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.

She

Oh she.

She steals your gaze away from me

You think you take advantage, she

Deceives

And leaves

You a mess of a man

You bleed

And everything you touch

Turns color with stain

Not a day

Goes by that you are free

You are a slave to her greed

All that is lovely, her ugliness thieves

Though her skin is airbrushed for you

And her hair is silky and smooth

And her eyes invite

Your body and mind

It’s lies.

She is a lie.

A beautiful lie.

She’s a trap to ensnare you

Your devotion and consequently

Your investment

Oh that you could see the desperate ruin

She trails behind wherever she is welcomed

No one escapes undamaged

Un-ravaged

You couldn’t fathom the reaches of pain

That you cause

If you’d pause

Maybe then

But my friend

You are blind

Shortsighted and weak

Try to prove yourself strong

But you’re foolish and wrong

Wisdom knew all along

But you never listen

To voices of reason

Or insight

But pleasure

Rules over your life

Every aspect it plagues

Dissatisfied

‘Cause it’s wind that you chase

She is beauty she’s stunning

Her welcome is warm

She’s too simple to argue

Too convenient to ignore

But what she’ll never tell you

Is she’s strip you down bare

She’ll tear up your family

Your children, your wife

She will rip through your finances

Your heart, soul, and life

When you think you’ve escaped her

And her constant barrage

That torments your mind

Until nothing’s enough

When the woman who holds you

Cannot excite your love

And the children who trust you

Have to wade through the mud

Of the mess that you’ve left them in

Or even worse still

Follow in your dark footsteps

And into her will

Or grow to become that same object you lust for

Men, women are hurting

And children are lost

And you are a sorry and sad helpless lot

Once you let her control

Everything that you’ve got

Her addiction is real and it’s strong and it’s not

Going to satisfy

No, she teases…she plays

She takes your hand gently and leads you astray

She throws herself at you

She tempts and she taunts

She whispers, she messages

Texts and she knocks

She’ll knock you right down

Till your naked and broken

Till you’ve traded it all

For her pixels and your skin

She really does nothing

But sit there and wait

Wait for you to fall

In her arms

To this fate

Of fatal addiction

That will rob all your pride

And all your respect

Your position

As a man

And become a weak shell of a life

That could have been worth someone’s devotion

And I’ve

Seen it over and over and over again

Wake up, sleepy nation

To the pit you are in

Because she will devour

Your flesh and your soul

Run from her whispers

Break loose from her hold

Give your breath and your blood to escape her embrace

Stand up

Stand apart from the crowds and their chase

Their pursuit of her lies

Know the truth

And be wise

You can live your life chasing her

Or live your life

Alive

Not just breathing and present

But living life free

From the bitter entanglement

And destruction of

She

Beautiful Lies

Just read an article a friend posted. These sentences, taken from the article, pretty much sum it up.


"When a 10-year-old...posted provocatively for French Vogue, the images sparked an international debate over the sexualization of children."


"A French senator issued a report aimed at stopping the “hyper-sexualization” of young children."

The article ended with this question: "Should it be the job of the government to stop the sexualization of girls?"

I'm not linking the article here because I don't want to further circulate this girl's picture, which is not particularly offensive [imo], but I believe that the implications the photo makes about her [and other young girls] is. Here are my thoughts: Cause - ya know, sometimes I just can't stay quiet.

Is it the government's job? No. It is the job of mothers and fathers to protect and love and nurture our children. It is our job to educate them. It is our job to shelter their innocent hearts - and prepare them, as they mature, for life as an adult. The responsibility falls on our shoulders, but so many of us have failed our children, leaving them vulnerable prey to wandering eyes, predatory greed and the dangerous lies our culture force-feeds them about beauty, value, image and self-worth.

Is she beautiful? Absolutely, and her beauty should not be peddled to selfish voyeurs - to wet their appetite for exploitation.

Shame on us for not only tolerating this treatment of children, but for endorsing it. It continues because it is profitable. Who makes it profitable? Society - Grown men and women who purchase the magazines and the products they advertise and who watch the pageant shows etc. We know better - or should.

