Hope

It's Christmas.
There are lights on the tree, lights on the house, lights IN the house casting magic and wonder on my walls.
Santa is at the mall and in front of the grocery stores ringing a bell and I even saw him at a church.
Starbucks has it's "holiday" cups and Christmas songs are playing everywhere.
People are smiling and shopping and Christmas cheer seems to ooze from every shopping bag and store I have visited.
Christmas cards are arriving, bringing news from old friends and new.  Their kids have grown; she cut her hair; they look happy.
But not everything fits so perfectly into my Christmas cookie cutters.
We still have real life happening.   Marriages are ending; cancer is returning; surgery is around the corner; families are broken or simply annoying...this is real life.
I never know what to do with it, but ESPECIALLY  at Christmas I'm lost.
Today as I am on my knees weeping and questioning what God is doing, I think of Mary.  And King David.  
Here is Mary.
Sweet, young, "chosen by God" is what the angel said. "The Spirit of the Lord will overshadow you." He was pretty impressive so she was inclined to believe him.  "Blessed are you among women," is what he said.  So what was she doing on the floor of a stable?  Having a baby who would "be very great and the Son of the Most High"?  This did not feel very blessed.  There was no nurse, no midwife, no mom.  Just the dirty floor of a stable and some cows.  Maybe God could have chosen someone else?  Because this was ridiculous.
Then we have David.
A poet and musician. Hanging out with some sheep until his father remembered he was also part of the family and called him to stand in front of Samuel. That is when Samuel anointed him to be the next King of Israel and the Spirit of the Lord came mightily upon him. Then has was running for his life.  Hiding in caves and leaving his family and best friend and trying not to be killed.  This is not how one chosen of God should live.  There should be pillows and comfort and no threats of violence.  Maybe God could have chosen someone else?  And David could go back to his sheep and poetry?
Both of these people were chosen by God and His very Spirit was with them, but was it worth it?  All the pain and confusion and terror and heartbreak?  
I'm watching people, chosen by God, walk through pain.
I'm watching people, chosen by God, walk through fear.
And I have to believe it's worth it to be chosen by God.
See, I don't think this is it.  Hebrews 11 is the "Hall of Fame" for people of faith.  And tucked in the middle it says,
"All these people were still living by faith when they died. They did not receive the things promised; they only saw them and welcomed them from a distance, admitting that they were foreigners and strangers on earth. ¹⁴ People who say such things show that they are looking for a country of their own. ¹⁵ If they had been thinking of the country they had left, they would have had opportunity to return. ¹⁶ Instead, they were longing for a better country—a heavenly one."

I understand longing for a better country.  My favorite Christmas song states that "a weary world rejoices for yonder breaks a new and glorious morn."  We are a weary world looking for a glorious morn.  Plus, I'm a mom.  I'm always looking for a NOT weary world.
And it came. 
Jesus came.
Into this dark and weary world.
The darker the world, the brighter the flame of hope can shine. 
It may sound hokey, but it's true and I believe it.  When my soul is struggling to hold onto hope I can ask, in the words of David,

"Why, my soul, are you downcast?
    Why so disturbed within me?
Put your hope in God,
    for I will yet praise him,
    my Savior and my God."  (Psalm42:5)

Hebrews 11 also reminds me that "faith is confidence in what we hope for and assurance about what we do not see."
So even when I can't see it, I know God is good.
Even when I can't see it, I know God is love.
Even when I can't see it, I know that God has written us onto the palm of His hand, written us INTO the palm of His hand and He's got this.  
Even when I can't see it, I know that "all things work together for good to those who love God." (Romans 8:28)
He doesn't always cause the disaster or diagnosis or situation.  But He works with it and makes beauty from ashes, joy from mourning and turns my despair into praise (Isaiah 61:3).
This I have lived.
This I have seen.
So this Christmas, as we all deal with real life, may I hold your face in my hands and say with great compassion:

"May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace as you trust in Him, so that you may overflow with hope by the power of the Holy Spirit." (Romans 15:13)

We are even told we will need the power of the Holy Spirit to overflow with hope.
It's not an easy thing.
So, friends, let's all do the hard thing and hope and pray for that which we cannot see.

May we all overflow with hope by the power of the Holy Spirit- especially this Christmas.

