Transition

This was one of those days.  One of those "SOMEBODY HELP ME, PLEASE!!!!!" kind of days.  Now, my girls were fine; a little whinier than usual, but fine.  And I'm fine; a little less patient than usual, but fine.  The combination...not so fine.  You see, we are in transition.  I can't decide if I like that word anymore because it has applied to me more times than it should and I'm done.  Done. With. Transition.  Only, I'm not.  Bah, humbug. 

We have just moved away from Spokane into a room at my dad's house.  My two girls and me.  I am sharing a bed with my four year old and she is being a champion about not flip-flopping the night away.  My 15 month old is being a rock star about hardly crying in the night and simply wants to crawl into the big bed at 5 in the morning to be with the big girls ( have I ever mentioned that I am NOT a morning person?  I am loving the extra snuggles, but am wishing they happened a little later in the morning...).  Scott is still in Spokane, wrapping up the remains of a business that held our plans and dreams and we are leaving it.  Along with friends and community and...haven't I been here before?  Like I said- transition.

We are moving to Seattle.  To a great town with lots to do and some amazing  family members that I am so looking forward to being friends with and it's transition!  And I'm not "drawing closer to Jesus" or "rejoicing in the coming character" (seriously, I have enough character) or even feeling very mature about things.  I was mad for a long time: mad at Scott, mad at his previous employer who is behaving badly, mad at situations and people and spiders and strangers who can't drive and the gutter that was falling off my house and moving quotes.  Mad.

Now, I'm a little numb.  Or emotional.  It depends on when you catch me.  But with God, well, we could say I'm not ready to talk to Him, yet.  Except for the one prayer that escapes like breath, "Be with me?"  It's the way I feel after a "discussion" with Scott.  When we go to bed and we're still a little angry, but mostly just cold with each other.  I crawl into bed and roll as far over to my side as possible (without being TOO obvious about it), but my foot sneaks over to be by him because he's warm and reassuring and I need to know that he's still with me.  Even if I'm not ready to talk about it or ready to hear what he has to say, I want to know that he is there.  And with me.  That's where I am with God.  Steady on the outside, panicking on the inside and desperate to know that He is here in the chaos and transition and unknown.  Still struggling to even out after great post-partum depression with my little one, still fighting the anxiety and panic and internal chaos and keep my littles in a place where they feel safe and whole and loved..."Be here with me?"  

He says, "Be still, and know that I am God; I will be exalted among the nations, I will be exalted on the earth." (Psalm 46:10)

He is God.  And my purpose in all this is to exalt Him;  my family's purpose in all this is to exalt Him.  We don't live to be comfortable and root down and nest, as much as that is what I think I want.  We live to exalt Him.  And while I may struggle with this and fight it and even want what I want most days...my hearts desire is for this: to exalt Him on this earth.  So, be here with me and help me remember that YOU are God.

The God who Wears My Tears

"You have collected all my tears in your bottle. You have recorded each one in your book." (Psalm 56:8)

"Mommy, I'm crying," she says, looking up at me with blue eyes sparkling with tears.  I set her on my lap, rock her back and forth and whisper assurances into her ear.  After a few minutes she pulls back and looks at me.  "Here, Mommy," she says, tiny fingers wiping the tears from her cheeks and putting them on mine," you can have my tears."

We go back to playing:  Little People, painting, ring around the rosy, reading, taking Little Baby on many more adventures.  We are busy girls with things to do!  The tears dry on my face, but I don't forget they are there.  It's not until the end of the day that I have space to really consider what she said.  When I do, I am again humbled by this role given me in her little life.  I can have her tears?  I can wear her tears?

I'm certainly no stranger to tears-I cry during Hallmark commercials, for heaven's sake!  I've cried over things that matter and things that don't matter.  Always I have had a place to take my tears; someone I can say, "Here, You can have my tears."  Like Hagar in the desert  naming God because He has been so faithful and she didn't really expect Him to be, naming Him "The God who sees me", I name my God who has been so faithful and held me through the many seasons of life.  I name Him "the God who wears my tears".