I hope those who have the power to act legislatively, do so, but ultimately, it is our responsibility as parents and quite frankly, as morally responsible humans. Shame on us [adult society] for neglecting [and abusing] what is arguably our most significant position - the ones who are bringing up the future of this world.

All this comes after having taken my children to the grocery store today, where a magazine with an image of a fully nude woman [her legs and arms crossed] was displayed facing the main isle [not just the checkout line].

I think the naked human body is beautiful. But when it is cheaply displayed for 5.99 on the lower rack for my six year old son to view, and the only answer I get from the store management is "Well, did you use our marked "family-friendly" checkout?" - Hmmm...how do I put it? Have you ever known someone who is just gorgeous, then you really get to know the person and slowly they become less and less attractive? That is how I feel about it.

[By the way - Good to know that ONE of their 20 check out lines is "family-friendly", which, actually, I assumed meant it was okay if my children were crying while we stood in line there, I didn't realize it meant "porn-free" - although, like I said, the mag wasn't displayed in the line, it was facing the main isle for everyone to view.]

Soap box aside, "she" is lovely. She is also fake [photoshop-ed], but I'm sure lovely even without the editing. But you know what, that magazine cover - boldly displayed - caught my husband's eye [who pointed it out to me...and who, I should add, treats me very honorably], as it was intended to. Now, I'm a pretty girl [or so I'm told] but, come on, who can compete with digital perfection? When these images repeatedly demand our attention they set a false, unrealistic expectation or unattainable goal, leaving us with a feeling of dissatisfaction and/or failure. How can a woman's heart help but wonder if she could ever possibly satisfy his eyes and excite his passion when "she" is plastered everywhere we turn and her standard is no match for any natural creature?

She is on billboards, in movies, on television, on covers and centerfolds and window advertisements. She is in the music we listen to, she is in the conversations around us. She is hidden in our inboxes, text messages, and search engines. She stalks us until we finally accept her - she slips into our eyes and hides within our minds where she can begin to reshape our perspectives of ourselves and of others, for her own benefit. There, she is able to trample a path, through repetition, to lead us somewhere deep and dark where only the light she shines can comfort us, but it's a dim glow - we become unable to see what is around us, our eyes are on ourselves and her lies. Like bugs to a light - we are memorized, focused and ignorant...only to be destroyed. We are unhappy with ourselves. We no longer find pleasure in our spouse. Even our children can become objects to us, we sell their images for gain, and take advantage of their innocence. She is persistent and she has an agenda: money.

When every time I take my children to the store, they see images like this, 1. it prematurely exposes them to adult sexuality and 2. it begins to create in their minds a false ideal. It seduces us to believe that "she" [the sexual image on that piece of glossy paper] is worth chasing after - and how we become beautiful or conquer beauty. She is a lie, and lovely as she may be, the more I get to know her and the consequences of believing her and pursuing her...the uglier she is.

Men, she doesn't satisfy. She teases and tempts and draws your eyes away from what is real. Her satisfaction is cheap, like a Mc-whatever-your-favorite-grease-burger-supersized-meal-is...and it might fill your gut, but if that's your diet, it will eventually devastate you internally and lead you down a road to a plethora of ugly and degenerative diseases. You're depriving your self of nutrition and substance - and feeding yourself hidden toxins. She might taste good now...but she will not leave you un-scarred.

Not only that, but she is easy, she doesn't argue or need attention. You pick her up when it is convenient for you and put her down when you're done using her. She's cheap. She's attractive. Think about this though: if you stop exercising, your muscles grow weak. Stop working at relationships, and you stop maturing - can I be so bold as to call it cowardly? "She" might be an Internet site, a magazine, a woman but you treat "her" as an object. Men - you were not intended to love an object. It is a weak substitute. I've met a few men. I've met many grown boys. Tell me she has not befriended them - I'm all but certain she has.

Women - stop tolerating this. It is not okay. It is not okay for our girls to grow into their adulthood feeling unlovely and inadequate. It is not okay for our young men to enter into their adolencence with their minds muddled by distracting and destructive images. They become addicted and enslaved before they even have a chance to fight it.

Stop buying the magazines that shove lies about sexuality and beauty down our throats. Stop it. Even commercials and advertisements that applaud themselves for displaying a more realistic view of a woman's nude body cannot boast asserting the viewer's beauty. They are selling a product...usually intended to make you "prettier". The message is still that you are not good enough. It is a lie.

