The Dark Side of Light

Depression follows me like a shadow, and my perspective of it shifts based on where my eyes are looking. Most often, I am looking at my family, and I see darkness and light play over their lives in varying degrees of contrast.

I see my oldest adopted son, whom has spiraled from the joyful light of living out his dreams and achieving his goals, down into the dark depths of schizophrenia. I see the shadows of paranoia, hostility, and anger that have hurt and isolated him from the people who care about him the most. I am helpless to stop the darkness from consuming my son, and the obvious contrast to the light-filled life he has left behind makes my heart ache. The years of effort and love that my family and my brother's family have invested into him causes my sense of reason to shake its fist in frustration and ask "Why? Why would God bring him to us, only to allow him to be lost like this?" Matthew 5:3 in The Message Bible says, "You’re blessed when you’re at the end of your rope. With less of you there is more of God and his rule." I am trying to come to a place where I can have hope in my son's "poorness of spirit". Jesus said that he would bless those who found themselves in the circumstance of being emotionally depleted. While I cannot understand why my son is rejecting the life and the people that he had previously chosen to care about, I also cannot understand the pain of the twelve years he lived before I ever knew him. What I do understand is that I know my son is aware of the love that God has for him. He has been immersed in that love for the last twenty years of his life, and it cannot be without effect.

I also see my husband, who suffers daily with pain and exhaustion. I see the shadow of disease hanging over his life, limiting his relationships, challenging every celebration, coloring every experience with its unavoidable presence. I hear his tired voice as he pushes through each day, never questioning why, just dealing with what's in front of him and inside of him as it comes. I feel his frustration as we figure out our limited finances and as we plan our family schedule trying to predict his stamina. I feel his arms around me as he gingerly holds me - tight enough to comfort me, loose enough to avoid more pain in his body. I respect him for his refusal to feel sorry for himself and his refusal to allow others to offer him pity. I am not so strong as he is, though, and I sometimes cry over the shadow that his sickness casts over the life we once lived as I mourn what we've lost. Matthew 5:4 in The Message Bible says, "You’re blessed when you feel you’ve lost what is most dear to you. Only then can you be embraced by the One most dear to you." Maybe that's why my husband can accept his situation without question. Maybe his acceptance of what is gone opens him up to the comfort God has for him. Maybe the peace he now has within himself is something he would have never experienced with the intense focus he used to have on things in his life which brought only temporary satisfaction. Maybe he does mourn what is lost, but the comfort of God fills him with gratitude for the blessing he has in his family and in his faith.

I see another of my sons, who teeters on the edge of darkness and light. I see the shadows pulling at him, as they also do me. I see him struggle with the hopelessness of the dark things of the world that stand out so starkly against the light which he knows holds God. I listen to him reason through his own emotions. I watch him fight with his own impulses. I feel his pain and his confusion as he wades through the muck of adolescence and of this world that sucks at his feet and tries to pull him down. I deliberate over parenting decisions and finding balance between guidance and trust. I ruminate over the past and wonder if I protected him enough or if I protected him too much. I love him fiercely, but I know that my love alone is not enough to keep him from being overcome by the dark. Matthew 5:5 in The Message Bible says, "You’re blessed when you’re content with just who you are—no more, no less. That’s the moment you find yourselves proud owners of everything that can’t be bought.” I know that my son battles with his emotions. I know that it's scary to be vulnerable and transparent and to let people really know who you are inside. I know this because I often face the same battle and fear. I want to hide away and deny my fears and protect myself from the judgement and knowledge of people around me. But I also know that letting people know me is what God created me for. I know that he wants us to encourage each other and to grow together and to never feel alone. And I also know that when someone rejects who I am, that it does not change my value, no matter how much it hurts. When I watch my son struggle, I sometimes feel helpless, but never hopeless. I know that he belongs to God and that nothing can ever overcome that.

So... this again is the paradox of blessing. I know that my need for God is greatest when my circumstances are too big for me. I know that it means I am blessed by the difficulties I face because they push me down and cause me to be dependent on God to lift me up. I know that dependency means God's presence in my life has the opportunity to be big and strong. I know that strong presence is a light that is bright. However, I have also experienced that the brightness makes the contrast of the dark things even more prominent. This is where I struggle to stay in the light, rather than step back into the gray of the shadows. Choosing to see suffering and choosing to be seen in my own suffering is very difficult. The grayness of depression allows me to avoid dealing with an emotional intensity that is painful and revealing. Yet, I realize that God has called the grayness a worthless place to remain. He does not want me to be hidden. He desires me to bring his flavor to the situations I am faced with in my life. He desires me to shine his light out into the darkness that surrounds me. It's up to me to decide now, whether to stay hidden in the grayness or to walk towards hope and leave the shadows behind.