"My parents are divorcing and my world is ending and I don't know how to live in THIS!"
     He holds my tears.
"I didn't think marriage could be so hard and how can you love someone and still be frustrated by them and what does this mean?!  Am I the worst wife ever??!"
     He holds my tears.
"Please don't ask me to move.  Please don't ask me to leave my home and my plans and my family and friends and this community of people I love...please don't ask it of me."
     He holds my tears.
"I have no idea how to be the mother of a two year old-none!  Am I the worst mother ever?!  Help!!!"
     He holds my tears.
" I don't know what You're doing- I trust You, but have no idea what You are doing and what part I'm supposed to play."
     He holds my tears.

He holds my tears; He wears my tears.  He has taken so much of me onto Himself-  my fears, pain, questions, anger and amazingly my sin.  He has taken it on because of love and that's what perfect love does.  He holds me in His arms, whispers assurances in my ear and takes my tears.  Then we get back to the business of life, because this IS life.  There are days when things are good and there are days when things are bad.  Hormones, circumstances, weather, finances...life happens and I'm not going to be happy all the time;  my daughter won't be happy all the time;  this little life kicking and stretching and growing inside me won't be happy all the time.  When these children are grown and find themselves crying and I'm not there to hold them and love on them, I want them to know they have a place to go; a place where they are loved no matter what;  a place where their tears matter.  They can go to the feet of a holy God- it's a place none of us have any right to be other than the fact that we've been invited and Someone has torn the veil by wearing our humanity- and He will take their tears, hold them and be faithful.  I want them to know the God who wears our tears.

Change

I’m writing from my bedroom this morning.  The snow is falling outside with such speed and determination that I know it will be piled there for days.  My bed is warm and my daughter is sleeping in, wonder of wonders, so I will stay snuggled in this fortress against the cold as long as possible.  My husband and I moved into this house only three months ago, but it’s amazing how quickly one’s bedroom becomes a sanctuary of sorts.  It is my place of rest, not only for my body, but my soul as well. 

My last bedroom was huge.  I painted it a soothing and reassuring blue and when baby came we had plenty of space for a bassinette, a rocking chair, a  space heater that looks like a fireplace and still have room to fit a small car if so desired.  We did not desire.  It was way more space than we could ever have needed.  We talked about knocking down the wall between the bedroom and master bath and expanding the bathroom to make room for the bathtub of my dreams.  We had major plans of renovation for those two rooms.  God, it seems, had major plans of renovation for us.

My new bedroom is small.  I love how small it is.  It’s cozy and close and sweet.  There is no space for a bassinette or a space heater, although I did fit the rocking chair in the corner and could die for how precious it looks sitting there.  The closet is old and the doors stick and there is only about half the space our old closet had, but I don’t mind.  In fact, I could go room by room and tell you how much smaller each one is compared to my last home.  The kitchen, the bathroom, the living areas…I am amazed we fit everything in.  We have gone from a three car garage with a storage shed to a one car garage, period.  I love it!  It’s a bright, cheerful home and so different from what we left.  I needed it to be different.  If God had moved me from one identical space to another, I would have been more miffed than I already was.  If we were changing course, than we needed to change.  Everything.

I am not a big fan of change, unless it is done on my terms.  I love to rearrange the furniture, re-organize the pantry, the closet, that drawer in the kitchen that catches all the odds and ends, but I need to be that one doing the re-arranging.  That way I know where everything is.  Everything has its place and I am thrilled to discover where that place is.  And when everything is in its place, my soul is at rest.  The air seems fresher, the colors brighter and I can sit and drink a cup of tea in complete peace.  I wish I was kidding, but this really does it for me. 

It all boils down to control.  I don’t want somebody else coming in and “discovering where everything has its place”;  that would throw the whole system off.  When I was pregnant, my sweet and helpful husband, in an attempt to make my world a little easier, would empty the dishwasher.  It was disastrous.  Mixing bowls ended up with casserole dishes, and muffin tins with cheese graters.  Nothing made any sense!  And God whispered to my spirit, “Let it happen.”  What?!  Sit back while my kitchen becomes nonsensical?!  God, You KNOW what order does for me!

 “Let it happen.  Let him love on you in this way, and let go of your control.  It’s a good exercise for bigger things.”

