Oy, I'm tired.

I'm likely to be rambling a bit... I went in to work at 11am yesterday morning and didn't get to leave until 6:30am. 19 1/2 hours. Then I slept a little less than an hour before going to church.

Yep. :::yawn:::

I don't really have anything profound to say... or anything pretending to be profound. Oh well. My blog, right?

Can you believe Christmas is over? It's funny how we spend days and weeks anticipating the build up to a single day... and then in a mere 24 hours, it's over. :::poof!::: Piles of wrapping paper and ribbons, tins full of half-eaten Christmas goodies, leftovers in the fridge, and (if you have kids) new toys scattered everywhere.

Time for the New Year - and resolutions, if you do that kind of thing.
Then Valentine's Day.
Then...
Isn't it interesting how so much of our lives are marked out by holidays?

Anyhoo... rambling.
I'm tired.

And I just fell asleep with my hands on the keyboard... half a page of (now deleted) periods later... =0) I think I should go to sleep.
'Night!!

Confessions of a Crazy Person

Yes, more in the melodramatic saga of my recent trips into insanity...


At some point in the last few weeks - past experiences to the contrary - I decided that perhaps my life was such a miserable stinkhole because I left my husband. I thought that maybe things have been so difficult over the last four years because God was punishing me. Maybe it would all stop if I just went back.


"Maybe I did make it up... or overexaggerate... or miscommunicate...."
Maybe things would get better if I just went back.


In the wee hours of Wednesday morning I learned how foolish that thinking had been.


I'm physically ok. I put myself in an impossible situation with very few options. I got hurt, but not in a way that can really be quantified. Whatever choices I didn't have, I made plenty of choices to get there. And then, to my complete embarrassment, I had to call someone for a rescue at 3 o'clock in the morning who I swore I'd never turn to again.

Something else I learned... friendships can change drastically, but that doesn't mean they should end entirely. Some people will be there no matter how stupid you've been - no matter how badly you've messed up. Those people are priceless.

I'd be crazy to throw that away.

The world loves our Christmas...

... why don't they love our Christ?

It's easy to place the blame on the world... they're selfish, they're commercialized, they're... a million other things that we would be without God's grace.

But doesn't the blame lay as much on us as it does on a fallen world?

The world loves our Christmas... because at the core of every carol - secular or sacred - is a message of peace and joy. Who doesn't want a bit of joy to overcome the sorrows of life? Who doesn't want a little peace to reign over conflict?

So if the world loves His message, why doesn't the world love our Christ?

Perhaps because we fail to show them that HE is the source of peace and joy in our own lives. We don't live like we can rest in the joy of our salvation and can trust in the Prince of Peace. I don't live like I can rest in joy or trust in peace.

Do you?

We sing songs about goodwill to men, but fight amongst ourselves as though we've never experienced God's love.
We sing songs about the thrill of hope, but give up and turn from God at the smallest challenge to our faith.
We sing songs about tidings of comfort and joy, but we complain and worry and whine about everything under the sun.
We sing about the King of Kings, but refuse to yield our will to His and follow His commands.

By "we," I mean me.

I'm sitting here tonight replaying my choices over the last few months - over the last year, really... and I don't like what I see. As I look at my life I see a woman who has given in to despair, has strayed from what is right and has been a stumbling block in the lives of others. I see someone who talks a good talk... but who hasn't bothered to actually get up and walk for a very long time.

Maybe, just maybe, the world doesn't love Christ because - from what they see - we don't love Him either? Maybe they look at us and see people who love our Christmas more than we love our Christ?

Something to think about.

Clean Heart

Psalm 51: 1-17
1 Have mercy on me, O God,
according to your unfailing love;
according to your great compassion
blot out my transgressions.

2 Wash away all my iniquity
and cleanse me from my sin.

3 For I know my transgressions,
and my sin is always before me.

4 Against you, you only, have I sinned
and done what is evil in your sight,
so that you are proved right when you speak
and justified when you judge.

5 Surely I was sinful at birth,
sinful from the time my mother conceived me.

6 Surely you desire truth in the inner parts;
you teach me wisdom in the inmost place.

7 Cleanse me with hyssop, and I will be clean;
wash me, and I will be whiter than snow.

8 Let me hear joy and gladness;
let the bones you have crushed rejoice.

9 Hide your face from my sins
and blot out all my iniquity.

10 Create in me a pure heart, O God,
and renew a steadfast spirit within me.

11 Do not cast me from your presence
or take your Holy Spirit from me.

12 Restore to me the joy of your salvation
and grant me a willing spirit, to sustain me.

13 Then I will teach transgressors your ways,
and sinners will turn back to you.

14 Save me from bloodguilt, O God,
the God who saves me,
and my tongue will sing of your righteousness.

15 O Lord, open my lips,
and my mouth will declare your praise.

16 You do not delight in sacrifice, or I would bring it;
you do not take pleasure in burnt offerings.

17 The sacrifices of God are a broken spirit;
a broken and contrite heart,
O God, you will not despise.

And God... I need You and your mercy so much.

More on "Crazy"

About a week ago I mentioned that I was contemplating something totally crazy... the wise side of my mind was telling me that it would be a really bad idea. The impulsive, devil-may-care side of me was saying, "What the heck?" And another part of me... shut down.

My ex-husband called me at the beginning of last week and I answered the phone (first mistake). Because of our history, I try to limit our contact to text messages. He said he wanted to talk to me about a situation that had come up regarding the kids. It didn't take long before the topic of conversation had strayed in a totally different direction.

My ex-husband - who is currently engaged - has decided he wants to try working things out between us. Seriously?

The phone conversation did not go well - there was a lot of minimizing what I experienced and how it impacted my life. There was a lot of, "When you think about it, what happened between us really wasn't that big a deal." Because seven years of abuse really isn't all that significant, is it?

At some point, while he got into very descriptive detail, I shut down. Too much was being triggered and fear kicked in I was thinking, "I can't end this conversation, I can't make him mad, I can't disagree with him. This isn't safe!" I "ran" the only way I knew how. I couldn't stand up for myself and what I knew to be true. Honestly, in that state of mind it didn't seem so true anymore.

I was that scared, helpless battered woman again... who had been convinced that the worst of the abuse was all in my mind. And as that woman, when he asked me to meet him for breakfast, I didn't feel like I could refuse.

Then I felt stupid, and angry at myself. Worthless. Incompetant. Weak. (Wow, that tape sounds familiar). Somewhere in that anger, even though I knew what would happen, I decided I didn't care... So what? "I'm going to get hurt in one way or another, but so what?" I guess I decided my weakness deserved punishment. Maybe I thought I'd learn my lesson (stop shutting down and giving in) if I faced the consequences of it.

I could have texted him and cancelled. Should have. Didn't.

So I met him for breakfast. We ate (well, mostly he ate). He talked. I heard more about how our past wasn't as bad as we (meaning I) made it out to be. As the "conversation" continued I felt smaller and smaller and smaller. I let some things happen that should never happen and... it wasn't ok.

Yes, I punished myself... but I'm pretty sure it didn't work. I made myself feel small, and feeling small doesn't help me stand up.

Talk about self-sabotage. I've set myself up for weeks - months? - of phone calls and texts about how hopeful he is for us and how much he still loves me and how wrong it was that I left him but how great it is I'm ready to make that right.

I've heard insanity defined as doing the same thing over and over again but expecting a different result....
I think I might be crazy.

My Babies... who aren't so babyish anymore.

They're beautiful, sweet, funny, loving and far too smart for my own good. These are my treasures.

I've made a lot of mistakes in their lives and I never cease to be amazed at their capacity for forgiveness. They love me and they trust me, but most importantly, they all love and trust the Lord. I can't ask for much more than that.

Friends with Benefits

"Everything is permissible for me"—but not everything is beneficial.
"Everything is permissible for me"—but I will not be mastered by anything. 1 Cor. 6:12




This verse begins a passage on sexual immorality but despite the post title, that's not where this post is headed. Forgive my tangent from proper context and my play on words. I don't want to talk about morality - instead I want to talk about friendship.