And can you just take a minute and sit by your tree or your fire or a candle and ponder these words:

"My people will be able to camp safely in the wildest places and sleep in the woods without fear.  I will cause my people and their homes around my holy hill to be a blessing. 

And I will send showers, showers of blessings, which will come just when they are needed.  The orchards and fields of my people will yield bumper crops and everyone will live in safety.  When I have broken their chains of slavery and rescued them from those who enslaved them. then they will know that I am the LORD....

They will live in safety and no one will make them afraid...

You are my flock, the sheep of my pasture.

You are my people and I am your God, says the Sovereign LORD."

(Ezekiel 34:25b-31)

There's something to hope for.

Yes- I homeschool my kids

Today I was sitting at one of my daughter's activities and I heard a group of moms chatting.  Not one to shy from eavesdropping (especially when my youngest is napping on my lap) I was surprised to hear one of the moms exclaim, "Homeschool moms are the smartest women I know!"

I wanted to throw up.

This- THIS- has been my challenge since starting my homeschooling journey.  I'm not on the proverbial "Homeschooling Bandwagon".  I believe there are multiple options for educating our children and this is just one of them.  I know women who work full-time, part-time and stay home and they are a mix of brilliance and motivation.  Choosing to homeschool doesn't make you a genius and amazing mother any more than working full-time makes you a neglectful mom who only cares about money.

Can we all just grow up?

I attended a private Christian school.  My classmates were a stellar group of people and I loved school-every part of it.  Well, except when Caleb made fun of my clothes in the first grade or Rachel was so mean in middle school or...there were definite "blah" moments, but overall it was a great experience.  I don't know if I would have loved it so much if I had been in a different class or a different school, but this was how the cookie crumbled and it crumbled pretty good for me.

I have friends who attended public schools.  Some had great experiences, others did not. 
I have friends who teach in public schools; I have friends who teach in private schools.  These women are amazing and it would be an honor to have them teach my girls.  I think we all need to be supportive of public schools especially, because the odds are extremely high that my future son-in-laws are sitting in a class there right now and I don't want them to be idiots. 

Seriously.

My children's future neighbors, friends, husbands and communities are sitting in schools all over this world and I want to do what I can to ensure they are getting a quality education.  Just because we do school at home doesn't mean we don't care about what's happening in public education.  People, we are all connected and the sooner we just embrace it and work with it, the better.

When I told my husband that we should think about homeschooling, my oldest daughter was maybe one week old.  She was so precious!  And small!  I didn't want to be away from her.
He asked me if I was going to start wearing denim jumpers and no make-up.
Yes, there is a stigma involved....

But as I met families who homeschooled I envied their relationships.  The relationships within the family were tight in a non-creepy way!  The siblings enjoyed each other.  The kids enjoyed their parents and vice versa.
That's what I wanted and that is why we started homeschooling.
My kids have endless hours to play together.  We go to the park on a whim and do science experiments together.  We learn about other countries and the kids who live there.  We spend hours writing books and reading books and we really, really enjoy being together.

This is what it looks like in my house.
This is what I WANT it to look like at my house.

I didn't do this out of fear or because I am against something.
I did it so we could have more time together as a family.

That was my motivation.

At a recent "Mom's Night" with a local Christian homeschooling group I was considering joining, I was shocked when the first two women who walked up to me immediately started mocking the transgender community.  I have never seen these women, don't know what they believe (although I started to get a way strong sense) and it was the most bizarre choice of conversation I could imagine.  After listening to them mock and judge and state over and over that THIS is the reason they homeschool, there was finally space for me to say something.

"Don't you think it would be the saddest thing if your child felt they were in the wrong body?  Don't you think it breaks the heart of God, who put us together with such intention and love and deliberation to have His children wrestle with this?  Don't you think it's His kindness that led all of us to repentance?  Until I see more kindness coming from the church on these subjects, I think we should all shut up.  I don't think it's funny;  I think it's sad.  And I do know that Jesus never mocked people."

Then I walked away. 

So, so sad.  In fairness, there were some women there who I had a lovely conversation with and I left with some helpful tools in my teaching.  But it left a really bad taste in my mouth.

So, where do we fit?  My little family and me?  We are Christians and our days ARE full of Bible reading, memorization and wrestling with making choices that make Jesus' heart happy.  I think we would be doing this regardless of where we did school. 

I have Christian friends who have told me I'm robbing my kids of the chance to be a light in the dark world; that I'm denying them very important school experiences (like Middle School?!) and I better not even consider homeschooling through High School.