That was NOT what I wanted to hear.  But I yielded and tried not to wince when I found the regular drinking glasses with the juice glasses.  To be honest, I don’t know if that exercise helped at all when a few months later everything was thrown out of order;  out of MY order.  Everything felt way out of control and I did not like it.  I’m not an idiot.  I knew that God was in control and nothing happenstance was going on and this would not be the end of the world.  But in the same token, I wasn’t in control, everything seemed to be spinning, I was getting dizzy, AND it was the end of the world I had planned.

And again He whispered, “Let it happen.”

Isaiah 65:17-18a: “Behold, I will create new heavens and a new earth.  The former things will not be remembered, nor will they come to mind.  But be glad and rejoice forever in what I will create…”

That’s the NIV.  Here’s the same verse and a half in the Message: “Pay close attention now:  I’m creating new heavens and a new earth.  All the earlier troubles, chaos, and pain are things of the past, to be forgotten.   

Look ahead with joy.  Anticipate what I’m creating.”

The God I serve is a creative God.  He makes something from nothing all the time and isn’t content to leave things the way they are.  He IS into change.  And when He steps in to change things, beauty happens.  Miracles happen.  New worlds and new creatures and new ways of thinking happen.  There may be a time of transition between the old and the new, but the new is worth anticipating.  We can look ahead with joy.  “The former things will not be remembered!”  The new things will be so amazing that we won’t need to dwell on what was.  He even promises that the trouble, chaos and pain that took us there will be eclipsed by how wonderful the newness is.

Knowing all this doesn’t make it easier.  It does give me hope and something to cling to, but I’m still in transition, mourning the loss of my friends, my plans, my home, my church.  You name it;  I miss it.  I don’t understand why a God all about change and newness- who Himself never changes- didn’t create us to be more open to it.  Most people I talk to aren’t wild about change.  So if God is always doing a “new thing”, why are we so resistant to it? 

I don’t know.  Maybe it has something to do with “no longer being conformed to the patterns of this world, but being transformed by the renewing of your mind.”  Maybe we have all convinced ourselves that we don’t like change, don’t need change, are fine “as – is” , and it’s a lie.  Makes sense.  It seems like we have all forgotten who we are;  who we were created to be.  If you listen to high school graduates, they are bent on discovering who they are.  The personality tests, the tests that determine your aptitude for a chosen profession, all these give us glimpses into the people God created us to be, but don’t answer the deep questions.  So maybe we crave change.  The way our bodies crave water.  We don’t think about it, we just need it.  Or maybe we have been lulled into complacency by years and years of wrong thinking.  Or maybe when Adam and Eve ate the fruit in an attempt “be like God” (Gen.  3:5) the struggle for control began.  I don’t know.  I do know that I want to anticipate with joy what God is going to do.  Today.  Tomorrow.  Next week and next year and in my daughter’s life and in my husband’s life and my life.  I want to wake up wondering, “What are you going to do today?  What changes are going to happen around me and in me?”  Looking for, anticipating what He’s going to do.  And when those changes occur, I want to meet them head on with thanksgiving.  If we really mean it when we pray, “Thy kingdom come, Thy will be done,” it’s going to mean a loss of control on our part.  It’s going to mean that things change.

And instead of fighting it…I think I’ll let it happen.

Dizzy.  And faint.  And thinking how much I really hate hospitals- especially emergency rooms.  I'm walking around the hospital trying to find my husband.  I was told he was here by one of his co-workers.  "Prepare yourself, soldier."  Those were his exact words to me when he left.  "Prepare yourself." 

I don't WANT to prepare myself.  Scott and I have both been convinced that things were starting to break for us;  that the sun was going to start shining on us soon;  that this series of "unfortunate events" was coming to a close.  Today does not support that belief.

But I prepare myself, anyway.  When Annie wakes up from her nap I go to the hospital.  There is no parking.  I park in a parking garage, but have no cash on me and it says, "No debit/credit cards accepted."  I'm going in and have no clue how I'm getting out.  My husband is in there, so come what may.

He is sitting on the bed, his head covered in caked blood looking woozy.  I feel my eyes widen and try to smile reassuringly.  That's when I get really dizzy and look for a chair.  Trying to appear nonchalant and ease gracefully into the chair without looking panicky I dump my coat and Annie's on the floor, next to the giant pile of blood-soaked rags.  This is not helping.  This can't really be happening.  Any minute I know I'll wake up and Scott will be next to me with no staples in his head and we will laugh over how crazy my dreams have been lately.  No such luck.

