For my pals in Ohio (and lots of other parts of the world), I'm a little late to the party. Here in good ole Michigan, we stretch out summer as long as we can. But today begins the first day of school (cue sinister-sounding music). I, along with most other mamas I know, am anticipating a great new school year. THIS year I will make a wonderful breakfast every morning, nutritious lunches, and dinners equal to the Brady's. My children will skip down the stairs each morning ready to begin a new day and eager to learn. My house will shine and sparkle with cleanliness (due, in part, to these new chore charts I have created), and everyone will be smiling and laughing all day long. My home shall run like a well oiled machine. Yep. Grab me a dress, some heels, an apron and call me June Cleaver. Maybe my other mama friends out there have similar expectations? Anyone????
In reality, my mama friends, we know that in a week or two our great expectations will more than likely be flushed down the toilet. You know... that toilet that has NOT been cleaned (in spite of the new chore chart). So when those days come I say to you this:
For my homeschooling mamas: You CAN do this. On those days when you can't explain how to find a common denominator (so you can FINALLY add these two fractions you've been talking about for an hour) one. more. time...take a deep breath in, Mama. When you look at the clock and realize school took up your whole day; everyone's gonna have to eat Lucky Charms for dinner (hey, they put vitamins and minerals in that stuff. It's practically a health food), and you feel like you've failed your domestic duties...take a deep breath in, Mama. For those days when... for the love of ALL THINGS! WHERE is a pencil and WHAT happened to the fifty notebooks I bought two weeks ago?!!... take a deep breath in, Mama. When you worry that you aren't teaching enough, aren't doing enough, or that YOU are just not enough... take a big, long, deeeeeep breath, Mama. Breathe deep and remember this is only a season-a quick season. In the grand scheme of life, we have only a short time to be with these young humans. Breathe in and remember those days cuddling on the couch with a favorite book together, making a cake volcano, or the first time you realized your child could read-they could REALLY READ-and you were able to be there, teaching them, every step of the way. Breathe in and embrace the repetition of teaching your child the same concept over and over until it finally sinks in, and you get the privilege of seeing that light bulb go off and shine brightly. Breathe out and remember that you're imperfections, do not mean you're a bad mama, they just mean you're a human mama. Give and receive grace. You CAN do this. You can do ALL things through Christ who gives you strength.
For my school away from home mamas: You CAN do this. On those days when you're sending your children out the door for school with a bag of chips for breakfast, because you just simply ran out of time (HEY, it's hard to make a full course meal before the sun even bothers to wake up)... take a deep breath, Mama. When you notice your child climbing onto the bus wearing a short sleeved shirt with NO coat in sight, and the high for the day is going to hit a balmy 40 degrees... take a deep breath, Mama. When you're sitting in that horrible pick-your-kid-up-from-school- line, and you are on the verge of saying EVERY. bad. word. you've ever heard, because really? WHERE did these parents learn how to drive??!!! take a deep breath, Mama. When you are scrambling to get that last kid out the door and for the love of ALL THINGS! WHERE are two clean socks that match (although at this point dirty socks will work too)... take a big, long, deeeeeep breath, Mama. Breathe deep and remember this is only a season-a quick season. Breathe in every Christmas program, every school band concert, every sport game, every awkward school picture day, and every science fair (YOU did a great job on that science fair board, after all; be proud!). Breathe out and remember that you're imperfections become a testimony, to your children, of God's grace. You CAN do this. You can do ALL things through Christ who gives you strength.
For my sending a kid off to college mamas: You CAN do this. On those days when you can't stop worrying and wondering if that man-child of yours is actually remembering that dirty socks and underwear are NOT appropriate room decor... take a deep breath, mama. On those days when you see all those pics of your sweet little girl on Facebook at what looks like a party scene straight out of Animal House, and you wonder if all these tuitions payments you're making are just going toward a very EXPENSIVE party... take a deep breath, Mama. On those days when after months of missing your sweet angel, she comes home with three garbage bags FULL of laundry, which she totally expect you to do (HOW are there SO many bags of clothes???), because college is hard and she must spend her two weeks home sleeping... take a deep breath, Mama. On those days when you sit at home in the quiet and miss the chatter and chaos of having those young humans at home with you, and you feel like your heart is going to shatter... take a big, long, deeeeeep breath, Mama. Breath in and remember this is only a season, and you will adjust. Breath in every phone call, every new experience they share with you, and even every bag of laundry, because they still come home. Breath out and remember that you're imperfections do not inhibit their success. They must find their own way. Trust God. He loves them too (even more than you do). You CAN do this. You can do ALL things through Christ who gives you strength.
As a new school year begins, we mamas need to remember that there is grace to cover our mishaps-which WILL happen, grace to cover our frustrations (and out of control yelling)-which also WILL happen. There is grace to cover our inadequacies, our shortcomings, and our occasional inability to prepare a meal with any nutritional value, find a pencil, or locate a matching pair of socks. There is grace to cover us, Mamas. We need only to humbly approach the throne of grace, and receive the forgiveness, love and grace of the Father who loves us so much.
Let us all extend that same grace to our children, who are all dealing with their own insecurities. Let us be an example of imperfection covered in grace. Let us be real. Let us show love to those young humans on the ugliest of days. They need grace as they navigate this new year too. We mamas need to say to them:
"take a long deeeeeep breath, Child. You CAN do this. You can do ALL things through Christ who gives you strength."
SO as we start a new school year, take a long deeeeeep breath, mamas. Take a long deeeeeep breath children. We CAN do this. We can do ALL things through Christ who gives us strength.
Blessings to all for a successful new school year.
Monday, September 1, 2014
Monday, July 7, 2014
Now I Can See
I love stories.
I especially love stories that touch the heart and soul. I love the stories about the realities of life-from tragedies to triumphs. I love stories that end with truth and justice prevailing. But life's stories don't always have happy endings. And sometimes, while living out our own stories, we are faced with unhappy endings. While we search for answers, sometimes we just come up empty.