“You are the salt of the earth. But what good is salt if it has lost its flavor? Can you make it salty again? It will be thrown out and trampled underfoot as worthless.”
‭‭Matthew‬ ‭5:13‬ ‭NLT‬‬

“No one lights a lamp and then puts it under a basket. Instead, a lamp is placed on a stand, where it gives light to everyone in the house.”
‭‭Matthew‬ ‭5:15‬ ‭NLT‬‬

"It is not the emotionally endowed that God blesses, but the poor in spirit. It is not the buoyant and boisterous he comforts, but those who mourn. Not the prideful, but the meek." -David Mathis

“God blesses those who are poor and realize their need for him, for the Kingdom of Heaven is theirs. God blesses those who mourn, for they will be comforted. God blesses those who are humble, for they will inherit the whole earth.” -Matthew‬ ‭5:3-5‬ ‭NLT‬‬

"Hope is like the sun, which, as we journey toward it, casts the shadow of our burden behind us." - Samuel Smiles

Climbing Towards Hope

I was 13 yrs old almost 14 on November 2, 1984. I was an 8th grader in middle school living with my mom and dad and brothers in Illinois, and my biggest decision was if my best friend and I should sleep over at her house or mine on Friday night. My future husband was a sophmore in high school, 14 almost 15 years old. He lived thirty minutes away from me, just down the road from Six Flags Great America, with his mom and little sister. 

We didn't even know each other then.

We barely even knew ourselves. 

Yet, one thousand miles away in Colorado, a baby was born on that day who would one day call us (us!) Mom and Dad. 

Fast-forward twelve years to 1997 and the scene shows my husband and I with our own 4 month old baby Cody, living in Wisconsin. A social worker knocks on our door and after spending five minutes in our living room, she drops off two skinny, mop-headed boys ages 8 and 12, and that is the day we all became family. As a newly married couple of less than two years, ourselves in our mid twenties, with all of four months of parenting experience consisting of changing poopy diapers and rocking a crying baby to sleep, we probably were the farthest from ideal parents that anyone could imagine for these boys. For the almost teenager with autism, Tourette's syndrome, and the beginning whispers of schizophrenia especially - we would not be anyone's first pick. However, at the time, we were the only option available within two counties. No matter - this child had already survived twelve and a half years of storms without an umbrella, and he was not about to drown in the mud puddle of trial and error that we had to offer him. 

I am aware that we were not prepared by the world's standards of what "qualifies" a person to make a difference in the life of a child living with the challenges of disability and a traumatic past. We had no special training and not a whole lot of support from so-called experts... but we did have a home, some extra beds, and a carboard box in the closet full of matchbox cars and a plastic alligator that would appear as treasure to two little boys with no other place to go. 

Nineteen years later, I am constantly looking back and cringing at the hundreds of mistakes we probably made in trying to raise this boy along with his brother, but I know in my heart that we got at least one thing right. We listened to God when He said that we were to show our love for Him by taking care of anyone who had no one. Still, I believe the important part of any story is not what people do or who they are, but what God does and who He is. What we had to offer this child was so inadequate - the times that we failed him and still do are numerous. But God takes anything we are willing to give to Him and uses it for His purpose according to His plan. I look at our story and and I see it is about some very imperfect, uncertain, unremarkable people - and I also see that it is about an amazing God who is so powerful, so compassionate, so capable that He can use our brokeness to accomplish His task exactly as He intended. God knew that baby born in Colorado 32 years ago would eventually become our son. 

When our son reached adulthood, my brother became our son’s guardian and successfully took on the responsibility to mentor him over the last 14 years into becoming a man... a man who serves God and who serves his community and never knows a stranger. At the same time, however, our son is also a man who struggles with his intellectual limitations and with the ominous shadows of mental illness. He, like all of us, lives in the constant tension of who he is, who he wants to be, and the challenges of the obstacles in-between. The past few years have been difficult for him, as his emotional memory and his psychiatric symptoms battle to reconcile with his present life and sense of well-being. It is a painful struggle. 

I have been thinking about my son for hours today, his birth day. My heart is broken because he is spending this day that should be a celebration of his life in the psychiatric unit of an acute care center. I have been crying angry tears because life's circumstances are so unfair and many times cruel. For the millionth time I feel completely helpless in facing the darkness of the terrible things in this world over which we truly have no control. 

However, in the midst of the battle with my feelings, I choose to remember that God is a good and perfect Father. I choose to focus on the promise that He has a plan and a purpose for everyone's life - everyone's. And I choose to believe the truth that even when life's journey takes us down inconceivable paths of hardship and suffering, if we look to God to lead us through, we will get to the magnificent destination where He knows we belong.

So, in my brokenness I am praying to God, and looking for Him wholeheartedly to be at work in this mess. I am determined to be grateful for the many good things in the life of my son, and to continue to be hopeful for an even better future. 