Women, love your man. Talk about these issues. Love him. Don't be naive. Everyday men - yes, even the men we love & respect - face this issue. Guaranteed.

Parents - Love your sons. Talk about these issues. Prepare him. Confront him - insist that he become a man and not continue his adulthood as a boy. Teach him to love and honor and respect the women in his life. Demand it. Demand that he treat women with kindness and gentleness - in both his action, and words - and encourage him to value women in his thoughts.

Love your girls. Protect them. Nurture them. We teach them by our actions as well as our words how to value themselves and how to expect to be treated by others. Be intentional. Let her know that she is beautiful. But also that her beauty is not written on her skin alone. It is within her heart. It is seen in her actions and in her words - in the way she views and treat others. Speak up. Address the images and advertisements around you. Talk about these issues - don't leave her to try to navigate through the cultural influences [driven by profit] on her own in the years she is learning who she is as an individual - be her mom - be her dad - love her.

Can you tell I'm passionate about this? I think it is kind of a big deal; I believe the issues surrounding these things affect far more of our lives than we acknowledge or readily recognize. Don't ignore it.

Be Still, My Busy Heart

Our minds are overflowing with information, which is thrown at us from all directions. Billboards and business signs reach out for our attention as we drive down the street. Advertisements scream at us as we check our e-mail, read our Facebook messages, catch up on the evening news or browse through the daily paper. Let's not even mention the barrage of messages we receive while shopping, whether we are at a grocery store, department store, a mall, online...doesn't matter - obviously we "need more", "deserve more", or "should be doing more"...blah...blah...blah. [Guess I did "mention" it after all.] If you watch television, add to the list a whole new set of voices that insist on our attention.

Even viewing movies, we are introduced to trailers for other movies. It is constant mental noise and distraction.

Well-intentioned advertisement can also be overwhelming. Take church announcements, for example, humanitarian pleas, or calls from charity organizations. "Volunteers are needed in the nursery." "Join the Women's Ministry group every Thursday to grow closer to the Lord." "Help with the Fundraiser." "Go on a mission trip and see your life changed!" "Donate to the crisis." "Help us help them." None of it is bad, just...noisy. There is an overwhelming abundance of information to be processed every day.

Add to that the chaotic chatter of children [young or old]. Even while playing happily [maybe especially while playing happily], three happy voices at once coming from all different directions quickly melt together into noise. Happy noise. Noise I generally love...but noise, nonetheless.

Unhappy noise is far less pleasant. Whining, bickering, arguments, yelling, fighting, crying...these resonate in the deepest part of a mother's heart, conjuring up a soup of emotions from agonizing empathy to bitter irritation. It is loud, both literally and figuratively, within our hearts and minds.

Add to the continuous flow of noise and information the unending "doing". From the moment I wake to the second I pass out from exhaustion, I am busy. My hands are busy - and even when they have a moment to rest, my heart and mind are burdened with responsibilities, schedules, goals, lists, deadlines, demands, desires...etc. I am exhausted.

There are the usual daily tasks, such as laundry, meal preparations, dishes to be washed, floors to be cleaned, children to be bathed, beds to be made, toys to be put away, homework to be completed, etc. Then, of course, the occasional and the unexpected responsibilities; commitments to be fulfilled, family or friends that need help, home repairs, auto repairs, bills to be paid, groceries to purchase, clothing to be replaced, celebrations and holidays to be planned. And to the list of "doing", add the selective - the things we want to do that take time and attention, that are unnecessary, but we either enjoy doing them or feel compelled to do them [or both]. Just writing it all down exhausts me.

Here's the point of my pointing out the obvious: We are inundated with busyness.

We are conditioned to believe we must constantly be doing, going, getting, growing, so much so that we often neglect the simplicity of being, of living. We will never accomplish all there is to do. It is a mountain that starts out bigger than our abilities and continues to increase in size and height. There is no summit point we can reach, where we can finally sit down and look out across the horizon to see how far we have come and glory in our great accomplishments. It is illusive and unattainable. There is always "doing" to be done.