I've had a lot of reasons to contemplate friendship over the last two weeks. None of them very pleasant, but the contemplation was necessary... and perhaps God was using this season to finally force me to see what I had ignored for so long.

I have a difficult time with friendship. I struggle to make friends, rarely get close to the friends I have and on those very few occasions where I allow myself to get close, the relationship becomes so intense (on my part) that it is unsustainable. Either I get sick of them or they get sick of me. No one can meet the expectations I put on them... no one can bear the burden I ask them to bear.

There is such a thing as sharing too much.

Sharing yourself is permissible - encouraged even - but it isn't always beneficial. There are some things that should stay in your own head. Or at least in mine.

Those friends who love me don't want to hear about every insecurity and irrational thought - it's draining. They don't really want to know that I'm sure they're eventually going to walk away. They don't really want to be in constant contact about every little crisis I make into a huge one. It isn't because they don't care; instead it's because it's exhausting and hurtful to be inundated with misery.

And no one wants to be told over and over again that I don't really trust them. That isn't friendship.

Loving someone deeply is permissible - and also encouraged - but it isn't always beneficial. I have some pretty idealistic notions about friendship and for the most part, they are highly inappropriate. Your love for your friends should never become idolatry. You should never turn to your friends over God. I should never turn to my friends over God.

I've made some egregious mistakes in that arena recently. I asked too much of the wrong people instead of looking to God for the unconditional love I was craving. The results were - are - devastating... but (on my part) not undeserved. You should never be mastered by chasing after friendship and I sinned in allowing that in myself.

"Everything is permissible"—but not everything is beneficial. "Everything is permissible"—but not everything is constructive. Nobody should seek his own good, but the good of others. 1 Cor. 10:23, 24.

In a greater context, these two very similar passages in 1 Corinthians are talking about the freedom from legalism that we have as unbelievers. The Law is only necessary to remind us how desperately we need God's grace. We are free to work out our own salvation with Christ as long as we don't hinder another's walk or our own witness - as long as our actions are dictated by selflessness rather that selfishness.

Friendship has similar guidelines.

Yes, friends are there to meet each other's needs, but our focus should never be on our needs being met. We need to serve our friends to the best of our ability and trust that they are willing to do the same for us. We should never demand it. I should never demand it.

Friendships are also necessary to remind us how desperately we need God's grace. And friendships should emulate our relationship with Christ rather than supplant it.

I've been truly horrible to two people I care about very much - two people who are so close to God that it hurt them to have me chase the wrong things. I failed to seek their good above my own - I failed to be a friend. Some damage is irrevocable and better for all concerned to close the doors... but the regrets are overwhelming.

Once upon a time I'd use this blog as an avenue to apologize (because I'm a bit cowardly and it seems easier that way), but things have fallen out so badly that they no longer read my blog... and I have no idea how to approach them - nor do I feel as though I have a right to. So instead I'm writing this because I need to purge... I need to be honest... and I need to find the words to say for that day in the future when I'm ready to say them.

Everything is permissible... but only God-focused and God-directed love is beneficial. If you want to be a friend - and have a friend - seek God first. The rest will come.

Maybe someday I'll have that. But not today.
There's so much more I could say - and a whole lot more I should say - but I'm running out of steam. My heart hurts.

Crazy?

...I was crazy once.

They locked me in a big round room - and told me to stand in the corner.

I walked around...
and around...
and around...
and around...

I looked for that corner but couldn't find it anywhere!
I walked! I looked!
I walked and looked and walked and looked!?!? Around and around.
Where's that corner?!??!
Why can't I find that stupid corner!!!???!!!
If I don't find that corner I'm going to go CRAZY!!!!!

Crazy? I was crazy once.

Ahem.

So... I'm contemplating something rather insane. I'm sure if I took the time to talk to any of the sane and reasonable people in my life (unfortunately those people are dwindling at an alarming rate), they would tell me the same thing that the teeny tiny rational part of my brain is telling me:

ARE YOU CRAZY? RUN!

But... I don't listen very well to my rational mind, and like I said, the reasonable people in my life have dwindled to a number that can be counted on one hand with fingers left over.

I know the fact that I'm considering this is a product of the last two weeks of upheaval. Ok, make it the last week... that first week I could have weathered, despite opinions to the contrary. I might have come out of it a little battered, but far less so than I am now. No one's fault but my own.

The past 8 days have been eye-opening. Who and what I am has never been defined more clearly. What I'm capable of - or more importantly, NOT capable of - has never been proclaimed more definitively. It's been a long, long, LONG time since I've experienced an emotional earthquake of this magnitude.

It's not just that my life is in crisis (when isn't it?)... and I'm not sure I can explain so where was I?

Oh, yes. Contemplating crazy.
I'm not even sure I want anyone to talk me out of it. Assuming there's anyone who would.
And maybe what my life needs right now it a little bit of the crazy.
Maybe "crazy" was God's intention all along and I was just running away from it.
Or maybe I just want to be reckless and stupid.

As if I could tell the difference!?

Crazy? I was crazy once.
Or twice. =)

Just Breathe

*What do you do when something that shouldn't have stunned you, did? When something you were expecting all of a sudden feels so unexpected?
*What do you do when you feel as though you've been punched in the gut and all of the wind has been knocked out of you?
*What do you do when your whole body shakes and you feel dizzy and nauseous and boxed in? When you don't know who to talk to because... well, it feels as though there isn't anyone left?
*What do you do when it feels as though everything you knew to be true (and actually liked) about yourself really isn't?
*What do you do when it feels like no one believes in you anymore?
*What do you do when you've screwed up so badly that it feels as though you can never come back from it?
*What do you do when you're sad, confused, angry, ashamed and alone?

I'll tell you what I've done.

*I ran away to things that weren't safe.
*I caved to thoughts and emotions that were ugly and dangerous.
*I drove around with all sorts of crazy ideas roaming around in my head.
*I slept a LOT... or not at all.
*I ate... nothing.
*I lashed out - or avoided - people I love.
*I stood in the sanctuary of my church...

and SCREAMED...

and yelled...

and pounded on doors... and chairs...

and demanded...

and walked in circles...

and stomped in circles...

and cried... alot...

and fell to my knees...

and fell on my face...

and, well, just all around fell...

God! I can't do this! What were You thinking when you chose me?

Me. Of all people.

Me.

So lost and confused and messed up from the inside out.

You saved me for what?

To be a prime example of how NOT to do the Christian walk?

To be the one who always falls short, always runs, always loses faith?

Why do You ask me to do hard things?

You have to know I'll only make things worse.

You have to know I'll only make a mockery of You and the grace You've given me.

You have to know I'll fail.

I always do.

I'm a screw up.

A mess.

A loser.

I'm worthless.

I know You've said I have value. I know You've said I matter.

I know You've said I have a purpose and a future.

I know You've said I have a hope...

But I just don't feel it.

I can't do this.

I can't take another step. I can't take another breath. I. Just. Can't.

Please God, tell me You CAN!?

Sometimes I think my life is nothing but chaos surrounded by crisis wrapped up in calamity... when all I really want is calm.

Yep. That's been my last two weeks, how 'bout yours?