I was thinking about one of my favorite Bible stories. It's found in John chapter 9. Here's a recap:
So Jesus is walking along with His disciples and here sits this blind man begging. The disciples ask Jesus who had sinned the man or his parents. What had caused him to be born blind. Jesus says no one sinned, this man is going to be used to display the good works of God. So Jesus spits on some dirt, rubs it on the man's eyes and sends him to wash it off in the pool of Siloam. The man washes and goes home seeing.
So great story, right? Blind beggar with no hope for any kind of future is given a new lease on life. Yay, good wins.
Then come the townspeople, and they start talking... "Hey is this the same dude who was a blind beggar?" "Naw bro, that's not him, he just looks like him" The man says "It's really me. See this Jesus came and he made some mud with dirt and spit, rubbed the stuff on my eyes, and told me to go wash it off over at Siloam. So I did that, and now I can see. Isn't that awesome?"
The townspeople didn't think it was so awesome. It WAS the Sabbath day, after all. They brought the man to the Pharisees who demanded answers. Who was this Jesus, why was He healing on the Sabbath Day, surely He wasn't from God. HOW did he do this? I love the man's response. He's says "I don't know. All I know is that I was blind, and now I can see."
The man's parents didn't want to stand up to the Pharisees, so they gracefully bowed out of the situation and said, "Ask our son yourselves, he's a grown man." So the Pharisees continued to grill the man, asking him all kinds of questions about Jesus. The man pointed out that no one else had ever opened the eyes of a blind man, so this Jesus must be from God. With more and more questions, the man replied in the same way he had all long. I don't know who He is or where He has gone. Here's what I know-I was blind and now I can see." Then the Pharisees, sent him out. Excommunicated. Shunned from the community.
Now I love this next part. Jesus hears they booted the man out and He goes to him.
35 Jesus heard that they had thrown him out, and when he found him, he said, “Do you believe in the Son of Man?”36 “Who is he, sir?” the man asked. “Tell me so that I may believe in him.”37 Jesus said, “You have now seen him; in fact, he is the one speaking with you.”38 Then the man said, “Lord, I believe,” and he worshiped him.
The man didn't attempt to understand complicated theology, he just said "Lord, I believe." He didn't argue theology with the Pharisees. He simply said "All I know is that I was blind and now I can see." Please don't misunderstand, I'm not saying there's no point to theology. Biblical knowledge, studying and understanding the scriptures are important. But sometimes I think we complicate the Gospel. The Gospel simply says "Come, all you who are weary and heavy and I'll give you rest" The gospel says "Jesus will take your story, no matter how tragic or worthless it's been and make it into something new." The gospel may even say "This tragedy is part of your story, but because of that, God is now glorified." The gospel, the GOOD news, isn't to be re-adjusted so it fits into our religious theology. At least not the kind gospel that Jesus presented to the blind man.
With Jesus it really was quite simple. Here's some dirt, some spit and some water to wash it off. Jesus used simple methods to do miraculous things. The man then told his "good news" to others by telling his story of how his whole life was completely changed. "I was blind and now I see."
How often do we keep parts of our story hidden? How might our own stories present the gospel, the good news, to others? How do our triumphs, and yes, even our tragedies point to the beauty of Jesus? Even in the unhappy endings we face in this life, we have a comforter and a community. Even when we search for answers and come up empty, we are filled with the Spirit of the living God. Do we share those things, or do we put on a smile and mask of religious superiority. Are we real, or do we follow a protocol of religion? Do we say "God can help YOU, but I'm good." Do we fail to connect because we don't want to take that risk? Or do we open ourselves up and say, "ya know what? I was lost and this is how Jesus came to me. I was alone and I called out to Jesus and He heard me. I was a train wreck and Jesus put me back on track. Sometimes I am a big bottle of crazy sauce with a side of nuts, but this is how Jesus is still transforming my life. This is my story and it isn't over yet. Because of grace, I can see the beauty of Christ in the world and in every situation that I face in this life. I was blind, but now I see."
See, we can argue theology, we can make our points and drive them home with a page full of scripture to back us up. We can engage in those arguments of theology and life's tough questions so long that the good news of the gospel becomes secondary to making our point. What did Jesus do? He connected with the man in a simple way. What then did the man do? He connected to others with His story. And even though that particular connection got him shunned, Jesus went to him. The good news of gospel may not always be well received, but Jesus will always come to us. And the gospel will always change our lives.
Maybe we don't have all the theological answers, but one thing we do have is our story. Our story of how the love of Jesus has changed our lives, comforted us in the darkness of life's hard times, gave us hope in hopeless situations, and how God is STILL continuing to give us grace and mercy when we least deserve it. Our story can present the gospel in a way that connects us all as people who need Jesus. Connection that says:
“Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. 29Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. 30For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.” -Matthew 11
One thing that no one in the story of this blind man could deny: The man was born blind, and now he could see.
The Bible doesn't tell us anymore about the man and what happened for the rest of his life. I would like to think that when asked about his story, he would continue to answer questions in the same way. "This Jesus changed my life. I'm not really sure how or why He did it; All I know is that I was blind and now I can see."
Share your stories, share yourselves, make connections. The gospel is all about connection anyway, the connection through the finished work of Jesus back to the heart of the Father. If we could put away our arguments just for a minute and connect, maybe the Gospel could be heard in it's purest and most simple form.
"I was blind, but now I can see"
Wednesday, April 9, 2014
Castles of Boxes and Blankets
Hello Blog world. It's been awhile. A long while. I have been neck deep in life- running, doing, stressing, and running some more- much like most of you I'm sure. But I have returned and am determined to write more often (because writing is cheaper than therapy). ;)
My last little guy (who recently turned 9) has been collecting boxes. Hubby receives packages daily for work making the collection grow a rapid pace. I love my children to be creative. Nothing makes me more excited than to watch them step away from TV, gaming, and other electronics and use their imaginations to create. It also makes me a little nutty (yes, more than usual). My last little guy has been building castles, thrones, and fortresses. Ooooooh the mess. Those who know me know that I'm not a neat freak-not even close. I do, however, like to be able to walk through my living room.
