Disappointment

I can hardly catch a breath, sorrow and heaviness chokes me. My eyes burn. My head aches and my abdomen is pinched with tension. Facing this evening has been like waking up into a bad dream. I wish I could fall asleep to a nightmare right now and leave behind the nauseous knowing that this won't just go away in the morning. I've been awakened from a dream - to the reality that life is unpredictable, ever-changing, unfair, unjust and inconsiderate of our feelings.

I cannot sit or stand, I pace and attempt to go through routine motions, leaving millions of simple things undone for lack of hopeful motivation. I feel as though I am such a mess of a woman with this devastation weighing heavy on my soul. It is amazing how one decision can impact nearly every aspect of life. I cannot undo, or fix or change what is. I can only wait. Like a young chick with an open mouth, trusting in its parent's provision.

Tonight as I watched the lightening flash violently across the sky, illuminating the horizon with it's mesmerizing brilliance, I was reminded that I am so small. That my world and my wants and my hopes and my life is so very, very small; and that He is powerful. My God is mighty to save. I don't say that as the "Christian-eze" thing to say, I know He is. I've tasted and seen that the Lord is good. He has met us in our dark places. He has stood near and comforted in our hurts. He has changed hearts and lives and made provisions and offered wisdom. I know that even though my stomach turns and my heavy heart is weary, anxious and afraid, that He is to be depended upon and that He alone is in control. He gives and takes away. He is where our refuge is found, stability is in the Rock, not in my dreams and hopes for a future. This is not our home.

As much as I desperately, desperately grieve this, the knowledge that He is loving and able cannot be dismissed by the devastation of vanished dreams. I don't believe the foolish words that "everything will work out for the best". It may not. It may work out for the hardest, the ugliest, the most painful and unpleasant. But He will be there. His power is able to provide brilliant light to eradicate the dense darkness - if only for a brief moment, and remind us He is there.

This discouragement is certainly not the most severe trial a person can suffer, but it is a heavy blow for my shallow and weak heart. I may need to stop dreaming altogether, and keep my eyes open to the reality in front of me; not nearly as much fun, but I'm too disappointed to hope, and cannot help but wonder if He prefers a bit of darkness to surround me so that the brilliance of His light is that much more splendid.

Even in our shadows, He remains. Even in our weakness, His hand is strong. I would still rather be uncomfortable where He is than happy where He is not. This I know. It may be all that I know.

So tonight, I will brush away the tears, and consider His character and kindness - and all the many blessings I have been given. I will remember dark places He sustained me in. I will recall wise insight He has spoken into my heart. I will remind my soul of His faithful provision of all that I have ever needed. In my heart, in the Spirit and knowing the truth, I will worship Him. Nothing else matters much for very long. Life and all of its worries and concerns and demands lasts only a short moment, and is over. In the end, our soul is all we keep. My soul has grown tired and weary, anxious of each next second and where it will lead us to. Perhaps I was so intent on traveling to a destination that I neglected to look up and clearly see the lightening, until the darkness set in, and it became impossible to ignore.

Even in my disappointment, I rejoice, because You, O God are good and You, O Lord are loving. Not the "throw your hands up in the air and dance" kind of "rejoice". Not even the "smile and feel glad inside" kind of "rejoice". It is admittedly a weak rejoicing, maybe a forced rejoicing. But a deep-rooted sense that there is cause for celebration and gladness in my soul, because I know the love and forgiveness of Christ - and nothing, not even lost years, deep sorrows and vanished opportunities can separate us from Him. What others see with worldly eyes, He sees with eternal eyes. I am caught between eternity and earth...never quite understanding what is before me. But I trust. And I waver. Then return to trusting.

Thank you, Jesus, for knowing me and holding me, even [and perhaps especially,] when my moment seems so dark and my heart cannot be quieted, so full of thundering emotions.

One Lovely Year

A year ago today, the bright warm sun was streaming into my room and filling the shadows with a glow full of life and excitement. I can still see the smiling, kind face of my midwife as she assured me that I was close to greeting my little girl. The presence of light in the room filled me with a new determination, a burst of energy and strength I did not realize I possessed. With a final push and painful, yet triumphant cry, she slipped into this world and into my longing arms and the day began.

My heart aches a little for that moment to return...for that indescribable feeling to linger just a bit longer. There is nothing in all the world like staring into the eyes of your newborn baby, their insanely tiny fingers wrapped lightly around your own, and soft, damp skin pressed against your chest. I have never in my life experienced such tremendous pain, or exhilarating joy.