It's very easy to feel the face of God shining on us in the good times. I am thankful for those mountain tops we find where we experience complete joy and satisfaction. However, I'm aware that it is in the difficult climb that I grasp for His hand and ask Him to hold me up in my weariness, and to trade my heavy burden for His lighter one. It is in the hard places that I have truly come to know God, and to find rest for my restless soul. That knowledge is treasure, and so, on his birthday today, I pray that my son will find rest for his, also.

“For I know the plans I have for you,” says the LORD. “They are plans for good and not for disaster, to give you a future and a hope. In those days when you pray, I will listen. If you look for me wholeheartedly, you will find me.” Jeremiah 29:11-13 NLT

“Then Jesus said, 'Come to me, all of you who are weary and carry heavy burdens, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you. Let me teach you, because I am humble and gentle at heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy to bear, and the burden I give you is light.'"

Matthew 11:28-30 NLT

“Share your food with the hungry, and give shelter to the homeless. Give clothes to those who need them, and do not hide from relatives who need your help.”

Isaiah 58:7 NLT

“Yet God has made everything beautiful for its own time. He has planted eternity in the human heart, but even so, people cannot see the whole scope of God’s work from beginning to end.”

Ecclesiastes 3:11 NLT

Beyond The Wilderness

A desert wind is a powerful force... It flings waves of sand into undulating dunes, mimicking the motion of the sea. It dries the arid landscape into a myriad of wandering cracks which converge in a hundred variable directions. It ceaselessly erodes crumbling sandstone to expose magnificent sculptures of ombré rock once hidden beneath the loose terrain. It is the destructive force of this stalwart wind that reveals the beauty of the desert plain.

It seems like for a long time, I have been wandering in the wilderness of life, my head down in the gale, my mind open to the voice of my Creator, my spirit ebbing and flowing to and from hope. I have learned more and more to wait with my Father, as He patiently teaches me to stay in the oasis of His arms and the shelter of His will. Lately, I've noticed, He has lifted my chin and shielded my eyes from the brilliance of His light, to show me more of the beauty in the residuum surrounding my life.

I have discovered, as I look around, that my life here in the desert is intersected by many lives near me - each one beautiful in a different way than the next, each one pummeled by circumstances which have shaped the person living it into an exquisite form of mercy and grace, clinging to the hope of our God's sovereign will.

"In His fierce love, God sometimes impels us into the wilderness... Amidst harsh dehydration, God’s presence remains."

-Margaret Feinberg

I do not know why God's journey for me must lead, at times, through heartbreak and anguish and separation and sorrow and the difficulties of the desert. It's hard for me to understand why loving someone requires I must go through times of suffering directly related to that love... but the treasure for me in that mystery is that even so, even so, I find that I am still willing to choose to love. I can only comprehend the catalyst of this voluntary sacrificial love by considering what I know of the generous love of my Savior.

...when Jesus knew that his hour had come to depart out of this world to the Father, having loved his own who were in the world, he loved them to the end. 

-John 13:1 ESV

He loved them to the end!

That is the part that captivates me. That is the part that grabs my heart and begins to try and shape it to look like the heart of Jesus. Knowing the excruciating task of the cross was immediately before him, knowing that the suffering ahead of him was because of the sins of even the very people he was spending his last hours with, even so, even so, Jesus chose to continue to actively love them in their sin. How amazing, how freeing to be always able to choose love and to always make that choice expecting nothing in return!

As I raise my head and look around the wilderness, I see the breathtaking reflection of the love of Jesus Christ in the actions of people whose lives are neighboring mine: 

• I see one child wild and wounded, embraced for a time by people who have loved and restored her by choice before reluctantly releasing her in obedience and faith, too soon for sane comprehension, into a world of instability and darkeness. I see these people, left behind, continuing to expose their hearts, already raw with the weariness of battle, choosing regardless to continue to grasp in their love still another child... to keep her from drowning herself in silence while covered in iron-willed armor. As they struggle to clothe her spirit instead with light and with hope and with an openness to the healing love of her Heavenly Father, they are desperately aware of the shadowed path ahead that wants to extinguish her flickering flame and wrap her again in grayness and void. Yet, I see they are choosing to love, even so...
•  I see an abandoned baby boy, received with open arms and open hearts of parents who treasured him without hesitation before they even touched him, despite an awareness of years of expected medical crises and brain surgeries ahead. I see that same boy grown into a young man, ravaged by the emotional effects of his physical battles, still loved, still accepted, even through trying periods of rebelliousness and desperate acting out. I see parents who have loved him unceasingly, even so...
• I see a beautiful young girl, blind to her own exquisite worth, straining heedlessly against the resolute arms of her steadfast parent, whose overflowing heart refuses to surrender a child to the deception of circumstantial value. I see a parent hanging on with love, even so...
•  I see a young couple tending their seedling children, nourishing their growth with laughter and faith. I see their faces marked with love and concern as one child wavers at times in the persistent desert sun. I see them reaching up to God in faith, a faith that in turn reaches deep through the desert sand to establish enduring roots of hope and resilience. Already they have learned to bend rather than break with each gust, holding onto the certainty of their Father's hand, even as their child holds to theirs. I see they are determined to never let go of His will, even so...