30 Days of Thanksgiving

At the beginning of the month I answered a Facebook challenge to post something in my status that I am thankful for every day during November. Here's my list - the italicized bits are further editorial. =)

*I am thankful for a church home where I'm loved and prayed for. I am truly blessed to have found a family, dysfunctional as it may sometimes be.
*I am thankful for the end of daylight savings time so my children don't have to wait for the bus in the dark!
*I am thankful for second (70x7th) chances... I seem to need a lot of them.
*I am thankful for lunch with friends. For longer than I care to remember, I didn't have anyone I could sit with over coffee. It's amazing.
*I am thankful I can make a difference at work even when it is very very hard. And it is very, VERY hard. I'm looking for a new job even though the thought kills me.
*I am thankful for children who woke up, got themselves ready and went off to the bus stop without a single argument, whine or complaint!! (Who are they and what did they do with my children??)
*I am thankful for excellent and amazing co-workers. I work with an awesome team of people!!!!!
*I am thankful for the freedom (dare I say luxury?) to come together with fellow Christians and worship my God when I want, where I want and how I want!
*I am thankful Sarah got her cast off today! November 9th. WOOT!!!
*I am thankful for 15 more minutes to still get today's "thankfulness" in... but seriously, *I'm thankful for unexpected friendship.
*I am thankful for those who lay their lives on the line to protect the freedom we too often take for granted.
*I am thankful for hard things... can't explain it, but it's true.
*I am thankful for people who tell the truth no matter how hard it is to hear.
*I am thankful for the opportunity to speak at the HeartStrings breakfast! I was blessed to be asked and I hope God used what I shared as a blessing.
*I am thankful for the ability to give to others.
*I am thankful David is starting to squeal a little less on his violin!! He has been begging to play for years and he was so excited to find out that 5th graders could do orchestra. I am excited for the day it actually sounds like a violin. =)
*I am thankful for reprieves... even temporary ones.
*I am thankful for children who are learning to make good choices despite the circumstances.
*I am thankful for the many cultural opportunities at work. Going to another Native American Sweat today.
*I am thankful for distractions.
*I am thankful for people who tell me I deserve better.
*I am thankful that the big branch that hit the house last night missed the skylight. We had a nasty storm that night with downed trees and powerlines all over the area.
*I am thankful that Sarah's friend Daphne should be coming home today. She had H1N1 and was in the hospital for over a week.
*I am thankful for migraine meds... especially when the migraines come out of the blue like a ton of bricks. Over the last month I've maxed out on my "do not take for more than three days in a row" migraine medication 5 times. Fun.
*I am thankful that it hasn't gotten hard to find something to be thankful for... until today. Urg. Seriously though, I'm thankful for quiet time at home.
*I am thankful for family, friends and the simple fact that I may not get called in to work today after all. Woot. I almost had to work on Thanksgiving despite asking for it off three months ago and it was my year to have the kids.
*I am thankful that apple cider vinegar tablets and Airborne seem to be kicking the cold I am NOT getting. =)
*I am thankful that things weren't as bad as they could have been. My
children saw something they shouldn't have to see but it could have been much, MUCH worse.
*I am thankful for Thanksgiving leftovers - the ultimate comfort food.
*I am thankful for friendship that sticks through the good, the bad and the absolutely hilarious. =)

So... that's it in a nutshell. I have a lot to be thankful for - my life is filled with lots of blessings... I just needed 30 or so reminders.

What are you thankful for?

Waiting on the Harvest

Right around this time every year my family would start my favorite (sometimes) fall ritual. Out came the huge enamel stock pots (you know, the black and white speckled ones), the canning supplies and all the fruits and vegetables from our garden that had been stored in the basement.

For weeks the house would be filled with the sweet and savory scents of homemade canned vegetables, applesauce, jams and jellies, chili base, spaghetti sauce and sauerkraut (the part that was NOT my favorite - ICK!). The kitchen was full of heat and steam and spices while the basement pantry would fill with rows and rows of shiny glass jars - some purchased, some recycled - that proudly displayed the results of a season of hard work and patience.

Ah, patience.

When I'd pester him about when this plant or that would be ready, my dad would tell me, "It'll be ready when it's ready - in it's own time." I used to sit outside in the branches of one of the apple trees overlooking the garden thinking, "grow, grow, grow!" I'd wander through the garden in late July disappointed that the tomatoes were still green. I'd pick an apple and take a bite then throw it across the yard in disgust because it was awful and bitter.

Too often I approach life the same way - "when will it be ready God?" and "hurry up and grow!" and "I want it now!" And time and time again, when I take things into my own hands and rush what God has planned for me, it turns out awful and bitter.

Things come in their own time.

Ecclesiastes 3 tells us everything is made beautiful in it's time. Lamentations 3 tells us it is good to wait patiently for the Lord. 2 Peter tells us that God's time is not our own.

With all of the chaos and uncertainty and frustrations and disappointments that have filled my life lately, I've spent a lot of time asking God when He's going to hurry up and do whatever it is He's doing so I can get on with my life.

But what if my life is the waiting?

"The journey's the thing.*" We've all heard something along those lines (much to my annoyance, it keeps coming up!) - almost cliche isn't it? Well. Perhaps it's cliche because it's also the truth.

Something beautiful and precious came from all those long hours, and long months, of planting, watering, waiting, harvesting and canning: Food that had no store-bought rival and lasted long past the time the vines and bushes withered. A tradition that built our family. Memories. Life lessons. Truth.

Something beautiful and precious will come from all of life's long hours, long months and long years... it's the pressing on without knowing that makes the end result a blessing. I'm hoping I learn that lesson sooner, rather than later... but maybe that's another something I just have to wait for.

For in this hope we were saved. Now hope that is seen is not hope. For who hopes for what he sees? But if we hope for what we do not see, we wait for it with patience. And we know that for those who love God all things work together for good, for those who are called according to his purpose.. Romans 8:24,25&28

*Homer, The Odyssey

Again

Well. I'm back. Miss me?

I'd like to be able to say I'm returning to the blog because I'm on a spiritual high - that I met with God in a powerful mountain-top experience that has left me feeling completely recharged and full of the Spirit. Wouldn't that be nice?

Maybe.

I'm not a fan of mountain-top experiences. I've had many of them - but they never last. Maybe it's through my own failings rather than the fault of the experience, but I always come crashing back to earth. And let me tell you, the let-down is awful. Maybe it shouldn't be that way. Maybe, if I just had more faith I could maintain that bliss forever.

Maybe.
But not today.

Because I'm not coming back to the blog on a spiritual high. I'm coming back on my knees... where I should have been all along.

Over the last three months I've jumped head-long into disaster. It didn't "just happen," it wasn't a "mistake" - it was deliberate. I can make all the excuses in the world, but I knew what I was doing was wrong and I did it anyway... is there any truer description for sin?

I stopped reaching for God... but He never stopped reaching for me.

So here I am on my knees - tired, broken and very, very sad. But I'm ok. I can't stand right now, but I can't fall either. Not a bad place to be.

I think I'm going to stay here a while.

Here you are down on your knees again
Trying to find air to breathe again
Only surrender will help you now
The floodgates are breaking and pouring out
Here you are down on your knees again
Trying to find air to breathe again
Right where I want you to be again
I love you please see and believe again
~FlyLeaf, Again

...a PAIL full of tears

October 15th is the Pregnancy And Infant Loss (PAIL) Remembrance day.

As if it could be forgotten.

Pregnancy loss has touched four different families I know so far this year... and it never stops being heartbreaking.

There is no grief that can compare to losing a baby.

One day you're holding your rounded belly and laughing at each nudge and kick. Then before you know it, your belly is ominously silent. What was once full of hope and dreams is terrifyingly empty.

There's a hollow place there that's more than an empty womb.

It's an empty life.

It's empty arms... an empty cradle... and an empty heart.

It's the first bath, first smile, first laugh, first crawl, first tooth, first birthday, first step, first day of school, first report card, first crush, first date, first dance, first kiss, first love, first grandchild.... all those firsts that never come.

It's the hollow under the Christmas tree where presents should have been.
It's the birthdays you can't celebrate or even acknowledge because people forget.
It's the closet you clean out, the toys you box up, the furniture you pack away and the gifts you return.
It's the memories you don't have, because you never had the chance to make any.
It's the faith that seems irreparably shaken by a God who takes away what He's given.
It's the dreams that died and the hopes you mourn.

Ten and a half years ago I sat in the front pew of my church as a little white casket was carried to the front and the pastor said something I'm sure was poignant and meaningful - I didn't hear a word he said. I shook hands and accepted hugs and flowers and food from well-meaning people - I didn't see a single face. I stood in a cemetery next to a tiny grave on a February afternoon - I didn't feel the cold.