As I was overwhelmed by the demands that were before me a few days ago, I was reminded of the Psalm. "Be still and know that I am God." [Psalm 46:10]

I am His creation, designed and purposed to be clay in His hand...molded and shaped and used for His plans and His glory. Why do we chase after these "things" and "goals" and "objectives" with such wild voracity. We look ahead and plow forward and forget to recognize the person standing beside us in the grocery line. We are so focused on checking off every single box by the end of the day that when it comes time to tuck our children into bed, we realize that is the first time we've really stopped to look at them all day. We pour all of our energy and effort into our careers, and we come home exhausted, with little or nothing of ourselves left to share with our spouse. We are like race horses, our eyes set straight by blinders, while we may run fast and efficiently, like handsomely carved machines...and the crowds may cheer and there may be a blue ribbon or silver cup with our name on it at the end of the race, the fact remains, we are running in circles. Silver cups tarnish and blue ribbons deteriorate.

If I can walk faithfully each day, doing the things He has made me to do - whether they are spectacular and others notice, or they are simple and mundane and thankless jobs - then that day has been successful.

It will be busy. Life is busy. It will be noisy and messy and hard. But in my heart, I must learn to be still and know that He is God. I must learn to rest, to quiet my mind, to resist the onslaught of messages that pull me in every direction from every limb until I am stretched to my absolute limit. The cultural norm of busy till you bust will get us to a finish line, and maybe even a ribbon, but in the meantime, we pass swiftly by the beautiful landscape surrounding our track and trample over weaker competitors, who may have been our dearest companions, if we would only pay attention to something other than the voices and the whips that press heavy and relentlessly on our backs.

As you face your busyness today, take a moment to be still. And as you accomplish the things that must get done, quiet your heart and know that He is God. "Whatever you do, do it all for the glory of God." [1 Corinthians 10:31]

"Knock, Knock." "Who's There?" [conviction - that's who!]

As I pulled out my cosmetic bag from the cabinet in my bathroom, I heard a tiny knocking at the door [which I had very intentionally shut only moments before].

"Yes...who is it?" I questioned, slightly irritated.

I knew it was a long shot, but I had desperately wanted to isolate myself for a few minutes and get ready for the day ahead without noise, without interruption, without being pawed at and climbed upon, without anyone in my arms [or hanging on my pants, determined not to let go until they had been lifted up to my hip]. I achieved my goal for about .9 seconds.

"It's me." The tiny voice on the other side of the door caught me off guard. This was my youngest. A sweet and vocal 18-month-old girl. I had expected an older voice from one of my other children to respond.

"Me who?" I asked, trying to buy myself another fraction of a second.

"Me."

"How are you, me?"

"Good."

"What do you need?"

"Ummm..." [Insert the most adorable little baby girl babble - that I am absolutely certain had a very specific meaning, but was unable to adequately decipher - here.] "....my Mom."

"You want to come in???"

"Mm-Hmm." She said it very quickly and matter-of-factly. Yes. I had understood her precious babble correctly. I'm out here, you're in there...I want to be in there too.

I couldn't help but to smile, and meet her at the door. I opened it and there she was, beaming up at me. I am her Mama. The poor darling doesn't even know any better than to adore me. If she had known that I had shut the door in an attempt to hide from her and her siblings, she had already forgiven me, and was delighted to sit and watch me for a few moments.

Of course, that didn't last long and she wanted to play with my make-up and brush her hair and empty any drawer she could reach.

But how could I resist her sweet knock at the door, or her enthusiastic, untranslatable plea to be included in the excitement in the bathroom that morning? I simply could not.

__________________________________________

Yesterday I held both the girls in my arms late in the evening, well past bedtime.

Those short hours after the kids fall asleep are my sanctuary. Once the constant demand for attention comes to a halt, I can begin to filter through my thoughts a little. I am able to accomplish the tasks that have been set aside all day. Who knew spending an hour washing dishes could be something to look forward to, huh? *sigh*

My little ones were not cooperating with my plan, however. Although one child had successfully fallen asleep, the other two were squirming on my lap. Sleepy, yet determined to be too hot, too cold, not comfy, a little scared...or the latest complaint, and one of my personal favorites..."kind of ticklish" and entirely unable to rest, I finally gave up and pulled them on my lap.