Thanks for the vote of confidence.

I have Christian friends who have told me that sending your kids to school is missing God's calling on your life as a mother.  (Oh, yes.  This has been said.)

In the meantime, I'm the one who will stand before God and give an account for the choices I make for MY family.  As the mommy, I get to make these big choices.  I don't make them alone;  Scott has a very loud voice and opinion, too.  Together, we revisit this choice every year and see how it's working for our family.

So far, it's working really well.  I'm having a blast and so are my kids.

So, as we are closer to summer, may I just wish you joy and wisdom as you navigate these educational minefields.  Whatever you choose, know that I think you're still a pretty great parent and am happy to be your friend.

There's a vote of confidence for you! 

Hope

Stage 4 Cancer.

A two-year old beaten to death by his mother’s boyfriend.

Sudan.

A church in Egypt.

This world is drenched in pain.  Once in a while the candy coating of “I’m fine’s” and forced smiles break and we are leveled by the sheer neediness of this world.

We are walking into “Holy Week”; the week leading up to the cross, where Jesus took all this world’s brokenness and let it break Him.

Sometimes, on this side of the cross, it’s just too much.

Things we love and hold and believe in suddenly turn to death and we are left looking at a broken and bloody Jesus.

The disciples.  They know; they understand.  They left all they knew about themselves and let Him redefine their identities.  They watched Him speak to the storm and it listened.  They watched Him heal the broken, restore sight and sanity, raise the dead to life.  They saw Him take the small offering of a boy and multiply it to feed thousands.  They had walked with Him, laughed with Him, questioned Him and with each passing day found themselves really believing He was the Messiah- the Promised One they had anticipated for always. They left their homes, incomes, stability and reputations for Him.  And because He loved them He warned them: “We are going to Jerusalem and everything that is written by the prophets about the Son of Man will be fulfilled.  He will be handed over to the Gentiles.  They will mock Him, insult Him, spit on Him, flog Him and kill Him.  On the third day He will rise again.” (Luke 18:31-33)

But they didn’t understand.

And suddenly they were standing at the cross and everything they had believed in was broken and bloody and covered in death.

They hid behind locked doors, denying they even knew Him.  Terrified, these men who had witnessed miracles I cannot fathom, hid in fear because it was just too much.

It’s what I do when things are too much.  Just this week I got news that made me crawl in bed, cover my head and weep.  When my parents divorced, I spent weeks lying in bed listening to sad music trying to muster the courage to face life again.  I have friends who have buried marriages and husbands and babies and sometimes it’s just too much to be on this side of the cross.

The earth quakes and rocks split; the sky goes dark and thunder roars.  Curtains split and somewhere a voice howls, “My God!  WHY HAVE YOU FORSAKEN ME????”

What do we do with our faith when it comes to this point?  What do we do with a God that allows these things to happen?  We say He is love and we sing the He is enough for us, but what about those times when He isn’t?  What do we do when we come to Jesus and He just looks beaten and bloody and dead?

I think we give space for grief.  We run our fingers over the splintered wood of those beams; we cry for what should have been.  We pound our fists against heaven and throw all our questions to the only One who can take it; the only One who has taken it.

We pour ourselves out to Him until we are spent. 

Then we look in the empty tomb. 

The men weren’t going to go.  They were still behind locked doors.  But the women knew that things had to be done; life keeps happening and you keep showing up.  Clothes need washing, people must be fed and sooner or later we rise and do what is necessary.  That’s what these women did.  They showed up at the tomb to care for the dead body of their Lord. 

He wasn’t there.

And as Mary stood outside that empty, empty tomb, weeping, bending over, searching for something that was not there, two angels showed up.

It’s called hope.

She turned around and Jesus was there.  He was right in front of her but her grief was so big she couldn’t even see Him…but He saw her.

“Mary.”

Once He spoke, she saw Him for who He was.

No longer bleeding and dying and covered with death.