I stood there as my mom patted me on the back and said, "It's ok. It's ok" All the while, I wanted to scream,

"IT IS NOT OK!!!"

Because it isn't ok. It is never ok to bury a child.

Sure, the grief gets lighter and the days stop blurring and one morning you will wake up and you won't immediately be reminded of your loss. Eventually you'll get through a whole day without weeping... then a week... a month. I haven't yet made it a whole year, but maybe some people get there eventually.

Though I doubt it. I think the tears will always come back.

I never held or touched my stillborn son. I never saw him. No pictures, no footprints, no lock of hair. I had nothing of him except a blurry, fading sonogram photo and a jar full of dried flowers from his funeral.

Tiny daffodils, purple status, little blue mums, yellow and white rose petals, daisies, baby's breath... I kept some of everything

I looked at those flowers in that jar every day. It sat on my dresser, then on my bookshelf, then in the kitchen and I would touch it - sometimes with purpose, sometimes absent-mindedly - just a quick acknowledgment that I still remembered I have three sons. I'd softly whisper his name, "Joshua," and that was enough

Until one day a couple of years ago... I came out of the bathroom to a trail of what looked like fishfood flakes leading from one end of the house to the other and the sound of my children playing in the water in their bathroom sink.

"We're making perfume mommy!"

It took me a few moments to realize what they were using to pour water into a dozen little dixie cups sitting on the counter. Joshua's jar. Tiny flakes of color floated in the water. Crumbled up bits of my precious flowers swirled down the drain.

And then I lost it.

I was beyond reason. I cried, I screamed, I said things I wish I could take back. Because it felt like it was my Joshua crumbled up and strewn carelessly around the house. It felt like my Joshua was being swirled down the drain.

It felt like my Joshua was leaving me again.

And the emptiness that four children couldn't fill came sweeping over me again in waves of grief I have no words to express. I laid down on the floor and I cried deep, wrenching sobs while tiny hands patted my hair, cupped my face and wrapped around me. They stayed there with me until I cried myself dry.

"It's ok mommy," a little voice said. No baby, it's not ok.

But I am.

You see, the grief never really goes away, but whether we like it or not, life goes on. There's always a new day and another step to take. We keep doing what we have to do, no matter how hard, until it becomes easy again.

If you've recently lost a baby, I am so sorry. But I promise you, the day will come when you can breathe again. The day will come when you can dream and laugh and hope again.

Until that day... cry my friend, my sister. Weep and mourn and rage at the terrible unfairness of life in a fallen world. Sob alone into your pillow or in a crowd of people. Beat your fists against the wall and cry out your anger and pain to the God you wish had spared your baby.

He can take it.
He understands.
He lost a son too.

Mourn beloved. Because there will be a morning.
I promise.

"Crying may last for the night, but joy comes in the morning." Psalm 30:5.

Closing up Shop

For a little while anyway.

There's a post scheduled to publish on October 15th, but other than that, it'll be a while before you hear from me again.

I've really messed things up over the last couple of months. It seems like every time I turned around I found something else to do I could later use to beat myself over the head with. I've sinned and it left me vulnerable to being hurt. It put my family at risk. It destroyed my witness. And ultimately, it cost far more than I ever imagined.

But isn't that just like sin?

I need to come to terms with myself and with God before I can come back here.
That's all.

32

....bits of useless information about yours truly:

1) I am a complete sci-fi freak. I mean, used-to-go-to-Star-Trek-conventions, FREAK. 90% of the fiction books on my bookshelf are from the sci-fi/fantasy genre. But I'm picky. I'm not into gore. I like action, but thrillers skirt the edge and horror is an absolute no-go. Love: Star Trek. Like: War of the Worlds. Hate: Alien. Anyway.

2) My favorite meal in the whole wide world - second only to Thanksgiving dinner - is corned beef and cabbage with potatoes and carrots. I had it only once in the entire 7 years I lived with my ex-husband. I think I've only had it two or three times since. Tragic.

3) I grew up in the Church of God (Anderson). That last bit in the parentheses is VERY important. Trust me. I majored in Religion and Christian Ministries at a Church of God (Anderson) college. I even made fun of those "crazy Baptists." Now I'm both. Crazy... and a Baptist.

4) My dad used to invent robots. Seriously. I used to think that made me really cool. Now I know it just means I come by my geekiness honestly.

5) I was a drama geek in highschool. If I wasn't acting in the school play for that quarter, I was asst. directing it... or stage managing it... or building the set. Fun stuff. Drama was my life, now my life IS drama. Not the best trade off in the world. =)

6) I have 10 fingers and 10 toes. Hello!! I did say useless information!

7) I babble when I'm nervous. Endlessly. On and on and on and on. Or I don't say anything at all. Endlessly. So... no matter what I'm doing, I'm probably nervous.

8) Did you know that "ruminating" actually means chewing the cud? As in animals with reflux re-chewing partially digested... whatever it might be (ick). You might be wondering how this little factoid is information about me. Well, in addition to being a sci-fi freak and a drama geek, I am also a word nerd. Exciting, huh?

9) I spent nearly six and a half YEARS pregnant and/or nursing. Non-stop.

10) I lived in the same house (barring college dorms) for the first 20 years of my life... I've lived in 9 houses/apartments since then. AND, I've been in my current house for 5 1/2 years now. Do the math on that one.

11) My ancestors on my mom's side of the family came to the "new world" on the Mayflower. No joke.

12) My ancestors on my dad's side of the family came to the "new world" to escape religious persecution and became slave owners... and generally not-very-nice people to anyone who was different than them (doesn't make a lot of sense, does it?). Except for my draft-dodging (Civil War) great (x2 or 3) grandfather who ran off to California and married a Native American. Oh, the scandal.

13) I've never been outside the country (except when flying over Canada on my way to Alaska).

14) I like to read. Duh. =)

15) I also like to write, and draw, and sculpt, and paint, and crochet... Not exactly very good at any of those things, but most of the time I enjoy them... except when I don't. Heh.

16) I'm only halfway through and I'm running out of things to say. Yikes. That's kind of sad since I'm usually so wordy and long-winded.

17) I've been on a whopping THREE actual dates in my entire life, pre-marriage.

18) My ex-husband was the first non-relative to give me flowers for anything other than opening night of a play I was in.

19) I love play-doh. Seriously. It does my heart good to just pop open the can... to squish it in my hands, to sniff it (my own aromatherapy)... If you ever want to buy me a present (not that you would), play-doh would be an excellent choice. I know it's weird... but I really enjoy it.

20) The first movie I ever saw in the theatre was E.T. And it scared me so badly that I hid under my seat crying (quietly) for most of the movie. I still don't like that movie.

21) My psycho-cat thinks I'm a bathtub. Ick.

22) I spent a few hours last Friday hanging out in a hospital. My 6yo with the broken arm had to go under general anesthesia so the orthopedic doc could re-break her arm (they call it a "reduction") because the bones weren't healing properly. Poor baby.

23) Excluding childbirth, I've spent more time in hospitals in the last year than I have in all the time since my oldest had his surgery at 14 months. (That would be more than 9 years ago).

24) I do not like hospitals. AT ALL.

25) I dislike hospitals so intensely that I had my youngest child at home. On purpose. Safely, naturally and a whole heck of a lot more comfortably. But your mileage may vary.

26) I'm stubborn. (I know, you're thinking, "tell me something I don't know.") This causes serious problems in my relationship with God. Especially since I am also rebellious.... Stubborn and rebellious. Not a good combination.

27) I was recently very stupid. (Part of that stubborn rebellion). I hate it when I'm stupid. I hate it even more when that stupidity comes back to bite me in the butt. Ouch. Consequences hurt. And sometimes they change everything.

28) I am really, unspeakably grateful that God forgives stupid and stubborn and rebellious. Over and over and over again. I guess He's more stubborn than I am.