“Go out and stand before me on the mountain,” the Lord told him. And as Elijah stood there, the Lord passed by, and a mighty windstorm hit the mountain. It was such a terrible blast that the rocks were torn loose, but the Lord was not in the wind. After the wind there was an earthquake, but the Lord was not in the earthquake. And after the earthquake there was a fire, but the Lord was not in the fire. And after the fire there was the sound of a gentle whisper. When Elijah heard it, he wrapped his face in his cloak and went out and stood at the entrance of the cave. And a voice said,“What are you doing here, Elijah?” 

-1 Kings 19:11-13 NLT

When I find myself in wilderness moments (or days or months or years), even though I may feel afraid or uncertain, I know it is important that I try to remember - God's voice does not consist of the circumstances that are pummeling me. His is the gentle whisper that embraces me and directs my response.

Just as you cannot understand the path of the wind... so you cannot understand the activity of God, who does all things.

-Ecclesiastes 11:5 NLT

Today, I see an orphaned infant turned toddler, joyful in spirit though abandoned at birth to her own circumstances - a precious child adored by all whom she touched, yet a child passed without permanency from person to person to place to place, until one predestined day last summer, she found home in the family who chose and were chosen to love her for keeps. She blossomed like a desert rose exposed to the purity of sunlight. Her face was often lit with a smile and her arms open generously to share whatever was delighting her at the moment. Her family embraced her completely, investing their hearts into her life, choosing to see her through eyes of hope. And hope does not put us to shame, because God's love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit who has been given to us. (Romans 5:5 ESV) Within a few short months, the life of this little child profoundly touched the family that began to claim her as their own, and she grew their hearts and their experiences in directions they had not conceived of before. In the space of one short day this week, I see this family devastated - yet choosing in faith to trust in the goodness of their God, the Author of their precious child's life, even as they discovered her story had been written so differently than they ever could have known - a story now merged into their own, changing it forever. And while her chapter on this earth may have ended, her presence will never be forgotten. I see her still in my mind, her little arms signing "baby" as she thrilled over her sweet companions sharing the room with us that day. I imagine her right now, snuggled blissfully in the arms of Jesus and enraptured wholly in His love, content to finally be home forever, beyond the wilderness of the desert. She loved until the end.

When I think of all this, I fall to my knees and pray to the Father, the Creator of everything in heaven and on earth. I pray that from his glorious, unlimited resources he will empower you with inner strength through his Spirit. Then Christ will make his home in your hearts as you trust in him. Your roots will grow down into God’s love and keep you strong. And may you have the power to understand, as all God’s people should, how wide, how long, how high, and how deep his love is. May you experience the love of Christ, though it is too great to understand fully. Then you will be made complete with all the fullness of life and power that comes from God. Now all glory to God, who is able, through his mighty power at work within us, to accomplish infinitely more than we might ask or think. 

-Ephesians 3:14-20 NLT

You will show me the way of life, granting me the joy of your presence and the pleasures of living with you forever.

-Psalm 16:11 NLT

Waiting for Christmas

I am snuggled up to a heating pad in the living room, soothing my achy hipbone which is bruised from a fall on the ice three weeks ago. Our Christmas tree is lit up with its oversized bulbs softly glowing, each branch heavy with homemade treasures and cartoonish themed store-bought ornaments placed haphazardly by the kids last week. They were thrilled this fun tree was given the place of honor between the dining and living rooms. Usually, that space is occupied by this Mama’s fancy tree hung with white miniature lights and dressed in beautifully crocheted ornaments accented with glass blown icicles. Most often, the fun tree has been confined to the family room. But this year, the fun tree is the centerpiece of our indoor Christmas decorating. We also have an imitation “elf on the shelf” who hangs out in our bathroom (so that she doesn’t become lost or forgotten in the chaos of a house where six children reside). Our stockings are hung from cup hooks in the kitchen (with care… of course, with care!) and a three and half foot stuffed Santa is gracing our family room couch at the moment because my goofy kid-hearted husband thinks it’s “cool” (which it is... in a cheezy North Pole kind of way!)

I feel completely at peace about our haphazard decor this year… an interesting perspective when I consider the untouched tower of bins in the corner of our garage holding a beautiful nutcracker collection, a wooden advent calendar, antique Christmas dishes, a precious carved nativity set, Christmas themed picture books, framed photos of holidays past, and an entire Christmas village. These, and a few other family Christmas heirlooms have been collected over our twenty plus years of marriage. Traditionally, after eleven months of waiting each year, we bring these Christmas items out to replace our everyday home decor which, in turn is packed up in the empty bins for the holiday month. Usually, it doesn't seem like Christmas until the house is prepared, but this year, it just was not a feat that we could accomplish. And it’s okay! Because like I wrote in my last post, I am learning this year, for maybe truly the first time ever, what it means to prepare my heart for Christmas.

