A familiar feeling hit me today. I am overwhelmed, overwhelmed by the various resposibilities that are weighing on me, overwhelmed by my inability to juggle all that seems to be required of me. There are balls falling left and right and it bothers me. There are huge balls that are threatening to crush me if they fall, and so I dash here and there in an attempt to keep the balls from dropping. It reminds me of the variety shows I watched as a kid and the plate spinners they would feature. Does anyone remember those? The guys that would set a plate on a thin pole and spin it, move to the next and do the same, continuing down the poles and then running back to spin the others again, and eventually grabbing them off safely or every once in awhile a plate would crash and he'd toss another up on the pole and spin it. Yup, I feel like that.
I started working part time at our garage again in the office. I started homeschooling Tim for eighth grade while looking for a better option for both him and me. I started my fourth year toward my degree and I am totally confused with what I'm doing there. I have been desperately trying to spend some time with my brand new grandson, Saor. Haven't worked on my writing in weeks now. Been fussing with phones and computers that didn't work. School shopping, end of summer events, school meetings, and all the stuff that goes with this portion of life. I feel burnt out without ever getting started.
I can't let anything go and I don't think I am doing anything beyond what I am called to do. So what can be the answer then? "Consider it pure joy, my brothers, whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith develops perserverance. Perserverance must finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything. If any of you lacks wisdom, he should ask God who gives generously to all without finding fault, and it will be given to him." (NIV)
Ok, what I am trying to say is this, I don't feel joyful, but when I think about any testing, any pressure, any persecution (of which I face very little) I can be sure by the Word of God that it will test my faith to develop perserverance. And I want to be perservering because that creates maturity in my faith, and completeness and lacking for nothing. Those are things I have asked the Lord to create in me, to build into my faith. I pray at least daily for wisdom and then I want to complain about the pressure, the weight, the pace, the responsibilities; when in truth I should be praising God for answered prayer!
I don't know how this all will all work out. I don't know for certain that the choices for schooling Tim will work out the way I hope or that I will do a wonderful job on my first assignment for seminary or that I can do the office work and manage to keep up with the teenagers schedules. What I do know though is simple, God's word is true and he is using this to bring my faith into a deeper more complete place, lacking nothing and being granted wisdom for what I need.
So today, I am praising him for the pressure!
Monday, August 30, 2010
Monday, August 16, 2010
Proverbs 17:6
"Do you want to stay for the whole service?" I looked at my husband like he'd lost his mind. Of course I wanted to stay for the whole service. We were only 20 minutes or so into the morning and it was the quiet, reverent, prayer time where we are offered the opportunity to come forward and receive prayer for our needs. Rich had volunteered in the parking lot that morning and was just arriving to our seats. He leaned into my shoulder as he asked, handing his cell phone toward my eyes. I glanced at the phone and saw a text message. I read the message and my heart leaped with the joy and anticipation for the what those words held. Nothing else could have made me react so in the middle of a church service.
"Baby brother meadows born. you can come." My daughter Kristi had delivered her second child and her husband, Dan was inviting us to come see our newest grandson.
I squealed in delight like a child myself, startling some of the worshipers around us. Gathering my things and moving my son out of the row, I stopped to explain to a couple near us and felt my throat tighten with the familiar emotion of overwhelming joy. My baby had her baby; they were both safe.
Saor (Say-er) Meadows entered the world from the safety of his mother's womb at 9:16 am, August 15, 2010 weighing in at 7 lbs. and 19 inches, looking very much like his older brother at birth.
Cadan, Kristi's older child had been present in the bedroom for the birth and watched with apparent ease, reading and singing to the baby. Big brother sang "Twinkle Twinkle Little Star" to "Baby Brother" as the tiny new person rested against his mother's side.
When we arrived at the house we sat for a few minutes down stairs waiting. Rich and Tim headed to Duncan Donuts to buy some celebration for when the rest arrived. Even though this is grandbaby number six we knew everyone who could get here would, both our family and Dan's. Our daughter, Melanie was already texting every few minutes to see when she could come.
While Dad and brother headed to the store, I went up with Kristi. The little tiny person lay in the crook of her arm and she lay sideways on the bed covered in a blanket. I looked at her and felt the surge of love and gratitude for the privilege of being her mom. There was my baby girl, my first child, holding her child. She didn't even look tired. Her hair framed her face and her eyes sparkled with pride. I didn't even realize the baby was still attached and the placenta had not delivered yet. Here she was looking ready for the Oscars, well almost. Good work, my sweet girl. I am ever so proud of you. Thanks for this beautiful grandson.