29) Speaking of stubborn... when I was a child my dad told me he would buy me a triple scoop waffle cone if I could rip apart a tear-proof tyvek envelope. Then he told me I couldn't do it. Wrong answer Dad. That icecream tasted REALLY good. The envelope? Notsomuch.

30) I am a veritable fount of useless facts and information. Which means I'm really good at Trivial Pursuit.

31) I'm almost done!!! It's after 4 in the morning, but I have finally reached the end of my useless list. Woot. Wow. I can't believe you read this far.

32) I am 32 years old. Yay me.

Strange

It's strange for a child of God to be paralyzed by fear, isn't it?

Totally out of place.

I was recently given an amazing opportunity to allow God to fill me through the unexpected generosity of others. And rather than grasp at the opportunity to experience it fully, I went only half way.

Because I was paralyzed.

I had numerous opportunities to take a step... would get almost there, and then walk away.

Avoid, avoid, avoid.


Then I got up the courage to say, "I'm here."
And something amazing happened.

I sat next to a total stranger and poured out so much of my life story.
Why? I don't know.
It was totally out of character.
Sure, I reveal some of myself here but, with a couple of notable exceptions, I'll never have to face any of you on this side of heaven.
It's easier to write it down.
I don't talk to people face-to-face who I don't know, as a rule.
Never. Ever.

But something was happening there, inside of me.
And as I talked, and this precious woman listened, I began to see my life from a different perspective.

All the things that I rarely mention but so often wallow in became opportunities to see God's hand at work in my life rather than examples of my shame. The words came tumbling out of me and rather than see my life as one failure after another, it became one sign after another of God's ever-present influence, even in the darkest moments.

And I learned something important...
God doesn't always go for the dramatic.

Sometimes God changes people in an instant. Sometimes He takes away addictions and struggles and heartaches and pain in the blink of an eye.

And sometimes He doesn't.

Sometimes we have to turn to Him every day and say, "Just today Lord. Be enough just for today." And then we wake up the next day and start again.

And that's OK.

Using up Today

Just a short something-to-think-about....
When I came back to work from my weekend last week, a huge poster was tacked to the wall with this message:

Don't allow yesterday to use up too much of today. ~ Cherokee proverb.

How much of your todays are used up by your yesterdays?
Things you did, things you didn't do.
Regrets. Worries. Misgivings.

I wonder sometimes if I ever really live in today.
I think I spend more time than I should thinking about the past or worrying about the future and I never really let today be today.

I also wonder if this is what happens when we refuse to forgive ourselves or each other.
Does that clinging to the wrongs of the past use up today to the point that we can't really live it?
Seems like a waste. Seems like we'd miss out on a whole lot of joy... and a whole lot of blessings.

What are you missing out on today, because you're holding on to yesterday?

Not for the squeamish...

...Though I happen to think it's kind of cool.


Not cool that my youngest broke her arm last Wednesday... or that she was awake all night the first night crying in pain... or that her little hand is swelling up in her cast... or that it was her dominant hand and she already really struggles with her writing...


But the picture's cool.


And it's interesting that God used my daughter's brokeness to snap me out of my own.


Well. Out of it enough that I can think rationally again. Which is a very good thing.


Life is made up of breakable moments. Human life is fragile. Not only in our mortality, but also in our morality. It's so easy to fall. So easy to break.


Without the sustaining, strengthening and shatter-proof power of Christ, there isn't a single person among us who is unbreakable. When we break a bone we have to work through physical therapy to discipline our body as it heals... when we break our spirit we also need discipline.


And it isn't fun.

But it's worth it.

Hebrews12:11-13
11No discipline seems pleasant at the time, but painful. Later on, however, it produces a harvest of righteousness and peace for those who have been trained by it.
12Therefore, strengthen your feeble arms and weak knees. 13"Make level paths for your feet," so that the lame may not be disabled, but rather healed.

Broken

I haven't had a lot of myself to share over the last couple of weeks... or at least not a lot I'm willing to share. Today I'm going to let Lifehouse speak for me.

"Broken"

The broken clock is a comfort,
it helps me sleep tonight
Maybe it can stop tomorrow
from stealing all my time
I am here still waiting
though i still have my doubts
I am damaged at best,
like you've already figured out

I'm falling apart, I'm barely breathing
With a broken heart that's still beating
In the pain, there is healing
In your name I find meaning
So I'm holdin' on, I'm holdin' on, I'm holdin' on
I'm barely holdin' on to you

The broken locks were a warning
you got inside my head
I tried my best to be guarded,
I'm an open book instead
I still see your reflection
inside of my eyes
That are looking for a purpose,
they're still looking for life

I'm falling apart, I'm barely breathing
with a broken heart that's still beating
In the pain, there is healing
In your name I find meaning
So I'm holdin' on, I'm holdin' on, I'm holdin' on,
I'm barely holdin' on to you

I'm hangin' on another day
Just to see what you throw my way
And I'm hanging on to the words you say
You said that I will be OK

The broken lights on the freeway
left me here alone
I may have lost my way now,
haven't forgotten my way home

I'm falling apart, I'm barely breathing
with a broken heart that's still beating
In the pain there is healing
In your name I find meaning
So I'm holdin' on, I'm holdin' on, I'm holdin' on,
I'm barely holdin' on to you

I'm falling apart. There doesn't seem to be a lot more to say than that. I wish I could be better at holding on... but instead I'm just oh-so-good at throwing my hands in the air and giving up. Thank God He holds on to me even when I can't - or won't - hold on to Him.

To my ex-husband's bride-to-be...

Dear Jennifer,

I have to admit, I'm struggling here. I'm more ambivalent than I imagined I would be. You're marrying my ex-husband. I want to ask you if you're crazy, but that wouldn't be very nice. I want to hate you, but that wouldn't be very nice either. So instead, I'll pray.



My prayer for you, as difficult as it may be for me to voice, is that your fiance is not the man he was when he was my husband.



I pray that when you talk to him, he truly listens to you.

I pray that you are a companion rather than a conquest.

I pray that he cares more about your hopes and dreams than he does about his own.

I pray that he never sees your accomplishments as competition.

I pray that the only woman he looks at, and looks to, is you.

I pray that you are never compared, except in a good way, to the other women in his life.

I pray that the words that come from his lips are kind and loving.

I pray that the only touch you know from him is sweet and gentle.

I pray he treats you like a treasure and guards your heart.
I pray that your experience is different than mine because I wouldn't wish mine on anyone.


....But if things aren't what I pray for you, I also pray that you know your worth enough to walk away. These are hard things for me to pray, because these things should have been mine. But the past is the past and there's no changing it.



I can't offer you friendship, but if you love my children and treat them well, I will give you my respect.

Doing a 180...

...in honor of my 180th post.

To do a one-eighty is to physically turn around and go back in the direction from which one came or to go back on a promise or statement.


I've done a lot of 180s in my life. Haven't we all?

How many times have I said, "I will never..." only to find myself doing exactly what I said I wouldn't? More times than I can count, especially since becoming a parent. I could feed a small country with the words I've eaten over the last 10 1/2 years.

180s come in many forms: serious, silly, sacred and sad. We have numerous points of radical change, some of them more meaningful and long-lasting than others.

Take repentance.

The Greek and Hebrew words for repentance also imply a turn around of thought and action. What could be more radical than that?

Nothing really.

Sometimes I think we forget what repentance really is. We want to say, "sorry," and go on our merry way without ever turning around... because we want to be forgiven, but we don't really want to stop. Sin in general is an addiction and like with any addiction, repentance means we are not only sorry, but we have also decided we want God more.

We want God more than the next juicy bit of gossip...
We want God more than the next little stroke to our ego...
We want God more than the next shot of vodka...
We want God more than the next cruel word that rolls off our tongue...
We want God more than the next cigarette, the next lie, the next warm body... the next anything and everything that separates us from Him.

Even if we slip and fall again, it's our desire for God that shows that we are more than just sorry. Because "sorry" doesn't fix it, but God does.