We have come to an agreement of sorts. He can collect all the boxes he likes, as long as they do not remain in the middle of the living room. At the end of the day, all the boxes and blankets must be back in his room. He can build whatever he wants to in his own room. Deal? Deal.
He constructed a castle with a fortress using his bunk bed, several boxes, a pole or two (no idea where he found those) and several sheets and blankets. He had a secret passageway to enter and exit. It was cool, but it took up the majority of his room. I thought I'd let him keep it a day or two and ask him to take it down. Then I thought about how short of a time he will be a boy. I thought of how quickly the years pass by without me seeming to notice. I left it alone. He had it up for weeks.
He took it down today to help me clean and reorganize his room, but he is armed with even more boxes and blankets. I helped him collect them this time. See, he wanted to build a larger fortress, so he wanted some things cleaned and taken out of his room. I can't wait to see what the next one will look like.
As I thought about this messy process of constructing a place of refuge, I thought about a refuge that can not be built with boxes and blankets. One that instead comes from God through the death and resurrection of His own son. One that was also a messy process. One that is built right inside of my own heart.
Proverbs 14:26
Whoever fears the LORD has a secure fortress, and for their children it will be a refuge.
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April is National Poetry Month. I thought it apropos to write a little poem for my last little guy.
Building Castles
Build your castle here
Make it strong
Impenetrable
Store all that you hold dear
Inside its walls
Yes, build your castle here
Secure your fortress well
Shield your entries
Exits
Keep out creatures from hell
Scratching and clawing
Yes, secure your fortress well
A mess before completion
Taking up space
Cluttering
The room completely
Is it done
Yes, a mess before completion
A finished work well made
Secure and safe
Secret
A strong, secure blockade
From your enemies
Yes, a finished work well made
Do you feel safe inside
No more afraid
Brave
A haven where you hide
From the shadows
Tell me, do you feel safe inside
You'll be a man one day
No more boxes
Blankets
No more time to play
With pretend fortresses
Yes, you'll be a man one day
Allow God to replace
All your boxes
Blankets
Let Him take up space and
Keep you safe
Yes, Allow God to replace
Build your castle here
Inside your heart
Spirit
Store all that you hold dear
Inside its walls
Yes, build your castle here
Thanks for reading
My last little guy (who recently turned 9) has been collecting boxes. Hubby receives packages daily for work making the collection grow a rapid pace. I love my children to be creative. Nothing makes me more excited than to watch them step away from TV, gaming, and other electronics and use their imaginations to create. It also makes me a little nutty (yes, more than usual). My last little guy has been building castles, thrones, and fortresses. Ooooooh the mess. Those who know me know that I'm not a neat freak-not even close. I do, however, like to be able to walk through my living room.
We have come to an agreement of sorts. He can collect all the boxes he likes, as long as they do not remain in the middle of the living room. At the end of the day, all the boxes and blankets must be back in his room. He can build whatever he wants to in his own room. Deal? Deal.
He constructed a castle with a fortress using his bunk bed, several boxes, a pole or two (no idea where he found those) and several sheets and blankets. He had a secret passageway to enter and exit. It was cool, but it took up the majority of his room. I thought I'd let him keep it a day or two and ask him to take it down. Then I thought about how short of a time he will be a boy. I thought of how quickly the years pass by without me seeming to notice. I left it alone. He had it up for weeks.
He took it down today to help me clean and reorganize his room, but he is armed with even more boxes and blankets. I helped him collect them this time. See, he wanted to build a larger fortress, so he wanted some things cleaned and taken out of his room. I can't wait to see what the next one will look like.
As I thought about this messy process of constructing a place of refuge, I thought about a refuge that can not be built with boxes and blankets. One that instead comes from God through the death and resurrection of His own son. One that was also a messy process. One that is built right inside of my own heart.
Proverbs 14:26
Whoever fears the LORD has a secure fortress, and for their children it will be a refuge.
Yes, I do stand in awe and reverential fear of my Lord, and He is indeed a refuge for my family and me.
Boxes and blankets make a pretty good fortress. But they will one day fail as the boxes become weak and the blankets fall leaving openings in the walls. But the fortress of the Lord will never fail. Whatever may come against our walls, our hearts are covered completely by His hand.
Build away little buddy, and I pray you will come to understand more about the one who builds that fortress right inside your heart.
April is National Poetry Month. I thought it apropos to write a little poem for my last little guy.
Building Castles
Build your castle here
Make it strong
Impenetrable
Store all that you hold dear
Inside its walls
Yes, build your castle here
Secure your fortress well
Shield your entries
Exits
Keep out creatures from hell
Scratching and clawing
Yes, secure your fortress well
A mess before completion
Taking up space
Cluttering
The room completely
Is it done
Yes, a mess before completion
A finished work well made
Secure and safe
Secret
A strong, secure blockade
From your enemies
Yes, a finished work well made
Do you feel safe inside
No more afraid
Brave
A haven where you hide
From the shadows
Tell me, do you feel safe inside
You'll be a man one day
No more boxes
Blankets
No more time to play
With pretend fortresses
Yes, you'll be a man one day
Allow God to replace
All your boxes
Blankets
Let Him take up space and
Keep you safe
Yes, Allow God to replace
Build your castle here
Inside your heart
Spirit
Store all that you hold dear
Inside its walls
Yes, build your castle here
Thanks for reading
Tuesday, August 6, 2013
I get by with a little help from my friends.
What would you think if I sang out of tune,
Would you stand up and walk out on me.
Lend me your ears and I'll sing you a song,
And I'll try not to sing out of key.