Baby Meadows the second, Grandchild number six, Grandson five, eighteenth dinner table chair for Thanksgiving, came into the world on Sunday morning, expelling a shout for joy from Grammy and a song of joy from his big brother. Saor, you are engraved on our hearts and a beautiful leaf on the tip of our branch. Welcome sweet boy, welcome. Grammy is already singing your song. Thanks be to the gracious and good God, Lord Jesus Creator for the abundance of life and beauty He has brought into my life and the family He has surrounded me with.
"Baby brother meadows born. you can come." My daughter Kristi had delivered her second child and her husband, Dan was inviting us to come see our newest grandson.
I squealed in delight like a child myself, startling some of the worshipers around us. Gathering my things and moving my son out of the row, I stopped to explain to a couple near us and felt my throat tighten with the familiar emotion of overwhelming joy. My baby had her baby; they were both safe.
Saor (Say-er) Meadows entered the world from the safety of his mother's womb at 9:16 am, August 15, 2010 weighing in at 7 lbs. and 19 inches, looking very much like his older brother at birth.
Cadan, Kristi's older child had been present in the bedroom for the birth and watched with apparent ease, reading and singing to the baby. Big brother sang "Twinkle Twinkle Little Star" to "Baby Brother" as the tiny new person rested against his mother's side.
When we arrived at the house we sat for a few minutes down stairs waiting. Rich and Tim headed to Duncan Donuts to buy some celebration for when the rest arrived. Even though this is grandbaby number six we knew everyone who could get here would, both our family and Dan's. Our daughter, Melanie was already texting every few minutes to see when she could come.
While Dad and brother headed to the store, I went up with Kristi. The little tiny person lay in the crook of her arm and she lay sideways on the bed covered in a blanket. I looked at her and felt the surge of love and gratitude for the privilege of being her mom. There was my baby girl, my first child, holding her child. She didn't even look tired. Her hair framed her face and her eyes sparkled with pride. I didn't even realize the baby was still attached and the placenta had not delivered yet. Here she was looking ready for the Oscars, well almost. Good work, my sweet girl. I am ever so proud of you. Thanks for this beautiful grandson.
Baby Meadows the second, Grandchild number six, Grandson five, eighteenth dinner table chair for Thanksgiving, came into the world on Sunday morning, expelling a shout for joy from Grammy and a song of joy from his big brother. Saor, you are engraved on our hearts and a beautiful leaf on the tip of our branch. Welcome sweet boy, welcome. Grammy is already singing your song. Thanks be to the gracious and good God, Lord Jesus Creator for the abundance of life and beauty He has brought into my life and the family He has surrounded me with.
Monday, August 9, 2010
I am working on a story about the woman at the well from John 4. I love to sink into the stories of scripture and dig for the treasures and this story in a few short verses is full of them.
One of the things that catches my eye is that she tells the town, "He told me everything about my life!" Wait, look back at the conversation. No he didn't. What's she talking about? But the point is, he told her what she considered to be important points that touched on tender spots; he spoke in details that a stranger should not know. So in essence he had told her about "everything". It convinced her that he was special, sent by God, a prophet. Not quite the fullness of the truth.
Then he proclaims, right out in the open, straight from his mouth, "I am he." She had just talked about "Taheb", "Messiah", "Christ". Now he tells her plainly, "yup, that's me!" Rarely does Christ announce his birthright so clearly and here he is speaking to a Samaritan, a woman, a woman of low morals, and she's who he chooses to reveal himself to? Wow, now I would have picked someone much loftier, worthy, respectable, or reverent. But then, maybe that's at least part of the point. She needed him. She was one of the sick who needed a physician. She was broken and needed fixing. She wasn't put together and on the A list. She wasn't on any list anyone would want to be on. She knew who she was and she knew she was hopeless. Or did she?
When she begins talking religion, because after all what do you talk to a prophet about other than religious stuff (at least those outside the walls of the Kingdom might think so), she shows some signs of hope if not faith. "When Messiah comes he will reveal all things." How did she know that? This miscreant with the improbable moment in history is showing signs of hope, of faith? She seems to be. And Jesus rewards her with the revelation.
Can you imagine the thunder in her heart as his words penetrate her thoughts and understanding? Can you see her face begin to glow? Can you feel the revelation that not only is this Messiah, but he has just revealed the worst about you and not rejected you, but gave acceptance and even respect in conversing and revealing as much as he had? Can you understand the freedom she must have felt as she left that water jar and ran the trail back into town to tell about him to those who have rejected her? I can. I remember that first moment of revelation when the thunder of his words beat within my heart and so many times after as the revelation came and comes afresh and for me. I can see the glow on the friends and loved one as they "get it" when the Holy Spirit reveals something of Messiah to them. I have felt that acceptance and even respect when the rest of the world seemed to have no use for me, but He did. I have felt that freedom that only my Jesus can bring into the moment of weariness and weight. Have you?
