothes they wore, had sacrifices to make - it was not a let's sleep in as late as we can & then rush in, irritated because they had to rush, at the last possible minute. They planned & made preparations to come before their God.
So when did worship become common place & just a thing you do every Sunday? Is it a sign of the times? Or is it a sign of our hearts?
Don't get me wrong - I love going to church. I love the singing, listening to the Scriptures & the lesson for the day. But I think I will go with a new appreciation of the privilege it is to go & stand before my God & offer my worship to Him.
I have to go now - I have to finish getting prepared to worship.
This is my first post - inspired (or not - if any one reads this you can decide if it is inspired or not!) by a conversation I had yesterday with other womem from my church while planning for an upcoming retreat. One of the topics we were discussing was worship.
It is about time to wake the family up & start the process of getting ready for church. The routine is the same every week. I get up ahead of everyone else, get showered & wake my husband & son, one at a time to use our only bathroom. While every one else is getting ready, I start getting dinner prepared so we can eat as soon as we get home. I am already wondering what to wear & whether it will be a good hair day or not, which or my friends I will see & have a chance to chat with.
With the exception of the late 70's & most of the 80's, I have gone to church on Sunday morning for my whole life. When did church (the building) become synonymous for worship (the action)?
The Israelites had to prepare before they went to the temple to worship the great Jehovah- they had to be cleansed - physically & spiritually. They had special clothes they wore, had sacrifices to make - it was not a let's sleep in as late as we can & then rush in, irritated because they had to rush, at the last possible minute. They planned & made preparations to come before their God.
So when did worship become common place & just a thing you do every Sunday? Is it a sign of the times? Or is it a sign of our hearts?
Don't get me wrong - I love going to church. I love the singing, listening to the Scriptures & the lesson for the day. But I think I will go with a new appreciation of the privilege it is to go & stand before my God & offer my worship to Him.
I have to go now - I have to finish getting prepared to worship.
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