We all sat together, rocking and chatting and snuggling. Then came the wiggling and the stretching. My youngest was pulling at my shirt and petting my face, my older daughter squirmed and pushed her legs out, then back in...then out. She was rubbing my hand with her tiny fingers - over and over and over. I closed my eyes and assured myself that they would fall asleep any moment. "Take a breath. Let them snuggle." my inner mother coached. I love my girls, but there is only so much touching one can endure. It was now eleven. Way, way past acceptable bedtime delay tactic hours.

Finally, I could take it no longer. I turned to my older daughter. "You have to stop touching me." I said. She rubbed my cheek affectionately. I snapped. "Stop it! Stop it! You cannot touch me anymore!!" She stared blankly at me, my guess is that she was entirely unsure what to think of my reaction.

"Sweetheart, I love you. I love to snuggle with you, but I just need a little space."

I kissed her and she hopped off to bed. I tucked her in AGAIN [note the subtle tension] and eeked out the courage to hug and kiss her once more before I returned to hopefully successfully lull my baby to sleep.

As I sat there begrudgingly holding my little girl, I felt awful. "I am such a horrible mother," I thought. [You mothers understand the sort of criticisms we internally throw around.] As I wrestled through the self-inflicted blows, I came to the conclusion that in the end, I would rather be loved to the point of claustrophobia than to be untouched and lonely. I began to pray for others who might be desperately needing to be near someone else, and slowly...as I stopped being so consumed with how I felt or what I wanted, I began to pull my nearly sleeping baby closer. I was no longer holding her because I had to, I held her because she has been given to me to love.

Some days, I vaguely remember what it was like to wake up and have no concerns beside preparing myself for the day ahead of me. I miss it. I yearn to shower uninterrupted. I would love to sit down at the table with a cup of tea and slice of toast and just think - just be quiet for a little while. My reality is constant voices, constant needs, continuous questions, conflicts, correction and, of course, cuteness too.

Some days, I want to be alone. I think I need to get away and have some space. As much as I adore those tiny fingers, I dread the thought of them touching me one more time.

These are the memories I need to remind myself of. I must not get caught up in life and in my self and forget what wonderful treasures I have growing older every minute that I hold them in my arms. I cannot neglect the very important work of loving them. I must not forget to invite them in when they knock on the door, or to pull them onto my lap when they cannot sleep because they are "too ticklish". Perhaps I will just need to tickle them before bed and leave the bathroom door open.

Even though I love them more than I could ever put into words, I often fail.

I have so much more to learn about loving.
I am so thankful I get to learn with them.
I am thankful for little knocks on the door that interrupt me.
I am thankful for loving arms that squeeze me until I can't stand it anymore.
What lovely gifts I have been given.

Gratitude

I love to listen to the laughter of my children mingled with light conversation between my husband and our parents. In our family, most gatherings are incomplete without a spontaneous outburst of song...tonight was no exception.

As I stood in the next room washing dishes from our feast of a dinner, the feeling of gratitude warmed my soul.

I am so thankful for these moments.

It is a joy to experience life together with these people. Tonight we shared dinner with our children and both sets of parents; nine of us sat together around our table in the living room. Together we held hands and thanked the Lord for His provision...my oldest daughter prayed as we all agreed with her.

It was lavish and simplistic all at the same time.

We popped popcorn and played dress-up and several rounds of Apples to Apples. We sipped coffee and shared conversations. We laughed. Tonight, we lived. We interacted with the people we have been given to love - and it was beautiful. I can think of no other place here on earth that I would rather be tonight than right where I am. I do not take these moments for granted.

I am thankful for each day I get to hold these sweet darlings in my arms; for each day they will still climb up on my lap and snuggle into my neck and want to be close. I am thankful for the love, support, example and relationship our parents share with us. I am thankful for my husband, my love...my friend.

I am thankful for the blessing of being able to provide for the needs of our family. I am thankful for a warm home to host such gatherings.

What made tonight so lovely was not the entertainment or good food - although we had plenty of both. What made tonight lovely was them; their presence. What a beautiful gift I have been given.

180

Graphic. Powerful. Thought-provoking...and a little uncomfortable.
Worth 30 minutes of your day to consider what he has to say...