I get by with a little help from my friends,
I get high with a little help from my friends,
Going to try with a little help from my friends.-Billy Shears
Would you stand up and walk out on me.
Lend me your ears and I'll sing you a song,
And I'll try not to sing out of key.
I get by with a little help from my friends,
I get high with a little help from my friends,
Going to try with a little help from my friends.-Billy Shears
Tonight I shared a cup of coffee with this girl who grew right into my heart. We first met years ago when she was a young girl and I was just 20 years old. Our lives intersected through her grandparents. Somewhere along the way God placed her right into my heart where she grew to be my heart-daughter. We share memories that bring both tears and laughter. It had been 3/4 of a year since our last visit. Far too long.
I had dinner with some of my friends from high school a couple of weeks ago. These girls-along with one who couldn't make it-were my sanity during my high school years. We studied together, laughed together, ate junk food together, and watched lots of Saturday Night Live together (Party on, Wayne). We all agree that we need to get together more often. So much time passes all too quickly, and before we know it years stretch out between our visits.
When I was very young, someone once told me "if you want to have friends, you have to show yourself to be friendly." I wanted friends. I really really wanted friends, so I prayed and did my very best to be a friend to anyone who'd have me as their friend. God heard that small child's prayer, and I have been blessed throughout my lifetime with some great friends (I also include many family members who are also friends)
Some friends have come and gone. I have learned from them and hope they have learned something from me. It was a really hard thing for me to realize that not everyone comes in your life to stay. I would love it if that were true, but it's not realistic. This I have learned and have made peace with.
Some friends have been around for a really long time. These friends have seen the best of times and worst of times with me. These are the friends that drove my car home for me when I was admitted to the psychiatric hospital, came to visit me there, and most importantly didn't treat me any differently when I was released. I felt like the whole world thought I was crazy, and wouldn't want anything to do with me anymore. There were some friends that avoided me after my stays in the psych. hospital. But these girls, my friends, they treated me the same as always. We've been together through school and learning to drive a car and boyfriends and marriages and babies and heartache and hard times and good times and are still able to laugh and enjoy one another. It is a rare blessing for us all to stay in touch for so many years. For these friends, I am grateful
Some friends are more recent. We've shared child rearing advice and play dates and Bible studies and prayer groups and homeschooling ideas and Sunday afternoon gatherings and lots of tears and lots of laughter. It is a blessing to have made so many friends who want to walk out this life with me. For these friends, I am grateful.
There are friends we pour our heart and soul out to and they gather us up, hold us close and pour right back into us so we don't run dry. There are friends who trust us enough to share the broken pieces of their life with us and we scoop them up and march them straight to the throne of grace. We place them at the feet of Jesus, who is the only one who can piece them together, and we pick up each piece and hand it to Jesus until the work is finished. There are friends who listen tirelessly as we cry and yell and scream and they look us right in the face and speak truth and grace and love to us. They hold us up when we can not stand for one more minute. They make us laugh when we only want to cry. They forgive us when we have PMS and are beyond crabby. They support us even when we head off in a different direction than they are walking. They love us. We love them. What a blessing it is to have and be a friend. For these friends, I am so grateful.
So many days seem to be passing so quickly and I find myself with less time than I have things I need to do. I don't have the time to spend with my friends the way I'd like to. There are precious friends of mine that I haven't seen in so long. There never seems to be enough time during this season of my life. There is always so many things to do, children's sports and work and schooling and and and... Somehow I'd like to stop it all, just for a little while and catch up with those friends I haven't seen in a while. We always part with the promise to not wait so long to meet up again, but the years seem to pass us all right on by.
I'm grateful for facebook and email which have shortened miles and helped keep the connection I have with many friends. I'm grateful for each friend I've had in my life-whether you've come and gone, or come and stayed. I'm grateful for those friends who have seen the deepest parts of my heart and held me and prayed with me. I'm grateful for those friends who trust me enough to share their hearts with me. God has sprinkled my path of life with just the right people at just the right time, so I could love and be loved, so I could have friends and be a friend to others. For this, I am so very grateful.
Thanks for reading.
I had dinner with some of my friends from high school a couple of weeks ago. These girls-along with one who couldn't make it-were my sanity during my high school years. We studied together, laughed together, ate junk food together, and watched lots of Saturday Night Live together (Party on, Wayne). We all agree that we need to get together more often. So much time passes all too quickly, and before we know it years stretch out between our visits.
When I was very young, someone once told me "if you want to have friends, you have to show yourself to be friendly." I wanted friends. I really really wanted friends, so I prayed and did my very best to be a friend to anyone who'd have me as their friend. God heard that small child's prayer, and I have been blessed throughout my lifetime with some great friends (I also include many family members who are also friends)
Some friends have come and gone. I have learned from them and hope they have learned something from me. It was a really hard thing for me to realize that not everyone comes in your life to stay. I would love it if that were true, but it's not realistic. This I have learned and have made peace with.
Some friends have been around for a really long time. These friends have seen the best of times and worst of times with me. These are the friends that drove my car home for me when I was admitted to the psychiatric hospital, came to visit me there, and most importantly didn't treat me any differently when I was released. I felt like the whole world thought I was crazy, and wouldn't want anything to do with me anymore. There were some friends that avoided me after my stays in the psych. hospital. But these girls, my friends, they treated me the same as always. We've been together through school and learning to drive a car and boyfriends and marriages and babies and heartache and hard times and good times and are still able to laugh and enjoy one another. It is a rare blessing for us all to stay in touch for so many years. For these friends, I am grateful
Some friends are more recent. We've shared child rearing advice and play dates and Bible studies and prayer groups and homeschooling ideas and Sunday afternoon gatherings and lots of tears and lots of laughter. It is a blessing to have made so many friends who want to walk out this life with me. For these friends, I am grateful.