In years past, I didn’t think a whole lot about Christmas during the eleven months between one December and the next (other than buying an occasional gift on clearance and throwing it in the back of the closet). December would come, the decorations would go up, and I would attempt to focus my thoughts on the birth of Jesus, and what that meant for me. There were definitely moments where I connected with the emotion of the story - like the year I was nine months pregnant with my son, whose due date was two weeks after Christmas. That year, I identified with the heavy weariness of Mary… I felt significant compassion for this young girl 2000 years earlier who was required to travel so far under such barbaric conditions - cold and wracked with labor pains, no place to lay down and rest - let alone to birth a baby! But the empathy of that moment or other fleeting ones similar, did not really fill the longing in my heart for a total awareness and understanding of the meaning of Christmas as the celebration came and went each year. I mean, I knew why we were celebrating Christmas. I knew we were honoring the birth of Jesus. I knew we were showing gratitude to the Father for the gift of the Son. I knew that part of the celebration was reflected in the activities we chose to involve ourselves in such as giving to charities or participating in church events. However, the connection I experienced with the meaning was temporary, fleeting - not even close to the confluence of the event with its personal relevance to me that I somehow knew could exist.

But this year, this year! This year I believe I have discovered what I have been yearning for every Christmas for as long as I can remember. What I have come to understand is that Christmas is about the preparation of my heart that requires more than the hour of the Christmas Eve Service, more than the month of December when the world dictates we focus on Christmas. Christmas is about the process of preparing my heart for Christ that occurs the whole year through. It is about the relationship I am building with Jesus my whole life through!

I have spent the last year in relationship with Jesus in a way I have never experienced before. I have explored my Bible daily at the least, more often even several times throughout a day, searching the words that have come from my God, listening for the ones which are speaking to my heart at that moment, choosing ones to use in my prayers as I have grasped on to God's promises and direction. As I have meditated on His words, I have spoken or written my own back to Him- questioning Him, thanking Him, appealing to Him, praising Him, and even pouring out my anger, disappointment, or despair to Him. Rarely has an hour gone by that I have not found myself commenting to God. Rarely has a week gone by that I have not found myself either crying to God or sharing the good things in my life with Him. And I have not limited the subject of our conversations to myself, but have also spent time bringing my husband, my family, my friends, my acquaintances, and even strangers whose circumstances take my notice - all of these I have brought to God in prayer.

God has revealed so much more of Himself to me during this year, than I have ever experienced of Him before. He has been patient with my hesitency to always trust Him. He has been forgiving of my stubborn attempts to override Him when I ignorantly wanted my own way. He has comforted me in so many different ways when all I could do was cry. God has been everything to me this year that I have needed, every time that I have been willing to allow Him to be.

Most significant of all, is what God has done for me this past year by allowing me to remain in a season of waiting... even when I didn't want to wait (which I am ashamed to say has been the case more often then not). After an entire year spent in this time of waiting, what I am finally just beginning to discover is that the waiting is a gift! God has opened my eyes, and I now can see that it is in the waiting time that He prepares me for what is coming next! Because I have invested so much time during this past year in my relationship with Him, I have learned, repetitively, that I need to consciously surrender to Him my need for control, and to trust Him to prepare me in His best possible way for what is ahead. I see that when I am more often able to come to that place of surrender, I can more often choose to wait with hope and with expectancy, with grace and with a good attitude, with patience and with faith. This is how I prepare my heart for Christmas!

In the book The Blessed Woman, the author refers to the story of Rebekah in the Old Testament, specifically to Rebekah's attitude in waiting…“In the meantime, she would meet the need at hand. She’d take the opportunity the Lord had given her.” I want very much to have that attitude of waiting that Rebekah had.  

All year, I have consciously moved closer to Jesus. During this time He has shown me opportunity after opportunity in the waiting time to serve other people, to pray for other people, to listen to other people. He has shown me that as I prepare my heart to receive Him, He prepares my heart to follow Him. This Christmas, I believe I finally understand that celebrating the birth of Jesus is about the anticipation. 

For Mary and Joseph, it was about the anticipation of the details surrounding the actual birth. 

For the shepherds, it was about the anticipation of seeing with their own eyes the miraculous news which the magnificent angel had shared with them. 

For the wisemen, it was about the anticipation of the destination the star was leading them to and the possibility of worshipping this King whom the prophets for hundreds of years had written was coming. 

For me, celebrating the birth of Jesus is about the anicipation of what God will do next in my life. 