This is the resurrected Jesus- this is where I put my faith.  The cross is so important, but it’s on the other side of it we find life; the “Way, the Truth and the Life.”   I serve a Jesus who is life itself.  He is the One with eyes like blazing fire.  His voice is like the rushing waters.  He holds the stars in His hand and His face is like the sun shining in all its brilliance. (Revelation 1:14-16)

“I am the Living One; I was dead and behold I am alive for ever and ever.” (Rev. 1:18)

He breathes life into spaces that were dead.  One day He will loose justice on this earth and everything that was wrong and evil will be made right.  He will wipe every tear from our eyes and take back His kingdom.  “The kingdom of this world has become the kingdom of our Lord and of the Christ, and He will reign for ever and ever.” (Revelation 11:15)

He will ride with the armies of heaven on white horses and avenge the atrocities that brought us to the cross. (Revelation 19:14)

There will be no more death or mourning or crying or pain; everything will be made new. (Rev. 21:4-5)

One day every creature in heaven and on earth and under the earth and on the sea, and all that is in them, will sing:

“To Him who sits on the throne and to the Lamb be praise and honor and glory and power, for ever and ever!” (Rev. 5:13)

This world is drenched in pain, sometimes drenched in death.  But when I look beyond the cross and see the Jesus that beat death to take back what was His…

This, THIS  is Easter. 

The call to leave our flesh, with everything it chases and desires, at the foot of the cross and walk to the other side, letting eternity get under our skin and Jesus renew our minds so we are actively looking for ways to bring His kingdom here, now.  Looking for people to bring to the foot of the cross so they can see His love stretched out and hear Him calling them to real life, real hope.

To let the heartbeat of heaven become our own and discover that our treasures are not of this world- we can give ourselves over to things that last forever.

To drench ourselves in grace rather than death.

This Easter, let’s learn to walk with the Jesus of Revelation; to stop grieving like people who have no hope (1 Thess. 4:13) and start living like people chasing an everlasting Hope.

“Amen.  Come Lord Jesus.

The grace of the Lord Jesus be with God’s people.” (Rev. 22:20b-21)

His Abundant Goodness

"One generation will commend Your works to another;
they will tell of Your mighty acts...
They will celebrate Your abundant goodness and joyfully sing of Your righteousness."
(Psalm 145:4,7)

We are sitting at the breakfast table.  The girls are eating peanut butter toast and pears, their cheeks covered in the sticky peanut butter.  The topic of the morning?  Jehovah Jirah.  God, my provider. 

It's this verse we are talking about with sticky fingers:

"My God shall supply all your needs according to His riches in glory."

(Phillipians 4:19 NIV)

The Message says it like this:

"You can be sure that God will take care of everything you need, HIs generosity exceeding even yours in the glory that pours out from Jesus."

So, it's wants vs. needs that we are talking about this fine morning.  

 

My three year old says, "I needed a Minnie Mouse dress and God gave me that!"

I have to smile.  In the world of my three year old, anything Minnie Mouse is considered a need.  My six year old says, "No! Food, water, love.  These are needs.  Minnie Mouse is a want.  Mommy, tell me about a time when God provided for your needs."

She knows these stories.  I have told them to her every time we talk about gratitude. 

Spokane. 

This is where I learned the true difference between wants vs. needs. 

Our first Christmas there was our first Christmas with Annie.

We had no money for gifts; we were still recovering from Yakima. 

Yakima did us in, in more ways than one.

I gave Scott a box of Cocoa Pebbles.  That was it.

We got very creative with the rest of our gifts that year, but did nothing for Annie.  We let the grandparents do their thing and she was perfectly happy.

My mama heart struggled with that one.

It wasn't the way I imagined our first Christmas with our baby girl, but that's one way God was working contentment out in me.

Spokane.

There was NO ROOM in our budget for wants. 

No room for trips to Gymboree;  consignment store all the way if the girls needed something.

No room for Target, ice cream, new underwear or shoes. 

We made do with what we had and were so very happy.  It sounds crazy, but the simplicity that led us to gratitude was really beautiful. 

Except for that one winter. 

I was pregnant with Margi and Annie was three years old.  Her feet had grown straight out of her shoes, but there was literally no work and our paycheck just covered rent, heat and those necessary bills.  There was nothing left for groceries, let alone new shoes. 

I remember sitting on the bathroom floor, begging God to make some space.  Swallowing any pride that was left, I texted the grandparents about the shoe situation.  Didn't bring up groceries.

That week three pairs of shoes appeared. 

"My God shall supply all your needs."

I went to worship practice that day with a heart wrestling between fear and trust.

"God, I want to trust you with my needs...but it's not just MY needs, here.  It's the needs of little people!! I'm so frightened and don't know what to do or how to trust you.  Help. Please?"