There are friends we pour our heart and soul out to and they gather us up, hold us close and pour right back into us so we don't run dry. There are friends who trust us enough to share the broken pieces of their life with us and we scoop them up and march them straight to the throne of grace. We place them at the feet of Jesus, who is the only one who can piece them together, and we pick up each piece and hand it to Jesus until the work is finished. There are friends who listen tirelessly as we cry and yell and scream and they look us right in the face and speak truth and grace and love to us. They hold us up when we can not stand for one more minute. They make us laugh when we only want to cry. They forgive us when we have PMS and are beyond crabby. They support us even when we head off in a different direction than they are walking. They love us. We love them. What a blessing it is to have and be a friend. For these friends, I am so grateful.
So many days seem to be passing so quickly and I find myself with less time than I have things I need to do. I don't have the time to spend with my friends the way I'd like to. There are precious friends of mine that I haven't seen in so long. There never seems to be enough time during this season of my life. There is always so many things to do, children's sports and work and schooling and and and... Somehow I'd like to stop it all, just for a little while and catch up with those friends I haven't seen in a while. We always part with the promise to not wait so long to meet up again, but the years seem to pass us all right on by.
I'm grateful for facebook and email which have shortened miles and helped keep the connection I have with many friends. I'm grateful for each friend I've had in my life-whether you've come and gone, or come and stayed. I'm grateful for those friends who have seen the deepest parts of my heart and held me and prayed with me. I'm grateful for those friends who trust me enough to share their hearts with me. God has sprinkled my path of life with just the right people at just the right time, so I could love and be loved, so I could have friends and be a friend to others. For this, I am so very grateful.
Thanks for reading.
Friday, May 31, 2013
On turning 40...
Forty isn't old, if you're a tree-anonymous
Today I turn 40, the big 4-0. I'd love to impress you with all the cool things I did to usher in a new decade, but I spent the last day of my 30s pretty uneventfully. I cleaned some things around the house, did some laundry, got myself a coffee on my way into work, and spent the afternoon and evening at work-with people MUCH older than 40. Suddenly, 40 didn't seem so old after all. Ahhh, perspective. After work, I came home and said "goodbye" to my 30s. I thought about some things. I thought about a lot of things.
I clearly remember when I was about to turn 30. That was a hard birthday. I knew I was supposed to really be a grown up and have my act together at 30, but I wasn't even anywhere close to having much of anything together. I thought, well maybe I'd have it figured out when I hit 40. Now I'm 40 and the more I learn the less I feel I really know.
But that's OK. At 40 I'm not thinking about how I'm going to figure things out anymore. I don't need to. Figuring things out isn't really working for me. Trusting and believing and staying true to the One who knit me together, planned out every one of my days, and wrote them in a book before I was even born-that's where I need to keep my focus. (Psalm 139:13-16) Even when I don't understand, I just need to keep walking-walking ahead, walking through the pain in the night and walking in the joy that comes in the morning, walking through "goodbyes", walking through endings, walking through new beginnings, walking in the wind and rain and sunshine and warm breezes alike, walking the course that has been set before me, and following the examples of those who are faithful in their walk and those who have been faithful and have finished their course. Just walking faithfully in His plan for my life, no matter what lies ahead.
I am blessed to have others that link their arms with mine and choose to walk with me. God has made us and fashioned us for relationships, with Himself and with each other. I'm grateful for those I call friends(family included). One of my heart-sister friends introduced me, some time ago, to Patty Griffin (one of my favorite artists) She has this song called 10 million miles, that I love love love.
"I must've walked 10 million miles" and I'm sure I have at least as many miles left to walk. And so even when I don't understand my path I must keep walking. When the clouds are blocking the light and I don't know which way this path is leading, when I can only see directly in front of me, I must keep walking. My friends, let us walk on in the path that is set before us. Let's not veer off, even if another way looks better, even if the path we are on is suddenly looking pretty scary, even if we lose people along the way, even if our path is rough and we see pain up ahead, let us stay the course. Because we know that He works ALL things out for our good when we love Him and are called according to His purpose (Romans 8:28) Even when we may feel alone, let's remember that He has promised to never leave or forsake us (Hebrews 13:5).
At 40 years old I am so grateful that I have never walked a single mile alone. Thank you to all my friends who have walked with me. I "search for your sweet face" as I walk, for encouragement to keep on keepin' on.
And friends, if I should start to repeat to you the same story I told you yesterday, or start discussing my popping knee joint and sore back, or worse yet, continuously discuss how often my bowels move, all I can say is I'm 40 and walking 10 million miles takes its toll.
Thanks for reading.
Today I turn 40, the big 4-0. I'd love to impress you with all the cool things I did to usher in a new decade, but I spent the last day of my 30s pretty uneventfully. I cleaned some things around the house, did some laundry, got myself a coffee on my way into work, and spent the afternoon and evening at work-with people MUCH older than 40. Suddenly, 40 didn't seem so old after all. Ahhh, perspective. After work, I came home and said "goodbye" to my 30s. I thought about some things. I thought about a lot of things.
I clearly remember when I was about to turn 30. That was a hard birthday. I knew I was supposed to really be a grown up and have my act together at 30, but I wasn't even anywhere close to having much of anything together. I thought, well maybe I'd have it figured out when I hit 40. Now I'm 40 and the more I learn the less I feel I really know.
But that's OK. At 40 I'm not thinking about how I'm going to figure things out anymore. I don't need to. Figuring things out isn't really working for me. Trusting and believing and staying true to the One who knit me together, planned out every one of my days, and wrote them in a book before I was even born-that's where I need to keep my focus. (Psalm 139:13-16) Even when I don't understand, I just need to keep walking-walking ahead, walking through the pain in the night and walking in the joy that comes in the morning, walking through "goodbyes", walking through endings, walking through new beginnings, walking in the wind and rain and sunshine and warm breezes alike, walking the course that has been set before me, and following the examples of those who are faithful in their walk and those who have been faithful and have finished their course. Just walking faithfully in His plan for my life, no matter what lies ahead.