I am now, more than ever, aware of and amazed at all of the miracles that came together surrounding the birth of Jesus on that first Christmas night. Because of this last year of intentionally trying to remain in a consistently close relationship with Him, I am now more aware that His birth as a human on the first Christmas, is precisely the miracle that allows Him to relate to exactly who I am today - everything I feel, everything I fear, everything I desire - nothing is hidden or below His understanding of me. The life of Jesus born human at Christmas is the most amazing gift God could have ever blessed me with because His gift of life is what has saved my life. His gift of life has made me realize the value of my life. His gift of life has allowed me to wait in anticipation for what He will do next, and to know with everything I am, that whatever He is planning, I can trust that it will occur in His perfect timing for me.

This Christmas and throughout this next year, I will wait with God in anticipation for what is ahead. Even though I know that the waiting time is sometimes difficult and at times, even painful, I also know the joy that comes with being near to God. Waiting with God in anticipation of the best things that lay beyond the challenging things... that is the meaning of Christmas!

Breathe Peace

Here at our house, our family's Christmas tree is not yet decorated, even the strings of lights are lying in a jumble under the bare tree branches. No Christmas cookies have been baked so far, although there are crumbs on the counter from ones that Grandma brought a few days ago. Our house is not prepared inside for Christmas - but that's okay, because we are learning that the Advent season is more about preparing the inside of our hearts. This month, my family and I and our stubborn hearts, are being given many opportunities to learn patience for doing things as we can and for letting go, in peace, of what we can't. We are learning to appreciate time together, even when things are not going right,(which is much of the time... so obviously, we must need a lot of practice!)

Today, we were running late for church as usual - some of us too focused on being ready for the Children's Christmas Program to notice the minutes flying by, all of us not morning people and thinking more about our pillows than our clocks. After three attempts at hollering down the stairs, my tone carried enough urgency to motivate my drowsy troupe into waiting in the car. I returned to the bathroom mirror alone and awkwardly twisted my arm behind my back in an attempt to finish zipping my dress with a reach just shy of effective. Finally, I paused with frustration at my struggling reflection, looked into the mirror, and breathed deliberately. I reminded myself (as I often do) to quiet my heart and allow calm in, to open myself to peace. After all, the unchangeable truth is that God is still God, even if we're late for church! 

A short time later (feeling encouraged by my one last determined and successful effort to conquer the elusive dress zipper), I pulled our vehicle into the church parking lot. We surreptiously slipped in a side door of the building to avoid friendly greeters at the front who might absorb minutes of smiles and small-talk that we did not have available to invest at the moment. (But usually, we are glad to feel very welcomed by the greeters!) Releasing a sigh with my dwindling tension, I nudged my own kids and a few other stragglers to find their groups that would be lining up for their performance entry soon. Then I deftly navigated a path to a familiar seat as the church service unfolded. With a spirit of expectation, I settled in, all the while reflecting on the many past years of enjoying my kids' Christmas performances.

What I was thinking about in particular, as I waited, was how the holiday children's pageants at church are truly about the reality of what Christmas means. We moms and dads watch with wonder and bated breath, straining our necks to glimpse our kids celebrating the gift of the Baby Jesus. Older church attendees chuckle affectionately at the crooked halos, beam at our little ones' earnest efforts to sing out the joyful notes, lean forward as Mary and Joseph debate in nervous whispers whether it is time yet to hold up the well-loved doll representing the newborn King. Sometimes, a few tears are shed as a nervous child's heart longs for the comfort of her father's arms over the spotlight of overwhelming attention amid the crowd on the stage. Sometimes, the tears are those of the audience as each observer shares a common joy in the faith of a child displayed. All of the bits and pieces of the moments we observe are highly treasured and pondered on altars of love.


Christmas pageants remind us that as a baby, Jesus was born into an imperfect world. He was a precious gift given with unconditional love by our Father in heaven to us, His children on earth. He was the gift of a Savior from our Father God, who gazes affectionately at us as we fumble about, experiencing life and the organized chaos surrounding us... who smiles with pleasure whenever we choose to graciously bring our joy to Him and recognize the good things He daily blesses us with... whose heart aches with ours when we struggle with pain or shed tears over the exacting circumstances that happen in separation from Him... who fills us with peace over the miracle of it all, when we realize that all of this imperfection only makes the beauty of our story shine that much more brightly.

God fills us with peace over the miracle of it all, when we realize that all of this imperfection only makes the beauty of our story shine that much more brightly. 

Later on at home, my heart is soothed by the peace and the joy that God pours over me when I contemplate the gifts He has for me even just in these evening moments  - the sounds of my family teasing each other as we finally come together and hang the colorful, vintage sized Christmas lights on the tree... the happy reminiscing that occurs while old ornaments are mingled among a few new and distributed with affection among heavy laden tree branches...the quietness that comes upon me as I breathe in and breathe out again, watching those I love most in the world illustrate in their actions the same gladness that I feel playing on my own lips...  breathing in the peace that is present.