What an incredible way to begin a day! Even after being up all night, wavering back and forth between great  anticipation of what was inevitable and overwhelming fear that I could not survive it...all I wanted to do that day was stare at her, and kiss her, and feel her velvety cheeks. I hated to nod off into a slumber and miss a single second of her miraculous presence beside me. I was so deeply in love with this bitty creature I had only just met. How could I possibly love her with this intensity? How could I possibly not?

We took her home hours later...still slightly intoxicated with bliss. The days and loooong nights following would prove to be challenging at the least. I felt entirely unprepared to care for a newborn along with my 2 and 4 year old children. My heart raced and my mind panicked at the very thought of my husband's return to work. But despite the fears and inadequacies I struggled with, this sweet year has been so very lovely. And this surprise baby we had not anticipated or desired has filled our lives with a richness and beauty that cannot be reproduced any other way. It is a fullness that money cannot buy and planning cannot manufacture. It is a gift.

I am ever so thankful that God, in all His wisdom, ignored the dreams in my own heart and gave me a gift I had not asked for and shamefully, I even mourned over a bit. I was so foolish to ever think that I did not want to be needed and loved by this sweet girl. I weep as I consider it. Thank you, Lord, for unseen circumstances and unplanned honors...like sharing a day full of sunshine and new life with the baby girl you have given to us. What a privilege and joy this year of living life together has been for our family!

Happy Birthday to my sweet darling, L.
What an amazing day it was!

A Stranger Joy

What is this I see with my eyes?
The lonely, shadowed places men lie
And weep
Not concerned that others view it
This pain cannot be choked down
It must be heard
All too familiar are the gunshots and the cries
Listen close
A piercing blast and strong men agonize
In their eyes
I see fear met with determination
I see devastation
What's to loose?
Death could free them from the tragedy they live

And I grieve
With this perfect baby in my arms
And I weep to know a mother holds a lifeless child
And I pull her closer still and breathe a prayer
I wrestle with my thoughts then leave them there
Too great to bear
Too big to comprehend in my small heart

Standing in the kitchen
Staring down into the black sink
I am thankful that there's dishes to be washed
Images flash by in my mind
Of dark waves crashing, rushing by
And trailing grand destruction
This should be a dream
This should be a nightmare
But I have seen
And someone lives it
And my heart grieves
While children's laughter warms my heart
From the next room
And I cherish every tiny shriek
Knowing somewhere silence breaks his heart
And a father stares into an empty space
Too soon apart

Greater still a love that cannot be
Shaken by a quaking ground or raging sea
Silenced by the roar of men
Intimidated by a gun
No this love will never run
It holds us firm
And we cannot slip the grip of this grand grace
A peace that passes understanding
Hope that drives a weary soul to carry on
A truth that sets a firm foundation
So if the ground should shake
We will not fear
Though hate accuse
It won't prevail

I pull my baby close and say a prayer
God, meet them there
In the lonely, shadowed places I can't see
Cannot reach
Wipe away the tears the helpless weep
May Your love bring
A stranger joy

Darkness in the Valley

Darkness has fallen upon the little valley where we live. The evening chill has begun to settle in for the night. It is quiet here...with the exception of the whirring of our rickety old fan as it faithfully neutralizes the summer heat. But my heart and mind are full of commotion.  

Fear loudly challenges every thought. And Discouragement threatens each moment. All the while Hope cheers on, like an energetic high school girl, "Gimme a "P"...gimme an "E"..."R"..."S"..."E"..."V"..."E"..."R"..."E"! And Joy refuses to be silenced...even as Worry and Cynicism shoot disdainful glares her way, as if to say, "Grow up and taste reality, you have nothing to say worth listening to." This is the stage set to the chaos of my thoughts tonight.

My week...my last month even, has been full of tragic moments turned hopeful; discouraging news enveloped by new possibilities, and frightening circumstances passing without leaving much more than a mere shadow behind to attest that indeed they had been nearby. Yet for all the grace-filled outcomes, my heart still wrestles with the shadows I have brushed up against these past days. And the darkness outside reminds me to be afraid...while the Spirit whispers, "Hush, my darling...do not be afraid for I am with You. Do not be dismayed for I am Your God." And because in my heart I linger here somewhere between the darkness and the light...all I see are shadows...and they tempt me to fear them.

My mind is dizzy with anxiety, yet determination and inexplicable calm embrace my spirit and hold me still.