I am blessed to have others that link their arms with mine and choose to walk with me. God has made us and fashioned us for relationships, with Himself and with each other. I'm grateful for those I call friends(family included). One of my heart-sister friends introduced me, some time ago, to Patty Griffin (one of my favorite artists) She has this song called 10 million miles, that I love love love.
"I must've walked 10 million miles" and I'm sure I have at least as many miles left to walk. And so even when I don't understand my path I must keep walking. When the clouds are blocking the light and I don't know which way this path is leading, when I can only see directly in front of me, I must keep walking. My friends, let us walk on in the path that is set before us. Let's not veer off, even if another way looks better, even if the path we are on is suddenly looking pretty scary, even if we lose people along the way, even if our path is rough and we see pain up ahead, let us stay the course. Because we know that He works ALL things out for our good when we love Him and are called according to His purpose (Romans 8:28) Even when we may feel alone, let's remember that He has promised to never leave or forsake us (Hebrews 13:5).
At 40 years old I am so grateful that I have never walked a single mile alone. Thank you to all my friends who have walked with me. I "search for your sweet face" as I walk, for encouragement to keep on keepin' on.
And friends, if I should start to repeat to you the same story I told you yesterday, or start discussing my popping knee joint and sore back, or worse yet, continuously discuss how often my bowels move, all I can say is I'm 40 and walking 10 million miles takes its toll.
Tuesday, May 28, 2013
The Search for Change
Because we are the Body of the Wounded Healer and we are the people who believe the impossible— that wounds can be openings to the beauty in us. We’re the people who say: there’s no shame saying that your heart and head are broken because there’s a Doctor in the house. It’s the wisest and the bravest who cry for help when lost. There’s no stigma in saying you’re sick because there’s a wounded Healer who uses nails to buy freedom and crosses to resurrect hope and medicine to make miracles. There’s no guilt in mental illness because depression is a kind of cancer that attacks the mind. You don’t shame cancer, you treat cancer. You don’t treat those with hurting insides as less than. You get them the most treatment.-Ann Voskamp
May is Mental Health Awareness Month. Can I get WOO HOO? Yea, not so much, right? Who wants to bring to attention those ugly things that attack our minds? Too often we turn away from people, and sometimes even ourselves, who are plagued with mental illness. We would never say to a man with a broken leg, "Hey, you. I want you to run" and then criticize him because he didn't run fast enough, balanced enough, or well enough. And yet we say to others whose minds are just as broken, "Hey, don't feel that way" or "just count your blessings" or worse yet "You are a Christian, you're not supposed to be this way." Oh, I think we mean well, we just don't necessarily want to get our hands dirty. I'm certainly not suggesting that everyone get involved in helping people who suffer with mental illness. Not everyone is cut out for that. What I am suggesting is that we, as a society, and especially as those who are believers in Christ, stop drawing our own conclusions and sitting in judgement of things we just don't understand. And maybe extend a little grace and kindness to those who are suffering, rather than more blame and shame on them for a condition they can't control.
On my way home from a Dr. appointment, in utter frustration, I called my sister. I cried and yelled and told her how it wasn't fair, how I didn't want to take medicine my whole life long because I couldn't control my mind. I told her I don't mind taking medicine for my stomach, because that's physical, but this...this is because I'm crazy?! Why can't I just be better, just make myself not go up and down like a yo-yo, Just not have panic attacks, just go places and live my life without this constant inner turmoil and struggle to live?? Everyone's going to see that I'm different. They are going to say it's all my fault that I'm like this" And She, being her, said "SO WHAT! They don't know you, it doesn't matter what they think. And just because you can't see it doesn't mean it's not broken." Yes. She's right. Just because we can't see it, doesn't mean it's not broken.
Some days are hard and I wish I were anyone but me. I wish I were strong and brave and free. I down right wish myself away and pray for a better girl, a better wife, a better friend, and a better mother to come in and take my place. I wrote this down one day when I was searching for change, desperate to rid myself of some of the yuck-that is me. Instead, I found a grace large enough to cover all of who I am. I believe in a God who heals, and I believe in a God who covers us with grace while He does the healing in His time. And in the meantime...His grace is sufficient for me and His strength is made perfect in my weakness, so I'm going to fly my freak flag high and proud about my weakness, because it's then that His power rests on me. (2 Corinthians 12:9-paraphrased-pretty sure 'flying my freak flag' isn't in any version...yet). Let us be aware of those who are buckling under the weight of a broken mind, and offer them the One who heals our wounds with His own.
The Search for Change
I went and stood outside in the sun
Hoping to quench the darkness
Hoping its rays would warm the chill
I stood there awhile
But the darkness was too deep
The chill was too cold
I stood in the sun unchanged
I went and stood outside in the wind
Hoping to rid myself of the gnawing guilt
Hoping its gale would blow away my failings
I stood there awhile
But the guilt was too heavy
My failings too many
I stood in the wind unchanged
I went and stood outside in the rain
Hoping to drowned the shame
Hoping the downpour would wash away who I am
I stood there awhile
But the torrent wasn't enough to loosen the grip
Shame had attached itself too tightly
I stood in the rain unchanged
I went and stood under a tree on a hill
Hoping it would illuminate the darkness
Hoping it would take away the guilt and shame
I stood there awhile
Grace poured down and saturated the darkness, guilt and shame
Grace that was brighter, stronger and heavier than all I had become
I stood at the cross forever changed.
Thanks for reading.
May is Mental Health Awareness Month. Can I get WOO HOO? Yea, not so much, right? Who wants to bring to attention those ugly things that attack our minds? Too often we turn away from people, and sometimes even ourselves, who are plagued with mental illness. We would never say to a man with a broken leg, "Hey, you. I want you to run" and then criticize him because he didn't run fast enough, balanced enough, or well enough. And yet we say to others whose minds are just as broken, "Hey, don't feel that way" or "just count your blessings" or worse yet "You are a Christian, you're not supposed to be this way." Oh, I think we mean well, we just don't necessarily want to get our hands dirty. I'm certainly not suggesting that everyone get involved in helping people who suffer with mental illness. Not everyone is cut out for that. What I am suggesting is that we, as a society, and especially as those who are believers in Christ, stop drawing our own conclusions and sitting in judgement of things we just don't understand. And maybe extend a little grace and kindness to those who are suffering, rather than more blame and shame on them for a condition they can't control.