"I am the man who has seen affliction..." (Lamentations 3:1a)
"He has walled me in so I cannot escape;
He has weighed me down with chains. 
Even when I call out or cry for help, He shuts out my prayer.
He has barred my way with blocks of stone;
He has made my paths crooked." (vs. 7-9)

That is how I feel.  I know this must be how Scott feels.  Like shaking our fists at the heavens and shouting, "Are you kidding me with this???!!!  I trusted You!  What are you doing?"  This just doesn't fit in with what I've been reading in Jeremiah.

"I will lead them beside streams of water, on a level path they will not stumble." (31:9)

How does faith fit in when nothing makes sense?  Where do you put your faith when it seems like the tragedy of Job has fallen all around you?  I look back at the same chapter in Lamentations.

Verse 22-24:  "Because of the Lord's great love we are not consumed for His compassions never fail.
They are new every morning;  great is Your faithfulness.
I say to myself, "The Lord is my portion; therefore I will wait on Him."

So here I am waiting.  Praying for a level path and for this winter season in my spiritual life to come to an end.  I'm so ready for spring.

Too much fun

Just because thus bike looks like too much fun...:-)

It's November, and an amazingly beautiful one at that.  Today as I took my walk I was thrilled by all the colors of my surroundings:  bright, vivid reds; glorious oranges; cheerful and unstoppable golds.  Everything seemed to shout in full voice, "There is a God!"  Dare I admit that I stopped under a red tree and exclaimed that very thing?  Yes, I dare!

I love the fact that we set aside a whole month of the year to focus on thankfulness, but I read this in Daniel and it truly made me rethink Thanksgiving:
  Three times a day he (Daniel) got down on his knees and prayed,
giving thanks to his God,
just as he had done before."
(Daniel 6:10b)

Giving thanks was a habit- not a dull and boring habit- but a discipline.  A three-times-a-day discipline.  He started his day with thanks, interrupted the flow of his day with thanks and tied together the loose ends of the day with thanks.  A habit that forces one to focus on the good things that a good God has placed in our everyday moments.  Everyday moments...

Some days are beautiful, filled to the brim with joy and you can't stop the overflow of your heart from just bursting out of you with shouts of thanksgiving.  Some days are normal days, nothing extraordinary, just your basic day.  And other days...well, those days are hard.  And scary.  And sad and depressing and stressful and they try to steal your joy and your sanity and it's all you can do to just get dressed and out of bed and not snap at everything and everybody in sight.  I have been there and had more than my fair share of days like that. 

"I will sacrifice a thank offering to You 
and call on the name of the Lord." (Psalm 116:17)

A "sacrifice of a thank offering."  I love that visual.  It's so easy to get wrapped up in the drama of what is not right with my world.  Someone who is supposed to love me has hurt me deeply, and continues to do so with the absence of actions or words.  I focus on that until my heart is twisted in pain and my bones hurt and my mind goes over it again and again.  What can I give thanks for here?  "Thank You, Lord, for ALL the people who do love on me, who are consistently there and solid and do respond with love.  Thank You for the memories I have with this person and for the fact that I believe You can breathe life into lifeless things.  Thank You for being that kind of God.  For being a Father to the fatherless and the Restorer of wasted years.  For "rebuilding ancient ruins and restoring places long devastated." (Isaiah 61:4)  Thank You for the promise of a place where there will be no more pain, no more tears.  For being my Abba."