And maybe this is part of His desire in allowing these shadows to touch me. Maybe He wants me to wrestle with these thoughts. Not once or twice...but over and over until every muscle of my spiritual and emotional self has been built up to meet these dark adversaries and defeat them; the dark foes of fear and doubt and a cynical, worrisome spirit, and anxiety and discouragement. These well-practiced opponents must be met squarely and fiercely...or they may slyly enter unnoticed and settle deep within our selves where one’s will alone could never pry them loose. Maybe this is preparation.

I must know that He is to be trusted. I must know that He is to be worshipped in every circumstance. I must choose to let Joy sing, "Blessed be Your name!", when Cynicism and Worry attempt to intimidate her. I must be prepared to cling to Him when all the stormy winds of life shake and press upon and toss my world around.

When my husband has no job...when I see loved ones being destroyed by the temptress Alcohol…when my family and friends are airlifted to the hospital...when an SUV runs a red light on the highway and hits people I love...when strange men creep near my window...He is there. He is here. And even the blanket of night cannot hide His presence. He is.

"even the darkness will not be dark to You; the night will shine like the day, for darkness is as light to You." - Psalm 139:12

So, Hope will continue to cheer; I will give Joy a voice in each day...in every moment...in all circumstances.

"Be joyful always; pray continually; give thanks in all circumstances, for this is God's will for you in Christ Jesus." 1 Thessalonians 5:16-18

And I will trust that He is here. I will rest in His strong hand. I will know that He is good...and I will worship Him...even in the dark valley, the valley where I live and the valleys I may face in this brief life. I will fear no evil, for You are with me.

"Blessed be Your name when the sun's shining down on me

When the world's all as it should be

Blessed be Your name.

Blessed be Your name on the road marked with suffering

Though there's pain in the offering,

Blessed be Your name..."

-Tree 63

Little Sister / Big Brother

Little Sister:  "Oh no!" [said in a very sad tone, with her head hung low]

Big Brother:  "What?  What's the matter R.?"

Little Sister: [deep, dramatic sigh] "Well, there is something wrong with my room."

Big Brother: [with a puzzled expression on his face] "What is wrong with your room?"

Little Sister: [now with hurried and concerned excitement] "Um, there is something wrong with my room that makes it scary."

Big Brother:  "Ohhh.  Well, is it the darkness?  Or is it that the closet door is open?"

Little Sister:  "It is that the closet door is open and there is darkness in there."

Big Brother:  [now in a VERY big brotherly, step-back-and-let-me-handle-this-for-you sort of a voice] "Ok, R.  Don't worry, I'll go with you.  I'm not afraid of the closet...or the darkness."

And then Big Brother proceeds to lead the way to the scary closet filled with darkness and shut the door.  He marches back to Little Sister and proudly announces, "There you go, R.  I took care of it for you."

Mama:  [smiles]

A Mother's Day Story

I was busy cutting veggies and arranging trays of fruit when my life was on the verge of forever being disrupted; my perspective about to be significantly challenged; and God was preparing my heart for a love that was unlike any other I’d previously known.

My family was coming over for dinner that evening. It was Saturday. Since my family and my husband’s family live near us, we try to spend holidays with both families when we can. This particular year, Saturday night was to be spent with my family, and Sunday, the actual holiday, would be spent with his.

It was an exciting time for me. Nearing my due date, I was full of both joyous anticipation and, to be perfectly honest, unspoken terror. [Ok…well, mostly unspoken. I spoke of it to some…to the few who would endure my irrational panic.] The news that our first child was on the way was a delightful and frightening surprise for me. Although, my husband and I had discussed the possibility of children, our conclusion had always been: we are SO not ready.

My biggest “not ready” complaint? The process. Yes. The fear of the unknown was enough intimidation to quench any ambition of mothering a child in the near future. Maybe I would be ready someday when I was older and braver, I reasoned. [Because, naturally, I would just become more courageous with age, right...?] But in this instance, unfortunately for my ambitions, the scenario was worse than unknown. I had vague ideas of what carrying and delivering a baby might be like. My imagination, fueled by what little I did know, was even scarier than simply not knowing. I just couldn’t bring myself to intentionally put my body in a situation where it would be required to endure the agony I so vividly envisioned in my mind. But, thankfully, I’m not so in control as I might like to think.

I remember telling a co-worker the afternoon before I took a pregnancy test that we would want to wait at least 3 more years. [What did I think would change in 3 years? Why 3 years? I don’t know. I just remember offering that number after she asked when we planned to start having children.] I took the test assuming I would alleviate my suspicion…not really giving much thought to the remaining option that I may actually prove my inkling true.