On my way home from a Dr. appointment, in utter frustration, I called my sister. I cried and yelled and told her how it wasn't fair, how I didn't want to take medicine my whole life long because I couldn't control my mind. I told her I don't mind taking medicine for my stomach, because that's physical, but this...this is because I'm crazy?! Why can't I just be better, just make myself not go up and down like a yo-yo, Just not have panic attacks, just go places and live my life without this constant inner turmoil and struggle to live?? Everyone's going to see that I'm different. They are going to say it's all my fault that I'm like this" And She, being her, said "SO WHAT! They don't know you, it doesn't matter what they think. And just because you can't see it doesn't mean it's not broken." Yes. She's right. Just because we can't see it, doesn't mean it's not broken.
Some days are hard and I wish I were anyone but me. I wish I were strong and brave and free. I down right wish myself away and pray for a better girl, a better wife, a better friend, and a better mother to come in and take my place. I wrote this down one day when I was searching for change, desperate to rid myself of some of the yuck-that is me. Instead, I found a grace large enough to cover all of who I am. I believe in a God who heals, and I believe in a God who covers us with grace while He does the healing in His time. And in the meantime...His grace is sufficient for me and His strength is made perfect in my weakness, so I'm going to fly my freak flag high and proud about my weakness, because it's then that His power rests on me. (2 Corinthians 12:9-paraphrased-pretty sure 'flying my freak flag' isn't in any version...yet). Let us be aware of those who are buckling under the weight of a broken mind, and offer them the One who heals our wounds with His own.
The Search for Change
I went and stood outside in the sun
Hoping to quench the darkness
Hoping its rays would warm the chill
I stood there awhile
But the darkness was too deep
The chill was too cold
I stood in the sun unchanged
I went and stood outside in the wind
Hoping to rid myself of the gnawing guilt
Hoping its gale would blow away my failings
I stood there awhile
But the guilt was too heavy
My failings too many
I stood in the wind unchanged
I went and stood outside in the rain
Hoping to drowned the shame
Hoping the downpour would wash away who I am
I stood there awhile
But the torrent wasn't enough to loosen the grip
Shame had attached itself too tightly
I stood in the rain unchanged
I went and stood under a tree on a hill
Hoping it would illuminate the darkness
Hoping it would take away the guilt and shame
I stood there awhile
Grace poured down and saturated the darkness, guilt and shame
Grace that was brighter, stronger and heavier than all I had become
I stood at the cross forever changed.
Thanks for reading.
Thursday, May 9, 2013
In that moment
Forever is composed of nows.-Emily Dickinson
Hello there.
I realize that it has been a looooong time since my last blog post. I apologize to my faithful followers (all 13 of you). I'm sure you have beenthankful missing these brilliant posts of mine ;) I'd like to say that I was much too busy climbing mountains, sailing the high seas, or finding a cure for cancer to blog, but truthfully I have been busy adjusting. Adjusting. yep. That's it. Unimpressed? Yea, me too, but that's the truth. I won't bore you with the details of how my life has changed this last year. I will, however, share with you something I've learned.
I work, part time, as a nurse's aid in a nursing home. The people I care for are in advanced stage dementia. Dementia includes Alzheimers as well as several other diseases that cause the brain to literally stop functioning. It is a terrible thing to watch a person slowly lose their ability to do a simple task such as washing their face. You watch and care for them as they go from semi-independent to completely dependent and then you watch and care for them as they die. I've worked at this place for a little less than a year, and we've had 13 deaths. It's heartbreaking.
These are men and women you don't see out in society. These are men and women who in a values clarification class would be thrown off the lifeboat. These are men and women spending their last days here on earth forgetting all they have ever known. And yet, these are men and women of great value. They have purpose. They are great teachers. If you look beyond the surface of their weaknesses, you can see that in them lies a treasure.
When I first began working with this people group, I was very discouraged. I was wondering how I could possibly make any lasting difference in their lives when I knew that they would probably not even remember my name the next time I came into work. I thought what a defeating job this is. What does anything I do with them even matter if they will never remember anything. I remember praying and asking what the purpose of this could possibly be. When everything you build with these people is torn down within minutes, what good could I ever be to this people group?
That day, the day I asked that question, I received an answer. For that moment. That was the answer. For that moment. And what I had to do was change the way I viewed the work I was doing-and life I was living. Maybe I wasn't building relationships that would be remembered for days or even hours, but I was giving love and care for that moment. And for those who suffer with dementia, that moment is all they have. And so when I grab the hand of a sweet elder and look into their eyes as they are babbling nonsensically and I nod my head and say "Ok, that sounds good" or some other various form of a response, in that moment that elder knows that they are important enough to be heard, they are seen and worth paying attention to, and they are valuable enough to be loved. Maybe in 10 minutes they will not remember what happened, but in each moment spent listening, caring, loving I can share the love of Christ.
Some remember me. Some remember my face, but not my name. Some think I'm somebody else and they are so glad to see me when I come, because they've been waiting for me for a long time. It doesn't matter to me anymore what they remember, or who they think I am, because when I'm with them we live together only in that moment. And if in that moment I can help them feel important, valued and loved just for who they are in that moment, then that counts.
I have been learning, as I continue to work with these sweet elders, that sometimes, well LOTS of times, I try look too far ahead. I wonder what the lasting impact of each day will be. I attempt to live for the future. In that, lots of times I miss what's happening in that moment. I can't hear the laughter of my children, because I'm too busy worrying about preparing them for their future. I can't smell the spring blossoms in the air because I'm too busy thinking about work I need to get to. I miss opportunities to show my children that I love and value them for who they are right now in this moment, when I'm too focused on preparing them for the future. I miss the blessing of God's gift of spring smells and songs from the birds when I'm focused on getting on with my day.