Thus the sacrifice.  To get the focus off myself and the "depths of despair" and the situation and shift that focus to my Solution, my only Hope.  Somehow just letting that praise fall from my lips makes Him seem bigger.  When my parents divorced I was...there are no words for what I was.  "Small" is the closest thing I can come up with.  Broken, hopeless, ruined, spinning, lost...these also come to mind.  My mom gave me a giant Rubbermaid tote filled with pictures of our family life together.  Their wedding pictures, my baby pictures- snapshots of a world I loved and depended on, gone with one decision.  I had no clue what to do with all those pictures.  Looking at them shredded me.  So they sat.  In that green Rubbermaid tote.  We moved it from one place to another to another until finally I felt the urge to open that tote and put those pictures into a scrapbook;  pretend it was somebody else's life.  It was fantastic therapy.  When I reached the end of putting that book together, I was able to see it as a celebration of what was.  Able to celebrate that I had a wonderful, loving home that was fun and solid and warm and my parents had loved me and we had played and laughed and cried and LIVED together.  What a blessing!  Putting that book together was not easy, but the payoff was truth- and the truth will always set you free from something.  A "sacrifice of thanksgiving" that led to a true confession of thanks.  And a bit of freedom in the process.  So here I go.  Leaping into this sixth month of motherhood determined to pass this habit, this discipline of thanksgiving three times a day to my daughter.  So that she will grow up focusing on "whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, pure, lovely, admirable, excellent or praiseworthy." (Phillipians 4:8)  "Think about such things!!!"  Pay attention, O my soul!

manna from heaven

A few weeks ago I went with my MOPS group to the pumpkin patch.  There were apples for tasting, pumpkins for picking, sheep for petting and the day was bathed in that glorious fall sunshine.  I noticed a sign posted near the petting zoo that had random facts about sheep;  it literally stopped me in my tracks. 

"If a sheep falls onto it's back, it cannot get back on it's feet without help."

The more I learn about sheep, the more obvious it becomes to me why Christ was constantly comparing us to them!  We need each other.  Period.  We were created for relationship- with God, with each other...relationship.

I have missed my comfortable, known relationships and have been slowly building new ones.  It's awkward and uncomfortable and strange.  Thankfully, my feet feel a bit more grounded since they have found a place to call home, but I still feel like I'm stumbling around unknown territory.   Last week I was feeling especially discouraged in this arena.  And I wallowed a bit.  (Do I really need to confess to that?)  And God was pretty direct with me, which is not our normal dynamic.  Usually He is very gentle, but I think He knew I needed a kick.

He kicked me when I was reading in Exodus.  The children of Israel have just been delivered from Egypt, something they prayed for, dreamed of, were anticipating with great joy.  God brought them out with amazing flourishes of His majesty:  the plagues in Egypt, the parting of the Red Sea...is there anything that could top the parting of the Red Sea?  They actually got to hear His voice and watch Him display His glory at Mt. Sinai.  But still...they are disappointed that He didn't take them to the Promised Land the way they had expected Him to. It was taking too long.  I can relate.

And as I was relating (and possibley even wallowing), I felt God asking me to name ways He has provided for me.  And be specific, please.

"You brought a job for my husband when he wasn't even looking, but we really needed some help.  And not just "a job", but a job he loves and comes home happy from with plenty of energy left to love on both me and Annie."
manna from heaven     

"You provided a home for us to live in rent free with friendly, albeit old-people, neighbors until we found a place to really call home."
manna from heaven

"Our house sold very, very quickly when even our realtor told us not to expect much."
manna from heaven


"I get to stay home and be a mommy, something I have wanted to do since I was five years old.  And it is everything I dreamed of and much, much more."
manna from heaven

"I have walks on Wednesday with girls I am starting to think of as friends, who I love and whose children I love and I look forward to Wednesdays and the conversations and the company."
manna from heaven

"A beautiful home, in the neighborhood I wanted, within walking distance of the library, grocery store and Starbucks!"
manna from heaven

The list continued and continued until I was in tears of gratitude to El Roi- the God who sees me.  He asked me to be specific because He has been specific in providing for me. 

"Praise the Lord, O my soul;
all my inmost being, praise His holy name.
Praise the Lord, O my soul,
and forget not His benefits-
who forgives all your sins and heals all your diseases,
who redeems your life from the pit and crowns you with love and compassion,
who satisfies your desires with good things so that your youth is renewed like the eagle's."
(Psalm 103:1-5)

"Forget not His benefits."  Recognize them, celebrate them, dance with joy about them.  I want to cultivate a spirit of thanksgiving so that His praise is ever ready on my tongue, because He has been so good to me.  Not like I expected, not like I had planned, but He is bringing me back to my feet and surrounding me with exactly what I need.  And for that, I am very grateful.