The odd thing to me, now looking back, is that my concern was not so much that we did not have the space…which we did not, by the cultural standards. Nor was I too concerned that we would struggle financially, especially if I quit work and stayed home with the baby, like we wanted to do…and we definitely faced financial challenges. Nope. My big worry was short term, self-centered, and simple; I did not want the pain.

Ironically, I have since delivered 3 children naturally. Amazing that she who is one of the whiniest, wimpiest people I know, actually did it…3x! We also still live in the same home…now with not just one child, but three. AND have made it on one modest income since the day we felt convicted by the Lord to trust Him and I quit my job [forfeiting over half our income…] to stay home with my baby. He has never once failed to meet our needs, and at times, we have just been so in awe at the ways He has chosen to provide for us.

So, on that Saturday, not knowing what the future held…and not wanting to think too much about it, I prepared and hosted dinner for my Mother and the rest of my family, all the while feeling, but trying desperately to ignore, my contractions as they grew stronger. By the time the last guest walked out our front door, I had to sit down and finally tell my husband, “I think I might be in labor.”

The contractions were not very close together yet. I took a shower and finished gathering items for the hospital. We called and headed out. I labored all night, walking up and down the halls of the hospital…while my husband slept on a bench nearby. I envied him.

I was so young, and unprepared, and afraid, but with my husband [finally awake] and my own Mother by my side, I welcomed our first child into the world – on Mother’s Day. And by the strength and grace that God provided, I endured the dreaded pain.

I have to say that the experience was empowering, in a way. I had no idea I was strong enough to go through that. I truly believed at one point that I was quite possibly going to die. [I was nowhere near death; I’m just a dramatic big baby – although in my defense, I was in a heap of hurtin’ this time.] But all of it…the pregnancy, the labor, the birth – the learning to mother a baby…it all made me realize that I was stronger than I expected myself to be. And that the Lord was able to carry me through what appeared to be insurmountable obstacles, with surprisingly little effort. [Hello?!? – a baby should NOT be able to fit through that space!!! – That’s just weird! AND…how in the world does a woman’s abdomen, first of all, stretch out that far…and secondly, ever return to any sort of normalcy…it’s ridiculous. I’m impressed. Nice work, God.]

One of my sweetest first memories with our son was either the first or second day we were home with him. I was sitting in our recliner holding him while he slept. And I suddenly was just overwhelmed with love for him. I started to cry. [See, I told you before, I’m a crier.] And the Lord spoke to my heart, “I love you. I love my Son, and I allowed and chose for Him to endure great pain for you.” I could not imagine allowing anything painful to happen to my son. I looked down at his leg. [My son had been accidentally significantly burned by hospital staff while being prepped for his PKU. This is another story altogether.] I felt his pain with him. I was so angry that this had happened…I would have never allowed it.

I can’t say that I am completely over my fear of pain, although, I think I have a new perspective. I realize that I can endure more pain than I think I am able to. I realize that pain can produce something wonderful and miraculous. I realize that love required my Savior to endure more suffering than I will likely ever come near to facing, so I might not be held captive to sin and death.

         “Who for the joy set before Him endure the cross…”
                                                                 Hebrews 12

He endured it "for the joy set before Him".  I only endured because there was no other option.  If I had a choice, mid-labor, to continue "for the joy set before me", I may very likely have decided I actually didn't want a baby that bad.  [At that point I didn't even understand the joy that I was about to experience - or how intense my labor would become.]  Yet, there was no other way...that baby was going to come out somehow...and it would be painful. But, unlike me. Jesus endured His suffering willingly, knowing both the cost and the reward, for the joy of loving us...for the joy of pleasing the Father. 

I’m thankful my Mother endured pain to deliver me.

I feel blessed to be given the opportunity to endure the pain necessary to deliver my 3 children.

I am overwhelmed that God would endure pain to deliver us.

That Sunday was a very special Mother’s Day for me; it was my very first; my son was born; my Mother was by my side. It was just special. And my life has since been certainly altered, my thoughts completely refocused, and my heart has been invaded by that tiny, beautiful creature I had endured such pain to meet. I am so glad for it all. I’m thankful for the lessons I am learning. I’m thankful for each day I am given to love and be loved by the children God has placed in our care. What a privilege and honor. Happy Mother’s Day!

My sweet things.