When the little ones are asleep, my thoughts return one more time to our church service that morning - to the compelling message that our knowledgeable senior pastor shared with us after the pageant. He expressed that the peace of Christmas which we experience today manifests as a peace within ourselves. We come by it when we invite God to place His peace within us, even when there is not peace around us. God's peace for today, is an inner rest, a freedom from anxiety, from worry and despair. This peace is a gift that is available from God for each of us, and all that we have to do to receive it is to trust in Him. I know that for myself, I find that the more difficult my life gets, the more I need to deliberately focus my trust on what God has promised me. Author A.W.Tozer wrote,  "To have found God and still to pursue Him is the soul's paradox of love." I can understand Tozer's curious premise as I, too, have discovered that the more I focus on trusting God, the more peace I receive. The more peace I receive, the more I focus on trusting God. He has blessed me with the present of His presence in my present - with the gift of His peace in my life on this day.

Later still, as I lay in my own bed, I consider the additional gifts God has given to me lovingly wrapped within the walls of my church - the friendships, the lessons, the support, the joy, the security, the encouragement, the prayers... I think about how these gifts, as God has meant them,  are living and growing and powerful gifts, colored with the potential and the intention to spill out of the wrappings, beyond the church building, into my life and community, and even into the world!

I am praying that each one of you reading these words will open your heart to receive God's gift of peace during this Christmas season, and that you will continue to seek Him in all of life's seasons that follow. 

"You will keep in perfect peace all who trust in you, all whose thoughts are fixed on you!
(Isaiah 26:3 NLT) 

May God give you more and more grace and peace as you grow in your knowledge of God and Jesus our Lord. 

(2 Peter 1:2) 

For a child is born to us, a son is given to us. The government will rest on his shoulders. And he will be called: Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace. 

(Isaiah 9:6 NLT) 

I have told you all this so that you may have peace in me. Here on earth you will have many trials and sorrows. But take heart, because I have overcome the world.” 
(John 16:33 NLT) 

“Don’t let your hearts be troubled. Trust in God, and trust also in me. 

(John 14:1 NLT) 

I pray that God, the source of hope, will fill you completely with joy and peace because you trust in him. Then you will overflow with confident hope through the power of the Holy Spirit. 

(Romans 15:13 NLT) 

And just as they were telling about it, Jesus himself was suddenly standing there among them. “Peace be with you,” he said. 

(Luke 24:36 NLT) 

Then you will experience God’s peace, which exceeds anything we can understand. His peace will guard your hearts and minds as you live in Christ Jesus. 

(Philippians 4:7 NLT) 

And let the peace that comes from Christ rule in your hearts

(Colossians 3:15 NLT) 

So letting your sinful nature control your mind leads to death. But letting the Spirit control your mind leads to life and peace. 

(Romans 8:6 NLT)

Until Then, Choose Gratitude

When a gardener plants a flower bulb, she has a vision in mind of the promise of the bloom that will in time grow from that seed. The gardener understands that there is a season for a bulb to remain buried in the dirt, protected from the ice and the wind and the cold while remaining blind to the sun and its light. 

I have been thinking considerably about what it means to be grateful. What I am coming to believe is that gratitude is a concept that encompasses so much more than saying “I'm thankful”. Gratitude is truly valuing the experience, the person, the action, the object - truly valuing the intentions God has for bringing a circumstance into my life. For me, my response to a circumstance affects my ability to find that value. When I respond to a circumstance by choosing to trust God's intention is good, I am showing that I find value in his faithfulness. Attaching that value to a circumstance allows me to have a grateful attitude even when what God has brought me to does not appear to be overtly desirable in my limited perspective.

Gratitude is truly valuing the intentions God 
has for bringing a circumstance into my life.

The gardener knows that eventually, after a time of waiting, there comes a season for the bulb to release the bud, for the bud to break out of the shell that has protected it for a time, and for the shell to become a part of the root system that supports new growth. There comes a season when the nourishment of light from the sun and of moisture from the rain is necessary to the life of the tender young plant. In each of these seasons and with each of these processes, these elements are unpredictable and uncontrolled by the gardener. She must trust that the season appointed for the miracle of the flower blooming is ideal for its growth, despite a dependency on factors not foreseeable at the time of the planting. 

It seems like I am forever balancing on a seesaw of emotion. Wonderful news, heartbreaking news, amazing news, desperate news. At times, I feel weak as I watch the fray of the strings I’ve attached to the circumstances which I find acceptable or comfortable. In my self-centered way, I long to keep life safe, peaceful, controllable. However, in my weakness, I realize that my mere human point of view is limited and incomplete. 

Each day, the gardener tends to the flower, supplementing it with water and with fertilizer as needed in order to support survival and ultimately, the blooming of the plant. One day, after seasons of patient waiting, after days of careful tending, and after faithful persevering through unpredictable weather, the beautiful bloom of the flower appears in all of its magnificent glory.