When I arrived, my worship pastor handed me an envelope.

"Somebody left this for you in my box," he said.

I opened it to find enough money to cover our grocery bill that month.

"Who left this?!" 

I couldn't even believe it.  This happened in books, not to me!

He didn't know.  It had been left without a note or anything. 

This is the body of Christ.  I have been honored to be on the receiving end of people being His hands, feet and heart and it always reduces me to tears. 

"My God shall supply all your needs."...

                                                                        ...and maybe some wants?

Right after Margi was born, we were discussing gratitude in my Bible study group.

I started sharing about my struggle with contentment.

Sharing about how I am so grateful to have clean water to make morning tea.

But once in a while I couldn't help just WANTING a pair of Uggs.

Everywhere I went I saw all these cute, trendy moms in their cute, trendy jeans wearing their cute, trendy haircuts and cute, trendy Uggs.

I wanted to be cute and trendy.  Didn't NEED to, but really, REALLY wanted to.

I shared that God was working contentment out in me, and every time I thought I was making progress I would see those stupid Uggs and realize I had a long way to go.

The next week, there were Ugg boxes on the table for each new mom in our Bible study. 

There were gift cards in each one with enough money to go get the Ugg boots.

I struggled spending that money on ONE PAIR OF BOOTS!  As mentioned above, Scott and I were living in the land of needs.  Wants weren't even really on our radar.

But I did it.

And LOVED it!

Still wear those boots and every time I wear them am reminded of God's "abundant goodness."

I have many stories of God providing:

other moms sharing clothes their girls had outgrown so I didn't have to buy any;

friends cleaning out their closet and giving me what they were done with so I could have something new;

friends sharing maternity clothes and baby paraphernalia;

boxes in the mail with clothes and starbucks cards and encouragement;

women bringing meals and watching my girls while I had post partum depression and just couldn't function.

God has always provided for my needs.

I know that God loved me before the grocery money miracle and Ugg boot story.  He didn't have to come through in those ways or any other ways to "prove" His love. 

And now..

I cannot wrap my mind around the season we are in, now.

We bought a house, have a car with a third row, can buy groceries without panicking and Scott has a job where they actually have work for him to do and they recognize how crazy smart he is and they want to reward that.

If the girls need something, we can fit that into the budget.

We can breathe.

That is the most amazing gift God has given my family in this season. 

We can breathe.

Things are still tight because I still stay home.  We say "yes" to that and "no" to many other things.  And we are both on board with that, which is so crazy important.

I feel like Paul, who said in Phillipians 4:12-14,

"I've learned by now to be quite content whatever my circumstances.  I'm just as happy with little as with much, with much as with little.

I've found the recipe for being happy whether full or hungry,

hands full or hands empty.

Whatever I have, wherever I am, I can make it through anything in the One who makes me who I am.

I don't mean that your help didn't mean a lot to me-it did!

It was a beautiful thing that you came alongside me in my troubles."

I've learned what it means to be rich in the things that matter.  And this has become my goal.  To sit every morning, being the "generation that commends Your works to another."

Teaching my girls what really matters and how to reach for that and give meaning to that, while still celebrating the glitter that comes and goes. 

In all seasons.

To look for "every good and perfect gift that comes down from above." (James 1:17)

The good gifts can all be traced back to His hands.

And they have been there in every season.

Sometimes you just have to look harder.

"The gospel is absurd and the life of Jesus is meaningless unless we believe that He lived, died, and rose again with but one purpose in mind:
to make brand- new creation.
Not to make people with better morals but to create a community of prophets and professional lovers,
men and women who would surrender to the mystery of the fire of the Spirit that burns within,
who would live in ever greater fidelity to the omnipresent Word of God,
who would enter into the center of it all,
the very heart and mystery of Christ,
into the center of the flame that consumes, purifies, and sets everything aglow with peace, joy boldness, and extravagant, furious love.
This, my friend, is what it really means to be a Christian."
-Brennan Manning

I have been wondering about this, what it really means to be a Christian.
I have been embarrassed by how vocal my tribe of Christ-followers have been about certain issues and how silent we have been on others.
You would think we have forgotten, "It is for freedom that Christ has set us free. Stand firm, then, and do not let yourselves be burdened again by a yoke of slavery. (Galatians 5:1)
The loud voices I hear are not shouting freedom, but slavery. 
I fear we are becoming slaves ourselves.
Again.