If we want to be fixed.

I'm struggling today to be truly repentant. I'm sorry that I've sinned and I've asked for forgiveness, but in the back of my mind I'm still planning the next time. I want to be sorry without having to stop. I want feel-good forgiveness while still indulging in sin.

I need a one-eighty.

Playing Hide & Seek

A few weeks ago while we were staying at my mom's house (107 degree weather and no a/c at home) my children started up a game of hide & seek.

I've been so busy lately - and so have they - that I haven't really had an opportunity to watch them play. And let's be honest... with four kids born within 4 1/2 years, it isn't very often that they can play together without some attempt at bodily harm.

It was a lovely afternoon and it was so nice to enjoy the fun part of being a mom, but it got me thinking... how often have I played hide & seek with God?

Sometimes it feels as though God has hidden Himself from me. I can't hear Him. I can't feel Him. He seems silent, aloof and uncaring. I know that isn't true, but it sure feels that way.

I've felt that way a lot lately. Where are You God?, I wonder.

Tell me Lord, why can't I see You? It hurts to feel alone and abandoned by God. Jesus Himself knew that. But are we really alone?

Psalm 13:1&2
1How long, O LORD ? Will you forget me forever?
How long will you hide your face from me?
2 How long must I wrestle with my thoughts
and every day have sorrow in my heart?
How long will my enemy triumph
over me?

But then I realize that even when it feels like God is hiding, I still need to seek Him. Sometimes the reason God is silent is so we will seek Him. It is the endurance and perseverance in the face of God's silence that builds our faith.

Lamentations 3:25 & 26
25 The LORD is good to those whose hope is in him,
to the one who seeks him;
26 it is good to wait quietly
for the salvation of the LORD.

Then there are those times when I foolishly try to hide from God. I'm angry, petulant, guilty... and I try to hide. Or I'm ashamed. Like Adam and Eve, I feel naked and want to hide from Him.

Sometimes my shame is justified - I've sinned and I know it, but I'm too stubborn to beg for forgiveness. Sometimes my shame is misplaced - old sins that have been long-forgiven that I still bring out to beat myself up with... or old abuses I can't let go that hinder my freedom in Christ.

But God knows.

Jeremiah 23:24
Can anyone hide in secret places
so that I cannot see him?"
declares the LORD.
"Do not I fill heaven and earth?"
declares the LORD.

It is in these times that God seeks us. He leaves the 99 sheep in the fold and hunts us down. He finds us, breaks our legs and carries us back where we belong. He brings us home. We are His treasure and He wants us, even when we stray. Even when we hide.

Psalm 119:176
I have strayed like a lost sheep.
Seek your servant, for I have not forgotten your commands.

There is a better way.

We can hide ourselves IN God. He can be the place we run to instead of the One we run from. He can be our shelter from the world and everything in it that tries to shake us.

It's hard for me to see Him that way. It shouldn't be, but sometimes it is. Even though I know better, it's hard to trust Him. I have "reasons" not to, and yet He's always there waiting. He understands my struggle. He understands my hurt.

And He shields me from it.

When I run to His arms and rest in them, that pain falls away. The shame, the hurt, the sin, the mistrust all pales in comparison to His measureless love for me. He has delivered me from my past, and seeks to turn my ashes into incomparable beauty.

Psalm 32:7
You are my hiding place;
you will protect me from trouble
and surround me with songs of deliverance.
Selah

Surrender...

***When I started writing this post a few days ago, I had no idea the direction it would take. Some of it might be... disturbing to you. I can only pray that you read to the end before judging me or I what I've said here.***

Surrender don' come natural to me. I'd rather fight You for somethin' I don't really want than take what You give that I need.....

I don't like giving in.

Giving in is weakness... those who can force you to give in, or ask you to give in, are cruel and want to see you suffer - because you're nothing. Insignificant. Worthless. Giving in means lying down and letting someone else take. Everyone who wants you to give in is trying to rape you in one way or another.

Even God.

That's right. That's how I saw God - as this all-powerful, all-present deity who wanted to pin me down and force something from me. And lest you think I was one of those poor, misguided "unchurched" souls who clearly didn't know any better...

I wasn't.

To paraphrase Paul: I was a Church Girl of church girls. (Philippians 3:4&5). I toed the line better than the best of them. I knew every answer, could memorize any verse and had the talk down perfect. I knew more about God than some pastors I know, and darn right I was proud of it.

I knew God loved me.

The boy who molested me for years in my baby-sitter's basement said he loved me too. Other people have loved and hurt me throughout the years. "Love" was meaningless. "Love" was pain and shame and a constant reminder of how pathetic I was.

Sure, God loved me. He wanted me to see how broken I was so that I would know how much I needed Him. He wanted me to hand myself over and let Him do whatever He wanted with me. All good things...

But not to me.

Somehow, in my desire to be in control and not give in - in my need to hold on to some part of myself that no one could take away - I warped who God is. I saw Him as a user and an abuser. When people would say, "God will use this," it wasn't a comfort. It wasn't something to rejoice in. It made me ache... made me bitter and angry and rebellious and defiant.

How dare God screw me over for His benefit!? How dare He try to break me? How dare He take anything from me? How dare He USE me!!??

Even after God met me on my dorm room floor and made me His, some small part of me felt as though I'd tried to fight Him off for as long as I could, but He was stronger. Again, a GOOD thing.

But not in the eyes of a victim. How insidious that lie is.

It has taken me years to work through the way I saw God... hard, broken, angry, lonely years. It has taken years to see God as He IS and not as Satan painted Him to be. I still have fleeting moments of panic when people say, "God will use this." I still have flashes of bitterness and defiance when someone says, "Surrender to Him."

I don't want to surrender. It don' come natural.

And maybe that's the point.

I had to come to a place of consent - a place where I could trust that I was yielding because I wanted to, not because it had been forced from me... and a place where I could trust that God wasn't looking to make me His victim. Maybe you think that road was easy, after all, He's a good God. I could tell you how painless and simple it was....

But I won't lie.
It's hard. It's scary. It's painful.

...and I've beat my head against so many walls, now I'm fallin' down, I'm fallin' on my knees...

And from this place of submission, I see a God who plans to prosper me, not to harm me... who plans to give me hope. And a future...

And peace.

So hold me, Jesus

'cause I'm shakin' like a leaf.

You have been King of my glory,

won't You be my Prince of peace?

(Rich Mullins)

Words that aren't said...

While the source is dubious (a semi-trashy romance author), one of my favorite quotes is:

Words are important... to everyone. When they aren't said, they leave holes.
~Nora Roberts

I recently wrote an e-mail to a friend with a similar subject line, because I had some things I couldn't leave unsaid. Her friendship is too important to leave holes.

Most of us, unfortunately, have holes left in our lives from words that weren't said:

• "I love you."


• "I'm sorry I hurt you."


• "I need you."


• "I'm proud of you."


• "I believe in you."


• "I forgive you."


• "Thank you."


• "God loves you."

And most of us, unfortunately, have left holes in the lives of others. Even though we know how empty and aching those holes are, most of us have left a trail of them behind us.

I have people I need to apologize to and people I need to forgive. I haven't done enough to let my children know I am proud of them and I don't always tell my friends how grateful I am that they're in my life. Worst of all, I've failed to share the Good News with people in my life who need to hear it.