One of the things that catches my eye is that she tells the town, "He told me everything about my life!" Wait, look back at the conversation. No he didn't. What's she talking about? But the point is, he told her what she considered to be important points that touched on tender spots; he spoke in details that a stranger should not know. So in essence he had told her about "everything". It convinced her that he was special, sent by God, a prophet. Not quite the fullness of the truth.
Then he proclaims, right out in the open, straight from his mouth, "I am he." She had just talked about "Taheb", "Messiah", "Christ". Now he tells her plainly, "yup, that's me!" Rarely does Christ announce his birthright so clearly and here he is speaking to a Samaritan, a woman, a woman of low morals, and she's who he chooses to reveal himself to? Wow, now I would have picked someone much loftier, worthy, respectable, or reverent. But then, maybe that's at least part of the point. She needed him. She was one of the sick who needed a physician. She was broken and needed fixing. She wasn't put together and on the A list. She wasn't on any list anyone would want to be on. She knew who she was and she knew she was hopeless. Or did she?
When she begins talking religion, because after all what do you talk to a prophet about other than religious stuff (at least those outside the walls of the Kingdom might think so), she shows some signs of hope if not faith. "When Messiah comes he will reveal all things." How did she know that? This miscreant with the improbable moment in history is showing signs of hope, of faith? She seems to be. And Jesus rewards her with the revelation.
Can you imagine the thunder in her heart as his words penetrate her thoughts and understanding? Can you see her face begin to glow? Can you feel the revelation that not only is this Messiah, but he has just revealed the worst about you and not rejected you, but gave acceptance and even respect in conversing and revealing as much as he had? Can you understand the freedom she must have felt as she left that water jar and ran the trail back into town to tell about him to those who have rejected her? I can. I remember that first moment of revelation when the thunder of his words beat within my heart and so many times after as the revelation came and comes afresh and for me. I can see the glow on the friends and loved one as they "get it" when the Holy Spirit reveals something of Messiah to them. I have felt that acceptance and even respect when the rest of the world seemed to have no use for me, but He did. I have felt that freedom that only my Jesus can bring into the moment of weariness and weight. Have you?
Monday, August 2, 2010
Sunday, July 25 we returned from a family dinner out in the midst of tornado warnings and a thunderstorm. As we exited the car a huge flash of lightening filled the passengers side and a clap that announced something close had been hit. It was pouring rain and in the middle of it none of us heard or saw the other family members reaction to it. We hurried inside and dried off.
Later that evening we found the kitchen phone wasn't working and neither was the cable for the tv or internet. We thought the lightening had knocked out local services and called to report it (from our cell phones of course). Sure enough we were informed that many had lost power, cable, and phone service in the area. At least we had electric.
After two days of no tv, no internet, and no land line we were all reverting to 1918 apparel and wonderin' about those strange looking cars in the front of the house. Actually we started wondering if maybe it was more than just a local outage. So Rich checked the kitchen phone line. The bedroom line seemed to be restored but the kitchen was still down. Swap phones out and check, the line did not work. Plug the kitchen phone in the bedroom, the phone did not work there. So neither the line nor the phone were working. So he got busy checking the rest of the equipment. In the end we lost the router (and are still having trouble getting the new one to work properly). The tv Rich got to work but the wii is fried. The lightening had also bounced across to a second tree and knocked a few branches off, blew the breaker to the pond and waterfall, and made a mess of the yard.
Cutting the grass on Tuesday of that week Tim realized there was a huge amount of wood around the tree line and started looking at the trees. Sure enough, lightening had hit one of the trees on a limb and traveled through the limb and down the bark exploding out the bottom of the tree and shooting across the yard to our cable box (and phone line) and popped it good.
Now you know why there was no blog from me last Monday. I had no internet all week (and still not on my laptop). But I started thinking about how that one single bolt of lightening had affected our lives, all of it pretty minor compared to what lightening is capable of, and yet still it affected every person who lives here for days. How often in the spirit something comes into our lives with the potential to destroy and even though we may be sitting in the shelter of His wing, there are still effects from the strike. I don't know about you, but I find it less of a decision to stand for the Lord when it is a major moment and all eyes are on me. Then there is no choice. But when the "foxes are among the grape vines" and causing several minor issues, that's when I'm caught off guard and get frustrated, angry, and fail to walk in the way He walks before me. Just like the frustration of not having internet on my laptop and having to wait my turn for the computer, or knowing that the brand new game that never got played but was opened and nonreturnable is sitting on the shelf never to be played on our wii, and while I run like a crazy lady in a 5K run across the house to reach the bedroom before the phone goes to message, since we have no kitchen or family room line now, in the same manner I can see those small things in the spirit that zap my peace and my oh-so-good intentions.