I have learned that love given and love received counts, even if it is only remembered in that moment. I have learned that laughter is indeed good medicine and a good sense of humor is essential when working with this group of people. I have learned that gifts from God come in the strangest of packages. The gift of learning to stop and live in this moment has come to me in a package of worn out bodies and wrinkled faces. It has come to me in laughter and singing from a woman who, while she can't feed herself, she can still teach me that love happens in that moment that I stop to receive it. When a hand worn by time reaches out to grab mine, I receive that gift. When the arms of one who has carried nine babies and lived a full life reach out to hug me, I receive that gift. The gift of the now is continually presented to me every time I walk through those doors. Now is all they have, and really isn't it also all we have? All this I have learned from these elders.
AT work this afternoon we had a Mother's Day Tea Party. Some family members of the elders joined us as we celebrated life with tea and sweets. Some family members brought pictures of their mothers that were taken years ago, in a different time. Before time had worn out their bodies and this wretched disease had stolen their minds. These people I care for were once young and strong. Some were lawyers, judges, nurses, teachers, mothers, fathers. They were all people of purpose. While they are no longer young and their bodies no longer strong, they are still people of purpose. Because until we take our last breath here on this earth, we all still have purpose. And our purpose is fulfilled one moment at a time.
Yes, Emily, forever is composed of nows. I am thankful that these elders are teaching me just how to live in that moment.
Thanks for reading.
Hello there.
I realize that it has been a looooong time since my last blog post. I apologize to my faithful followers (all 13 of you). I'm sure you have been
I work, part time, as a nurse's aid in a nursing home. The people I care for are in advanced stage dementia. Dementia includes Alzheimers as well as several other diseases that cause the brain to literally stop functioning. It is a terrible thing to watch a person slowly lose their ability to do a simple task such as washing their face. You watch and care for them as they go from semi-independent to completely dependent and then you watch and care for them as they die. I've worked at this place for a little less than a year, and we've had 13 deaths. It's heartbreaking.
These are men and women you don't see out in society. These are men and women who in a values clarification class would be thrown off the lifeboat. These are men and women spending their last days here on earth forgetting all they have ever known. And yet, these are men and women of great value. They have purpose. They are great teachers. If you look beyond the surface of their weaknesses, you can see that in them lies a treasure.
When I first began working with this people group, I was very discouraged. I was wondering how I could possibly make any lasting difference in their lives when I knew that they would probably not even remember my name the next time I came into work. I thought what a defeating job this is. What does anything I do with them even matter if they will never remember anything. I remember praying and asking what the purpose of this could possibly be. When everything you build with these people is torn down within minutes, what good could I ever be to this people group?
That day, the day I asked that question, I received an answer. For that moment. That was the answer. For that moment. And what I had to do was change the way I viewed the work I was doing-and life I was living. Maybe I wasn't building relationships that would be remembered for days or even hours, but I was giving love and care for that moment. And for those who suffer with dementia, that moment is all they have. And so when I grab the hand of a sweet elder and look into their eyes as they are babbling nonsensically and I nod my head and say "Ok, that sounds good" or some other various form of a response, in that moment that elder knows that they are important enough to be heard, they are seen and worth paying attention to, and they are valuable enough to be loved. Maybe in 10 minutes they will not remember what happened, but in each moment spent listening, caring, loving I can share the love of Christ.
Some remember me. Some remember my face, but not my name. Some think I'm somebody else and they are so glad to see me when I come, because they've been waiting for me for a long time. It doesn't matter to me anymore what they remember, or who they think I am, because when I'm with them we live together only in that moment. And if in that moment I can help them feel important, valued and loved just for who they are in that moment, then that counts.
I have been learning, as I continue to work with these sweet elders, that sometimes, well LOTS of times, I try look too far ahead. I wonder what the lasting impact of each day will be. I attempt to live for the future. In that, lots of times I miss what's happening in that moment. I can't hear the laughter of my children, because I'm too busy worrying about preparing them for their future. I can't smell the spring blossoms in the air because I'm too busy thinking about work I need to get to. I miss opportunities to show my children that I love and value them for who they are right now in this moment, when I'm too focused on preparing them for the future. I miss the blessing of God's gift of spring smells and songs from the birds when I'm focused on getting on with my day.
I have learned that love given and love received counts, even if it is only remembered in that moment. I have learned that laughter is indeed good medicine and a good sense of humor is essential when working with this group of people. I have learned that gifts from God come in the strangest of packages. The gift of learning to stop and live in this moment has come to me in a package of worn out bodies and wrinkled faces. It has come to me in laughter and singing from a woman who, while she can't feed herself, she can still teach me that love happens in that moment that I stop to receive it. When a hand worn by time reaches out to grab mine, I receive that gift. When the arms of one who has carried nine babies and lived a full life reach out to hug me, I receive that gift. The gift of the now is continually presented to me every time I walk through those doors. Now is all they have, and really isn't it also all we have? All this I have learned from these elders.
AT work this afternoon we had a Mother's Day Tea Party. Some family members of the elders joined us as we celebrated life with tea and sweets. Some family members brought pictures of their mothers that were taken years ago, in a different time. Before time had worn out their bodies and this wretched disease had stolen their minds. These people I care for were once young and strong. Some were lawyers, judges, nurses, teachers, mothers, fathers. They were all people of purpose. While they are no longer young and their bodies no longer strong, they are still people of purpose. Because until we take our last breath here on this earth, we all still have purpose. And our purpose is fulfilled one moment at a time.
Yes, Emily, forever is composed of nows. I am thankful that these elders are teaching me just how to live in that moment.
Thanks for reading.
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