Have you felt the pain of unsaid words? Have you left any unsaid? Whose holes most need filling and what can you do to fill them?
And while you chew on that for a while, here are the lyrics to a song by Steven Curtis Chapman:

Still Called Today
There a hole the size of a cruel word
In a wounded heart somewhere that's learning to hide the pain
There's a thorn stuck in the conscience of
Someone who spoke a word in anger
And they can't wash away the stain,
sorry's such a hard word to say

CHORUS
But while it's still called today, won't somebody make it right
Before the day slips into night and the moments waste away
While it is still called today, we've got to say the words
That are longing to be heard 'cause tomorrow may be too late
Go on and say what you need to say while it is still called today

There's a girl who's waiting day after day
To hear her daddy say "I love you," now the days have turned to years
There's a wall that silence has turned to stone
Between a man and woman, she's holding back the tears
And he's holding on to his fears

BRIDGE
Cause there's a time when the sun goes down
And the flowers are laid on the grave
Will the tears that fall to the ground
Be the tears of regret for the words someone didn't say

Quandries

I hope I didn't come off as bragging in my last post. I'm just so blown away that those girls were talking about me. I have a hard time seeing the positive in myself and those girls brought me to my knees in more ways than one.

Anyhoo.

Last week at work brought up some ethical and personal challenges (that is an understatement of epic proportions). In more and more workplaces it is becoming increasingly difficult in this world to balance our Christian values with the demands of our jobs.

It is far too easy to compromise in so many ways - sometimes we might be asked to do something illegal, and sometimes we might be asked to do something that is perfectly legal but horribly wrong. Sometimes we might be asked to do something that is, on the surface, neither but there's something niggling in the back of our mind that makes us uneasy. Sometimes the issue is black and white, and sometimes the lines are so nebulous that everything is grey.

Sometimes the issue has so many layers, and can be argued from so many angles that you don't know which way to turn.

And, while it's no excuse to violate our consciences, sometimes fear of losing our jobs in this economy overwhelms the cries of our spirit.

Have you ever faced an ethical quandry that threatened your job? Or had more shades of grey than black & white? How do you handle it when the situation is so unclear, or so complicated that there doesn't seem to be an easy answer?

All Buttoned Up

Last week was rough. The roughest I've had at work. EVER.

Every button that could be pushed was hammered - repeatedly. Then some of those same buttons got pushed in my personal life too. Every failing, every fear, every guilty feeling, every futile attempt to bury my hurts in all the wrong ways were shoved in my face.

And God showed me why.

One of my clients faced something heartbreaking and she turned to me because she thinks I am real - because she trusts me to care... because she knows I'm safe. She talked to me because she knew I wouldn't judge her, and knew I wouldn't try to brush her feelings under the carpet. And I thought... why me? What did I do to deserve her trust?

Another one of my clients graduated the program and she told me that no one else had ever told her it was ok to cry, or that she didn't have to be ashamed of her hurting. I told her once that she could take the power away from the people who have hurt her by using what she's been through to help others. She's decided that she's going to do whatever it takes to turn her life around so she can be a foster parent - so she can give children like her a home and be someone who shows them they are worthy of love... like I showed her. And I thought, is this me? Where did that come from?

I am humbled beyond words by these two girls. And when they saw me crying this week (different buttons), they both knew that they were more than just a job to me. And I thought, is this the why for my life? Is this when God redeems the years the locusts have eaten? Is this the moment when God shows me the good He's meant for me all along?

I'd have to say...
Yes.

Now, that isn't to say I didn't fall apart, or act a fool. That isn't to say that I handled it all well and in the most healthy way possible. And it isn't to say that I don't have miles to go on this journey. God will continue to challenge me - to press those buttons - until I give it all to Him.

And that's ok.
Because He has plans for me.

Letters to My First & Last

David,

My beloved gift from God.
You've been one miracle after another since you were born. Since before you were born. My tiny 2 pound baby with such old and wise eyes. Even when I was afraid I wouldn't get to see you grow up, I had so many dreams for you.

Yesterday, one of them came true. It was an honor and a privilege to watch you take those steps into the baptistry and make a public profession of faith. I know you were nervous about all those people watching you, but when the time came, you went boldly. That's who you are. You get nervous, you hang back, but when the time comes, you go boldly.

My prayer for you as you walk this journey of Christian faith is that you continue to go boldly. I also pray that you walk humbly. You have so many gifts that God can use for His Kingdom. Remember the One who gave them to you and honor Him with them. That's all He asks

"And what does the LORD require of you? To act justly and to love mercy and to walk humbly with your God." Micah 6:8

I love you,
Mom

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sarah,

My little imp.

I love seeing that passionate delight sparkle in your eyes when you've found something you want to give your all to. I love how you commit and don't back down. And today, I love the committment you've made to our Savior.

You've thrown yourself into faith with as much fire and passion and delight as you possibly can, and you keep going. When you ran into Pastor Mark's office after he talked with David and said, "Paster Mark! Pastor Mark! I want to be a Christian too!" I felt my heart leap. When you told me later that you wanted to be baptized so people would know you are a Christian and you could tell them how much He loves them, I thanked God that He gave you to me. When you came home from school to tell me that you'd told one of the classroom bullies that you forgave him and Jesus could forgive him if he wanted, I was blown away.

I've learned so much from you about loving our God. You take the greatest commandment to heart:

"Love the LORD your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your strength." Deuteronomy 6:5

My prayer for you is that your passion never dims. Give Him your everything and people will see Him shining through you.

I am so proud of you,
Mom

The Cost of Caring

I have a love/hate relationship going on with my job right now. Not because the sheen is wearing off - it ISN'T!

But because it just hurts sometimes.

I love:

• Supporting change in children who have lost hope that anything can change.
• Going on outings and adventures.
• Participating in cultural experiences I couldn't ever hope for outside of work.
• Learning new skills from kids who are amazed to discover they have something to offer me.
• Working with a team of people who communicate and support each other.
• Being in a profession that makes a positive impact on my world.
• Watching kids graduate the program with a whole new future ahead of them.
• Seeing children society has given up on rise above their past to become contributing members of their community.

I hate:

• Knowing the reason most of the kids are in the program I work in.
• Talking to the parents who have hurt their children so much they resort to unsafe behaviors to cope.
• Listening to a child who thinks the only way to be good is to be hit.
• Putting children into holds for the safety of themselves and others.
• Knowing that, for some of these children, the only people who care about them are people who are paid to.
• Wanting to take a sobbing teenager into my arms and say "you aren't alone" and not having that freedom.
• Being unable to tell my clients - with words - about the True source of Hope for their broken lives.

I love my job but I hate seeing first-hand some of the worst a fallen world has to offer.

I love my job... but I hate that my job is necessary.

Master Plumber?

So... I've started and then deleted about a dozen posts over the last week or so. They were either more personal than I wanted to get or more petty than I had any business being... and I've been whining so much lately I can't stand myself.

And somewhere along the line I stopped talking to God. I can be stubborn to the point of stupid sometimes.

Take my plumbing problem(s):

It started out as a minor problem - my bathtub spigot was dripping. I've fixed problems like this before. No big deal. A couple cheap-o parts, a screwdriver and pair of channel lock pliers (like a wrench). Easy-peasy. Don't need any help.

Until, of course, I snapped off the entire thing. As in, mangled copper piping, replacing PIPES, not just parts. From there, the problems just got worse. But I can handle it. I don't need help.

***Let me pause for a moment to say that it is very important to me to try to fix things on my own. I've had an ex-husband tell me I was lazy and worthless and incompetent... and when he found out about this particular problem he tried to rush in and be the hero because I "can't handle something like this." Ahem. Being capable is a significant part of combating those messages. That said...***

I don't know if I can fix it - I think I can do the work, once I figure out how... but now that I've told the pastor and deacon (while hiding tears) that I needed to do it myself, I'm too stubborn to ask anyone how.

And wouldn't you know it... my spiritual struggles work much the same way. Something happens. It's minor. Easy peasy. I can fix it.

Only I can't.

And something SNAPS (usually me).

And I still insist that I can fix it... because I really really want to be able to do it on my own. And when things pile up and I finally admit to myself that I need help, I've dug myself a hole so deep I'm too ashamed to ask anyone - including God - to help me out of it.

Smart, huh?

Hmm... Do you think the Master Carpenter is a Master Plumber too?

Eight years ago....

I was dozing off with a tiny little miracle in my arms after a VERY long night. It never ceases to amaze me that women are able to set aside the pain and struggle and love on a new baby without a single thought to what came before. The second that child took his first breath and nestled into my arms the 21 hours of labor was gone in a flash. He was all there was.