I also find that the loud noise of the issues also can separate me from what others are going through. Like the four of us doing whatever was natural for each of us, so in the spirit we may cringe and pull away. But what a mistake that is when we retreat from others in our moment of need. We may be embarrassed or frightened in some way to share, but the answer lies in connection to the body. Just like the lightening zapping the source of power, if we allow those issues to separate us from the body of Christ, we also lose power. We are not intended to do this Christian thing alone. It is always a group effort in some measure.
I am learning how important it is to stand firm against the fiery darts of the enemy. And how do we do that? According to Ephesians 6:17-18 we take the sword of the Spirit and "pray in the Spirit on all occasions with all kinds of prayers and requests . . .and we keep on praying for all the saints."
The Word of God and the power of a praying saint are undefeatable for we are powered, protected, and pushed forward by His Spirit. Even when we fall it is used for our good and His glory. How can we possibly go wrong?
Later that evening we found the kitchen phone wasn't working and neither was the cable for the tv or internet. We thought the lightening had knocked out local services and called to report it (from our cell phones of course). Sure enough we were informed that many had lost power, cable, and phone service in the area. At least we had electric.
After two days of no tv, no internet, and no land line we were all reverting to 1918 apparel and wonderin' about those strange looking cars in the front of the house. Actually we started wondering if maybe it was more than just a local outage. So Rich checked the kitchen phone line. The bedroom line seemed to be restored but the kitchen was still down. Swap phones out and check, the line did not work. Plug the kitchen phone in the bedroom, the phone did not work there. So neither the line nor the phone were working. So he got busy checking the rest of the equipment. In the end we lost the router (and are still having trouble getting the new one to work properly). The tv Rich got to work but the wii is fried. The lightening had also bounced across to a second tree and knocked a few branches off, blew the breaker to the pond and waterfall, and made a mess of the yard.
Cutting the grass on Tuesday of that week Tim realized there was a huge amount of wood around the tree line and started looking at the trees. Sure enough, lightening had hit one of the trees on a limb and traveled through the limb and down the bark exploding out the bottom of the tree and shooting across the yard to our cable box (and phone line) and popped it good.
Now you know why there was no blog from me last Monday. I had no internet all week (and still not on my laptop). But I started thinking about how that one single bolt of lightening had affected our lives, all of it pretty minor compared to what lightening is capable of, and yet still it affected every person who lives here for days. How often in the spirit something comes into our lives with the potential to destroy and even though we may be sitting in the shelter of His wing, there are still effects from the strike. I don't know about you, but I find it less of a decision to stand for the Lord when it is a major moment and all eyes are on me. Then there is no choice. But when the "foxes are among the grape vines" and causing several minor issues, that's when I'm caught off guard and get frustrated, angry, and fail to walk in the way He walks before me. Just like the frustration of not having internet on my laptop and having to wait my turn for the computer, or knowing that the brand new game that never got played but was opened and nonreturnable is sitting on the shelf never to be played on our wii, and while I run like a crazy lady in a 5K run across the house to reach the bedroom before the phone goes to message, since we have no kitchen or family room line now, in the same manner I can see those small things in the spirit that zap my peace and my oh-so-good intentions.
I also find that the loud noise of the issues also can separate me from what others are going through. Like the four of us doing whatever was natural for each of us, so in the spirit we may cringe and pull away. But what a mistake that is when we retreat from others in our moment of need. We may be embarrassed or frightened in some way to share, but the answer lies in connection to the body. Just like the lightening zapping the source of power, if we allow those issues to separate us from the body of Christ, we also lose power. We are not intended to do this Christian thing alone. It is always a group effort in some measure.
I am learning how important it is to stand firm against the fiery darts of the enemy. And how do we do that? According to Ephesians 6:17-18 we take the sword of the Spirit and "pray in the Spirit on all occasions with all kinds of prayers and requests . . .and we keep on praying for all the saints."
The Word of God and the power of a praying saint are undefeatable for we are powered, protected, and pushed forward by His Spirit. Even when we fall it is used for our good and His glory. How can we possibly go wrong?
Monday, July 19, 2010
Small things
I noticed something yesterday with fresh eyes. It was one of those revelations that is more of an "oh, yeah!" rather than an "ah-ha!" I need to be reminded once in awhile of things I already know to be true. Sometimes in the day to day flow of life, things, important things get lost in the shuffle of activity. Yesterday brought one of those moments, and like breathing deeply the rush of air filling your lungs, I awoke an understanding that had been just sitting there waiting for notice.