Isaiah said it so beautifully:
"You're the preacher of good news.
Raise your voice! Make it good and loud, Jerusalem.
You're the preacher of good news!
Speak loud and clear.  Don't be timid!
Tell the cities of Judah,
'Look! Your God!'
Look at Him!  God, the Master, comes in power, ready to go into action.
He is going to pay back His enemies and reward those who have loved Him.
Like a shepherd, He will care for His flock,
gathering lambs in His arms,
Hugging them as He carries them,
leading the nursing ewes to good pasture."
(Isaiah 40:9-11, MSG)

My mother-in-law, a crazy huge blessing in my life, gave me that last verse after I had my first child.  One version says, "He gently leads those who have young."
I clung to that verse the first year of motherhood because I had NO CLUE what I was doing.
Still don't, but I have learned to roll with it.
I loved that imagery of God, this great and mighty God who had gone to battle for His people, gathering them into His arms and leading them.
I still do.

I love that He carries justice and tenderness and His people.  People who have been forgiven and redeemed and who are proclaiming...?

Are we proclaiming love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, gentleness, faithfulness and self-control?  Our very lives should be declaring this!  My words, my steps, my responses, my dailies of life. This is the fruit of abiding with Jesus, the One this whole thing is about. My daughter read to me this morning about the very heavens declaring the glory of God-the skies displaying His handiwork. 

I don't do half as good a job as the heavens.

I'm caught up in my corner of the world.  Things like laundry and order and disciplining my kids and doing my hair and changing the sheets and getting to the grocery store and making dinner and...life.  It makes me complacent when it comes to what really matters and dulls me to the magic and the mystery of this "flame that consumes, purifies and sets everything aglow."

It dulls me to Christ in me and Christ in you and my eyes are blind and my heart is stone and my ears are deaf and I want more than anything to be alive. 
To hear and see and live and find my place by His side. 
To love you and see you and see your need and see Jesus in your need so I can love Him.
By loving you.
With "peace, joy, boldness, and extravagant, furious love."
I fail even within these walls of my home!
The needs brought to me throughout my day are just enough, thank you.
Endless band-aids, hugs, songs and words of comfort given.  Teeth brushed, meals made, fun had and at seven o'clock mama clocks out. 
Good luck if you need me after that!
Is that "extravagant, furious love"?
If you have ever met me, you probably know there is nothing "bold, extravagant or furious" about me.  Someone recently described me as "mousy"- that might be going to far (!!!), but you get the idea. 

So when presented with this possibility of being a woman who would "enter into the very center of it all"...I don't know.
Is that where freedom is? Do we have to step away from this swirling chaos or comfortable routin and step into JESUS
-His truth and purity and honesty; His simplicity -
to discover what "life abundant" is all about?
I think so.
It's what the disciples did.  
They left their nets where they dropped them. 
What do I need to drop to follow Him?
The only way for me to find Him is to seek Him. 
The only way for me to be an expression of His love to
this culture,
this space,
this moment
is to step into the very center of it all and beg to see His face.
And even if He only brushes against me, I will have lived.


Oh, God.
Meet me here. 
You made me with this set of strengths and weaknesses. 
You created this personality and set it in me with purpose. 
The desires, the struggles, the holy and the flesh-this is me. 
Your creation.
And you know me. 
You know what I was created for. 
You see me when I am fully alive and You see me weeping and wondering where the meaning is.
You hold me-
"like a shepherd, you will care for your flock,
gathering the lambs in your arms. Hugging and carrying and leading..."
How I love You.
And how I trust You.
You know my questions; my frustrations.
My hesitation to be linked with anything other than just YOU. 
You know my tendency to get lost in the mystery, the wonder, the beauty and the poetry
 and my reluctance to face the holy in the margins.
Forgive me for not seeing you.
Put a longing in me for justice, mercy and humbleness, then guide me. 
If I'm Your hands and feet and expression of love to this generation of people, show me what to do.
If I'm Your hands and feet and expression of love to this house full of people, show me what to do.
I want to do this well.
I want to hear you say, "Well done, little one."
I want to get to You with all my love spent,
all my hope given,
my hands open in generousity and
my heart full.
There is so much need.
And so many opinions.
And so much noise.
Quiet me with Your love. (Zeph. 3:17)
Then awaken me to You.
Daily.
 

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.