My Jonathan. My gift of God. Happy Birthday little man!

Sometimes it strikes me that God's love for us is very much like that. It hurts Him when we are in sin, when we are in rebellion and are turned away from Him... and then He breathes our first real breath into us and we settle into His arms and He says that He forgets what came before. He doesn't count all of that pain we put Him through against us.

Isn't that amazing?

What do they call those thingies at the bottom of the screen that scroll past??

I have a running commentary going through my head. It never seems to stop, kind of like those scroll-things at the bottom of the TV screen.

I hate those.

If I'm actually taking the time to watch TV, it's because whatever I'm watching is interesting and significant to me in some way (even if it's just mindless fun in order to decompress). There I am, happily watching a show that is a few weeks old (thank you TiVo) and I am constantly distracted by things that have nothing to do with what I'm doing, and aren't true (at least not anymore).

Sounds like life.

I go about my daily business, trying to focus on the things that are important to me - work, kids, church, etc. - and my thinking is constantly being interrupted by this steady stream of irrelevant junk. Instead of being able to enjoy life, I'm distracted by unending jabber.

You're ugly. You're stupid. God doesn't really love you. You don't have any friends because no one can stand you. You're pathetic. If someone says they love you they're lying. You're worthless. You can't do this. No one loves you. If anyone thinks you have value, they're a fool. No wants you. You're all alone. You're a screw up. You can't be forgiven. You have no business thinking they care. You don't belong. You don't fit. You're fat. You're a loser. You're a dork. If anyone knew they'd never talk to you again. Everyone is secretly laughing at you. You're unloveable. Nobody cares. You're a coward. You're deluding yourself. You're a failure. Don't try. Don't open up. You don't deserve to be happy.

Neverending nastiness that just saps all joy, motivation and excitement from life. They keep me from paying attention to what really matters. These messages don't ever stop. Sometimes life has enough pull so I can ignore the scrolling thoughts, but most of the time it doesn't, so those thoughts are always there.

Scrolling across the bottom of my screen.

And since I can't turn them off, I guess I need to figure out how to replace them.

Philippians 4:8 (New International Version)
8Finally, brothers, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable—if anything is excellent or
praiseworthy—think about such things.

Two Bits

And definitely not worth more than a quarter!

I am TIRED. I had yet another very LONG work week (50+)... to be followed by a "vacation" at the beach (I need a vacation from my vacation!) only to have to go back to work with a 14 hour day tomorrow... on the one day I usually only work 7. :::yawn:::

Added to the long work week, I also had a very long and hard week personally. Nothing I'm ready to get into right now... just long. And hard. And hopefully... OVER.

Oh... and Me, Myself & Lies is every bit the 2x4 I was expecting it to be. More on that tomorrow. After 14 hours of work. If I'm still lucid.

Me, Myself & I DON'T WANNA DO THIS!!!

Ok... that 2x4 God so liberally uses on my poor, stubborn noggin' is about to be applied to my rear end. I. AM. IN. T-R-O-U-B-L-E.

I've already mentioned the summer Bible Study being hosted by Beth Moore over at the LPM blog. Can I say again that "I do NOT want to do this!!!" ?? Well, I'm gonna say it again, with or without your permission, because I don't.

Because I'm stubborn. And foolish. And because all those horrible, soul-damaging messages that rattle around in my brain are screaming that I don't deserve to be set free from this prison of my own thoughts. They say I can't do this... I can't change... I can't clean out these thoughts because they're the truth. (But they aren't... right?)

Today I watched the introductory video (you can download the whole series online for $30-something!), watched Beth's video, answered the questions on the Facebook group discussion board and did Week 1-Day 1 homework.

Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. OUCH!!!!!

Was it painful because it was overkill? Or because it was exactly what my soul needed to hear?

At the end of today's homework we were asked to write a prayer of gratefulness to God for who He made us to be. I couldn't do it. I'm not grateful for who I am. I don't even like who I am. So instead I prayed this:

Lord, I don't know that I can thank You yet for who I am. I don't really know - yet - who I am in You. I should, and I want to (most of the time at least), but I throw up walls made of all the ugly self-talk that runs through my head. Help me find a me I can be grateful for - a me that is mostly You. Amen.

1 Corinthians 15:10 (NCV) But God's grace has made me what I am, and his grace to me was not wasted.

Blahs

I'm sad today, and I don't really know why. I'm resisting the urge to be reckless.

Life is better than it has been in a very, very long time. I am better.

Yesterday was a good day. My pastor was back in the pulpit, I got to take a long nap, I went in to work for three hours (on my day off) and had a blast with karaoke and basketball and beading... my kids came home after a weekend with their dad and smothered me with hugs and kisses. I felt wonderful. Life is good.

But today I'm sad. Just sad.

That's all.

Pow Wow WOWs!

I love my job.
Seriously.

I got to spend a fabulous two days (despite the pouring rain Friday and some kid drama) at Delta Park Pow wow. I've been to a couple of small pow wows with the kids at work, but nothing like this. OMGoodness.

I wish I had pictures to show you. Unfortunately, for obvious reasons, I couldn't take pictures of my clients at pow wow and I couldn't take my eyes off my clients for the time it would take to snap pictures of other things. Maybe I'll go back after church tomorrow... and I'll take pictures then.

If I've recovered. 'Cause I'm exhausted

Oh... it was lovely.

The colors, the beat of the drum, the regalia, the voices calling out in song, the dancing... :::sigh::: And the honor... white-bread American culture is sadly lacking the Native American attentiveness to honor - honoring the flag, honoring our veterans, honoring our elders, honoring our little ones who are our future leaders, honoring tradition...

I could write a whole post or two on it. Maybe I will. Or not.

I just wanted to say that I was moved. And it was fun. And I really love my job.

Happy Not-My-Father's Day

Pastor Mark,

I know you're not my father.

I loved my Dad very much and he was a good, Godly man. He lived and breathed the Gospel and discipled dozens of young men in the faith. Unfortunately, he never shared that part of himself with me. When I was about 16 years old he started writing the names of the people he witnessed to in the back of his Bible so he could remember to pray for them. There were 87 names there when he died. None of them were mine. To this day, I know almost nothing about his testimony.

There was never a doubt in my mind that my Dad loved me (though he rarely said it) and that he was proud of me. But his pride in what I could do led him to make assumptions about who I was. He never really knew me and I'm not sure he really wanted to.

And even still, saying "good-bye" to him was one of the hardest things I've ever done. To see him suffer... to watch him lose his strength and his brilliant mind... to let him go... to say "it's time to go get your crown in glory," and know that he never took another breath... Hard things.

Eight weeks ago I wondered if God would ask me to say "good-bye" to you too. And I wondered why you had come to matter so much.

Because I know you're not my father,
and I know I have no claim to you.

Except that you've said you're proud of me - of me - not of what I can accomplish but of who I am and who I'm becoming.

Thank you for the gentle reminders and the not-so-gentle rebukes. Thank you for asking for promises and holding me to my word. Thank you for the "FOOP!"s. I thank God for the person He's made you to be.

Even though I know you're not my father, I want you to know, I am proud of you.

I am proud of the man who, in the midst of his own suffering looked to the welfare of his wife, who asked about the health of a sick woman and who dared to ask why he was spared when others were not.

I am proud of the man who grieved over the death of a friend and neighbor; in part because he wasn't strong enough to comfort the family. I am proud of the man who considers it an honor to be there for people during some of their worst moments in life, and who is willing to do so day after day, no matter the hour.

I am proud of the man who considers it a privilege to care about four lost and needy children and their even needier mother. I am proud to call you my pastor.

If I could choose the type of men my sons grow up to be, and the type of men my daughters grow up to marry, they would look a lot like you.

And today...

I know you're not my father, but I am blessed, and better, because I know you and because you've taken the time to know me.

So...

Happy Not-My-Father's Day