The "oh, yeah!" was recognizing the hand of God in the small things of my life. When my oldest three daughters got married, each wedding was an "ah-ha!" moment as I saw the Lord doing something amazing. When each one of my grandchildren were born there was that moment when awe and the spirituality of the moment was thick with His presence. I love the fact that the Lord doesn't dwell in those huge moments of life only though. I love that He has chosen to live in relationship with each of us, individually in the mundane, the everyday as well as the huge, spectacular moments.
I was packing my purse getting ready to leave for church yesterday morning. There nearby was a pile of business cards. Now I just had these things made up to take with me to a conference I am attending in August and don't usually carry them around everyday. When I saw them I felt a "nudge" to take some with me and so I grabbed a few and popped them into the pocket of the purse. I attended church with my parents in Harrington yesterday, having the opportunity to sing. After the service the guest pastor came over to comment on my song and asked if I would come to their church and sing. I handed him the card I had been "nudged" to bring.
I have been praying for more opportunities to sing. I don't call people and ask for opportunity or time in their service and I have no desire for a "singing ministry". I just miss singing, so I asked the Lord to open up a couple of doors. I wanted the chance to sing for others and in the process hoped to bring God glory and bless Him. Here in this small thing, this little desire of my heart and the small prayer request that would not have been a big disappointed if He said "No you've already had that day. It's over.", in that small thing, the "nudge", the card packed, the invitation, the giving of the card, I was reminded that He is involved in my small things, the little desires of my heart. He is constantly orchestrating my path to bring into the fulfillment of His plan. It's part of the relationship.
Now you might be thinking, "big deal, she carried a card! Isn't that what cards are for? How's that God's hand?" All I can say is those small moments of ordinary things bring His presence in my everyday life into focus and remind me that He is present, yes; but more He is looking for relationship with me, daily, on-going, involved in my days relationship. And by the way, He's looking for the daily, on-going, involved in your days relationship with you, too.
The "oh, yeah!" was recognizing the hand of God in the small things of my life. When my oldest three daughters got married, each wedding was an "ah-ha!" moment as I saw the Lord doing something amazing. When each one of my grandchildren were born there was that moment when awe and the spirituality of the moment was thick with His presence. I love the fact that the Lord doesn't dwell in those huge moments of life only though. I love that He has chosen to live in relationship with each of us, individually in the mundane, the everyday as well as the huge, spectacular moments.
I was packing my purse getting ready to leave for church yesterday morning. There nearby was a pile of business cards. Now I just had these things made up to take with me to a conference I am attending in August and don't usually carry them around everyday. When I saw them I felt a "nudge" to take some with me and so I grabbed a few and popped them into the pocket of the purse. I attended church with my parents in Harrington yesterday, having the opportunity to sing. After the service the guest pastor came over to comment on my song and asked if I would come to their church and sing. I handed him the card I had been "nudged" to bring.
I have been praying for more opportunities to sing. I don't call people and ask for opportunity or time in their service and I have no desire for a "singing ministry". I just miss singing, so I asked the Lord to open up a couple of doors. I wanted the chance to sing for others and in the process hoped to bring God glory and bless Him. Here in this small thing, this little desire of my heart and the small prayer request that would not have been a big disappointed if He said "No you've already had that day. It's over.", in that small thing, the "nudge", the card packed, the invitation, the giving of the card, I was reminded that He is involved in my small things, the little desires of my heart. He is constantly orchestrating my path to bring into the fulfillment of His plan. It's part of the relationship.
Now you might be thinking, "big deal, she carried a card! Isn't that what cards are for? How's that God's hand?" All I can say is those small moments of ordinary things bring His presence in my everyday life into focus and remind me that He is present, yes; but more He is looking for relationship with me, daily, on-going, involved in my days relationship. And by the way, He's looking for the daily, on-going, involved in your days relationship with you, too.
Monday, July 12, 2010
The Why's - Remembering Cora
Why do bee stings hurt?
Why does that noise hurt my ears?
Why is milk lumpy?
Why do you have sooooo many freckles?
Why can't I touch the blue up there (in the sky)?
Why, Mommy, why?
My children's questions made me laugh.
My children's questions drove me nuts sometimes.
My children's questions stirred wonder in me,
And caused me to recognize the why's inside of me.
So often I ask why.
Why Father?
Why them?
Why that child?
Why like this?
Why now?
Why? WHY? why?
And I see how small I really am.
How big you really are
And I know
There will be a day of understanding.
One day
When we see you face to face.
The why's won't matter.
They won't even exist.
The perfect clarity of your wisdom and timing will fill our understanding.
Until then Father
I am content to be your child
filled with unanswered why's
and learning to trust you more.
Four years ago today, dear friends of ours lost their five month old little girl to SIDS. It was devastating to them and to those of us who love them. Watching them suffer through the days of waiting while the baby clung to life, sitting and praying for healing for her, strength and faith for them, wisdom for the doctors, pulled at our own faith and gave us moments of overwhelming anger and questions. Why would God allow such a heartless situation to people who are so faithful and love him? And we had prayed in faith for Cora's restoration. So why didn't God raise her up? Why would he give life only to require it back in such short notice?
I remember standing in the back of the room at church during the worship time, holding Cora and feeling her little chest move with the effort of sound. Then realizing she was responding to the music and even to the feeling of the moment. And for a brief glimpse I saw her worship.
The movement of her tiny mouth, baby noises, baby nose, wrinkled with the effort.
a sense of sweetness floods my soul as I watch her in my arms.
How cute, my thoughts.
And Your whisper breaks into my thought,
Not cute, awesome, inspiring, worship.
In the middle of a time of worship, the people sing, stand, kneel, cry.
This little one joins in the moment, her heart tuned to Your Spirit and
The movement of her tiny mouth, baby noises, baby nose, wrinkled with the effort
Became the sweetest of praise among us.
Pure, innocent worship lifted from her tiny mouth to your Glory.
I stand in awe that even this littlest among us responds in worship.
And she responds with the movement of her tiny mouth , baby noises, baby nose, wrinkled with the effort, a true worshiper in Spirit and truth.
Yesterday our pastor spoke on a faith myth, "If you just believe, have enough faith, everything will be fine. If you just believe hard enough . . ." But life doesn't work that way always. The rain falls into the lives of unbelievers and believers alike. Death still has its moment that appears to be a victory. Dispair and grief are words that hold full meaning in these kinds of moments. So what good does this faith do for us then?
It is our hope, beloved. The hope of glory, the promise of eternity, the truth that it doesn't all end here and now. We have a tomorrow and there will be a day for those who know Christ when there will be no more tears; death's victory is swallowed up in the empty tomb of Christ and we can know in faith that we too will see that day. Cora is not lost to us. She is only away to a life we will know in full . . .someday. When the trumpet shouts and the Lord returns, or when each of us in our own appointed time step through that same door. In that day we will witness her worshiping at the foot of throne, casting her crown before him, and others we have missed and longed to see again will likewise be doing the same. The questions will disappear, for we will know in truth and completeness. Best of all, we will be with Him. Jesus and all that He is will fill our presence in a way that here and now we can only "taste and see", but then we will know.
So for now I can only imagine Cora as she worships at the throne, casting her crown before him and singing with joy. I look forward to the day when I too can cast my crown and sing before Him who is, who was, and who is to come.
Why does that noise hurt my ears?
Why is milk lumpy?
Why do you have sooooo many freckles?
Why can't I touch the blue up there (in the sky)?
Why, Mommy, why?
My children's questions made me laugh.
My children's questions drove me nuts sometimes.
My children's questions stirred wonder in me,
And caused me to recognize the why's inside of me.
So often I ask why.
Why Father?
Why them?
Why that child?
Why like this?
Why now?
Why? WHY? why?
And I see how small I really am.
How big you really are
And I know
There will be a day of understanding.
One day
When we see you face to face.
The why's won't matter.
They won't even exist.
The perfect clarity of your wisdom and timing will fill our understanding.
Until then Father
I am content to be your child
filled with unanswered why's
and learning to trust you more.
Four years ago today, dear friends of ours lost their five month old little girl to SIDS. It was devastating to them and to those of us who love them. Watching them suffer through the days of waiting while the baby clung to life, sitting and praying for healing for her, strength and faith for them, wisdom for the doctors, pulled at our own faith and gave us moments of overwhelming anger and questions. Why would God allow such a heartless situation to people who are so faithful and love him? And we had prayed in faith for Cora's restoration. So why didn't God raise her up? Why would he give life only to require it back in such short notice?
I remember standing in the back of the room at church during the worship time, holding Cora and feeling her little chest move with the effort of sound. Then realizing she was responding to the music and even to the feeling of the moment. And for a brief glimpse I saw her worship.
The movement of her tiny mouth, baby noises, baby nose, wrinkled with the effort.
a sense of sweetness floods my soul as I watch her in my arms.
How cute, my thoughts.
And Your whisper breaks into my thought,
Not cute, awesome, inspiring, worship.
In the middle of a time of worship, the people sing, stand, kneel, cry.
This little one joins in the moment, her heart tuned to Your Spirit and
The movement of her tiny mouth, baby noises, baby nose, wrinkled with the effort
Became the sweetest of praise among us.
Pure, innocent worship lifted from her tiny mouth to your Glory.
I stand in awe that even this littlest among us responds in worship.
And she responds with the movement of her tiny mouth , baby noises, baby nose, wrinkled with the effort, a true worshiper in Spirit and truth.
Yesterday our pastor spoke on a faith myth, "If you just believe, have enough faith, everything will be fine. If you just believe hard enough . . ." But life doesn't work that way always. The rain falls into the lives of unbelievers and believers alike. Death still has its moment that appears to be a victory. Dispair and grief are words that hold full meaning in these kinds of moments. So what good does this faith do for us then?
It is our hope, beloved. The hope of glory, the promise of eternity, the truth that it doesn't all end here and now. We have a tomorrow and there will be a day for those who know Christ when there will be no more tears; death's victory is swallowed up in the empty tomb of Christ and we can know in faith that we too will see that day. Cora is not lost to us. She is only away to a life we will know in full . . .someday. When the trumpet shouts and the Lord returns, or when each of us in our own appointed time step through that same door. In that day we will witness her worshiping at the foot of throne, casting her crown before him, and others we have missed and longed to see again will likewise be doing the same. The questions will disappear, for we will know in truth and completeness. Best of all, we will be with Him. Jesus and all that He is will fill our presence in a way that here and now we can only "taste and see", but then we will know.
So for now I can only imagine Cora as she worships at the throne, casting her crown before him and singing with joy. I look forward to the day when I too can cast my crown and sing before Him who is, who was, and who is to come.
Wednesday, July 7, 2010
He prayed
Of all the days it was today
He chose to say it aloud
Doesn't happen often
rarely spoken
But today was deep blue
My heart felt so heavy
It seemed I could never measure up
To all they seem to need from me
The weight of my lacking as a mom
Crushed my spirit
My weary heat-spent spirit
And I could not be anything
To anyone
In this exhausted state.
So I laid on the bed crying
As silently as I could
So not to upset them
Or so I thought.
And then it happened.
"We should pray for mom."
And then he did.
He laid his hand of faith
On my shoulder
And he prayed.
He prayed with wisdom
beyond his tender 10 years
It was good
It was real
It was amazing
And that would have been enough.
encouraging enough
Cradling my heart in love.
But then it came
He cuddled up on the bed next to me
And stated clearly
"I'm glad you're my parents. I wouldn't want anyone else."
Who could have seen that coming?
Who could have guessed at that?
He prayed
And then became the very answer that I needed.
I wrote this three years ago while we were on a family vacation. I was so worn out and tired and I couldn't seem to please anyone, even in the things I was doing right, which wasn't many things that day or the day before. Some of it was them, but some of it, maybe a lot of it, was me. I needed to rest at the feet of Jesus and be reminded of who it is that is my strength. I had found myself unreasonable and yelling and angry when it was way beyond the moment. Ever been there? The conviction was heavy, and the repentance came swiftly. But somehow the enemy saw the door of opportunity and slinked through to condemn and bite me with accusations and reminders of past failures. He reminded me of how often I had yelled recently. He reminded me that Dad was really fun, but Mom was the party pooper. He reminded me how angry I sounded the whole week whenever anyone spoke to me. He reminded me that these two youngest children of mine were extra treasures that the Lord had entrusted to my "safe" keeping and he reminded me of how much I was failing in this responsibility. And I listened. I absorbed the condemnation and the lies as well as the half truths. I accepted it like candy and didn't question the bearer of such words. They floated into my thoughts with a gentle rush that never alarmed my weary and tired mind.
Now I know better. I know how to raise up the shield of faith and put on the helmet of salvation. I know who I am in the Kingdom and I know to whom I belong. But I was weary and I needed the Body to remind me and to hold me before my Savior's gentle loving healing. I didn't want to "ruin" any more of their fun though and so, I slipped away from my family and laid on the bed to cry as quietly as possible, feeling like failure and VERY sorry for myself.
That's when my son came in and heard me. I tried to pretend I was just sleeping so I wouldn't upset him. But he had already seen and had already been given heavenly orders. "We should pray for mom." His prayer was so to the point and hit all the marks. I knew that the Lord was reminding me that we are children in His Kingdom and need to approach him as such. I knew that the Lord was able to use whomever he chooses to use and that day in late June in the mountains of PA, He chose Tim.
Now I would not have chosen Tim. Not just because he was a 10 year old, but also because up to that point we had seen very little interest spiritually from Tim. I would not have expected him to grasp there was a need, let alone a spiritual need in mom. But there it was. So many things revealed in one short moment.
Jesus reminded through my child, that I was the Father's and needed to come like a child. He showed me that He is working in the life of this son that I saw no indication of His hand, well not much in the child's words or actions. And then the final lesson, Tim never cuddled. Not even as a baby. He didn't encourage. It is not his gifting. But that day (and many since) he cuddled up right next to me and said the only words that would have washed me in the living water of truth and reminded me that I serve an awesome, mighty, loving God who is never late and never tired; who is long suffering and kind even when I have worn out his last nerve. (Does the Infinite Almighty have a last nerve? hmm.)
I had a day similar to that day just today. Only I wasn't completely lost and frazzled. I didn't need to pretend sleep and cry or feel sorry for me. And Tim didn't come to pray over me. However, when I came home and was thinking about what I would write today or pick to print from my writings, I couldn't find what I started to write the other day for this blog. But I found this poem. And again I am refreshed and reminded that I am His and it's "not by might and not by power, but by My Spirit says the Lord." (Zech. 4:6)
He chose to say it aloud
Doesn't happen often
rarely spoken
But today was deep blue
My heart felt so heavy
It seemed I could never measure up
To all they seem to need from me
The weight of my lacking as a mom
Crushed my spirit
My weary heat-spent spirit
And I could not be anything
To anyone
In this exhausted state.
So I laid on the bed crying
As silently as I could
So not to upset them
Or so I thought.
And then it happened.
"We should pray for mom."
And then he did.
He laid his hand of faith
On my shoulder
And he prayed.
He prayed with wisdom
beyond his tender 10 years
It was good
It was real
It was amazing
And that would have been enough.
encouraging enough
Cradling my heart in love.
But then it came
He cuddled up on the bed next to me
And stated clearly
"I'm glad you're my parents. I wouldn't want anyone else."
Who could have seen that coming?
Who could have guessed at that?
He prayed
And then became the very answer that I needed.
I wrote this three years ago while we were on a family vacation. I was so worn out and tired and I couldn't seem to please anyone, even in the things I was doing right, which wasn't many things that day or the day before. Some of it was them, but some of it, maybe a lot of it, was me. I needed to rest at the feet of Jesus and be reminded of who it is that is my strength. I had found myself unreasonable and yelling and angry when it was way beyond the moment. Ever been there? The conviction was heavy, and the repentance came swiftly. But somehow the enemy saw the door of opportunity and slinked through to condemn and bite me with accusations and reminders of past failures. He reminded me of how often I had yelled recently. He reminded me that Dad was really fun, but Mom was the party pooper. He reminded me how angry I sounded the whole week whenever anyone spoke to me. He reminded me that these two youngest children of mine were extra treasures that the Lord had entrusted to my "safe" keeping and he reminded me of how much I was failing in this responsibility. And I listened. I absorbed the condemnation and the lies as well as the half truths. I accepted it like candy and didn't question the bearer of such words. They floated into my thoughts with a gentle rush that never alarmed my weary and tired mind.
Now I know better. I know how to raise up the shield of faith and put on the helmet of salvation. I know who I am in the Kingdom and I know to whom I belong. But I was weary and I needed the Body to remind me and to hold me before my Savior's gentle loving healing. I didn't want to "ruin" any more of their fun though and so, I slipped away from my family and laid on the bed to cry as quietly as possible, feeling like failure and VERY sorry for myself.
That's when my son came in and heard me. I tried to pretend I was just sleeping so I wouldn't upset him. But he had already seen and had already been given heavenly orders. "We should pray for mom." His prayer was so to the point and hit all the marks. I knew that the Lord was reminding me that we are children in His Kingdom and need to approach him as such. I knew that the Lord was able to use whomever he chooses to use and that day in late June in the mountains of PA, He chose Tim.
Now I would not have chosen Tim. Not just because he was a 10 year old, but also because up to that point we had seen very little interest spiritually from Tim. I would not have expected him to grasp there was a need, let alone a spiritual need in mom. But there it was. So many things revealed in one short moment.
Jesus reminded through my child, that I was the Father's and needed to come like a child. He showed me that He is working in the life of this son that I saw no indication of His hand, well not much in the child's words or actions. And then the final lesson, Tim never cuddled. Not even as a baby. He didn't encourage. It is not his gifting. But that day (and many since) he cuddled up right next to me and said the only words that would have washed me in the living water of truth and reminded me that I serve an awesome, mighty, loving God who is never late and never tired; who is long suffering and kind even when I have worn out his last nerve. (Does the Infinite Almighty have a last nerve? hmm.)
I had a day similar to that day just today. Only I wasn't completely lost and frazzled. I didn't need to pretend sleep and cry or feel sorry for me. And Tim didn't come to pray over me. However, when I came home and was thinking about what I would write today or pick to print from my writings, I couldn't find what I started to write the other day for this blog. But I found this poem. And again I am refreshed and reminded that I am His and it's "not by might and not by power, but by My Spirit says the Lord." (Zech. 4:6)
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