I know in my heart, if I choose to walk away from the difficult things, if I choose to to walk away from the waiting times - then I am choosing to walk away from the blessings that the processes of the waiting and the enduring will lead me to. I believe in the hope of those blessings because I know God is faithful in his plans of goodness, that he sees the picture of the entire garden in bloom and the beauty in each growth process that leads to that splendor. Still, the toil of the meantime and my limited view of the mud surrounding me challenge my attitude of hope and my ability to value a splendor I cannot yet see.

the toil of the meantime and 

my limited view of the mud surrounding me challenge my attitude of hope 

and my ability to value a splendor I cannot yet see

To patiently wait for the seasons to pass, for the rain to fall, and for the sun to shine are difficult but valuable parts of the growing process. Life is not easy or certain, even in the middle of living God's will. At times, I want to hurry this process along or skip it altogether. At times, I focus only on myself and begin to believe the lie that I deserve to be happy and appeased at all times, that I am entitled to ease, and that avoiding adversity would solve all of my problems. At times, I focus on the life of someone else, and I am deceived by the thought that circumstances other than my own would lead to a better harvest than the one I am struggling for. When I allow my mind to linger on these thoughts, I am choosing not to find the value of the truth. I am choosing to disregard gratitude and instead to believe lies that leave me wallowing in virulent conditions which cultivate bitterness, lead me to despair, and abandon me in darkness.

the painful process of growing 

is a part of the blessing of harvest

Instead of searching for an escape or for an excuse when I become discouraged and weary, I need to be reminded that God did not promise me ease. In fact, God is completely upfront with me in his Word, telling me that I will be tested and that I will feel persecuted by my circumstances, but that the painful process of growing is a part of the blessing of harvest. In the same scriptures, he encourages me that these are the circumstances I can and must endure through. These are the times that I must wait patiently in as he cultivates me to become the mature woman of faith he created me to be, to bloom as he has promised, to become more and more a reflection of Christ, and to harvest his best plan for my life. I need to believe in the the magnificent oasis of his truth, to choose the quiet joy of waiting at his feet for the sunshine and the rain, while being patient in the pruning and in the wind and in the drought. I need to choose to see the value of the process so that I can experience gratitude for the circumstances which bring me to God’s best.

So, here I am, my heart breaking with the pain of a child facing an uninvited future one thousand times more difficult than any he or I would have chosen for his life. Here I am, my heart breaking with the pain of a husband enduring an endless climb up a rocky mountainside covered with slippery slopes and isolating ledges, navigating a path that bears no resemblance to one we would have chosen to walk. Here I am, my heart breaking with the pain of a friend who is daily looking straight into the face of darkness as her arms and her soul protectively encircle two children who have sustained unimaginable horrors, yet, she remains faithfully exposed with them to preposterous situations that she would never have chosen to bring them to. These are just some of the circumstances that surround me and press in on me and call out for me to turn away from the waiting, shriek at me to protect my heart, taunt me to give up on persevering through the unknown. It is excruciating at times to find value in these circumstances that are not what I would have chosen for myself or for these that I love. In this difficulty and in this pain are where I must recognize that God is the one who has chosen, and therefore, the value lies in his purpose, in his ultimate plan for goodness and victory, in his promise that these choices that require us to wait and to suffer and to endure will absolutely with all certainty lead us to a time when we will view our struggles in hindsight as the blink of an eye.

I believe that one day, I will be able to value fully these circumstances that are leading me to a place where God will wipe every tear from my eyes, and where there will be no more death or sorrow or crying or pain, and where all of these things will be gone forever. Until then, I will faithfully plant the seeds God gives me. Until then, I will look to God in expectation to provide the sun and the rain and the resources I need to patiently endure the waiting time and the seasons that remain before the harvest. Until then, I will make every effort to choose to live in gratitude and with joy by valuing the promise that lies beyond the growing time instead of believing the deception that I am entitled to ease and gratification in the here and now.

Until then...

“Dear brothers and sisters, be patient as you wait for the Lord’s return. Consider the farmers who patiently wait for the rains in the fall and in the spring. They eagerly look for the valuable harvest to ripen. You, too, must be patient. Take courage, for the coming of the Lord is near.” James 5:7-8

“‘For I know the plans I have for you,’ says the Lord. ‘They are plans for good and not for disaster, to give you a future and a hope.’” Jeremiah 29:11

“He will wipe every tear from their eyes, and there will be no more death or sorrow or crying or pain. All these things are gone forever.” Revelation 21:4

Remnants of Hope

It's the middle of the night... or, the wee hours of the morning, depending on your perspective, I guess. I am frowning at a note I wrote in reponse to Anne Frank's musings about seven months ago...

“I can shake off everything as I write; my sorrows disappear, my courage is reborn.” ― Anne Frank 

Okay Anne Frank, I am taking your advice once again... sitting here in the dark sorting out my thoughts with my fingers on a back-lit keyboard. The seven other people whom reside in this house are asleep, leaving me to conversations in my mind with names that appear in my overcrowded AOL inbox, across my neverending Facebook feed, inside the e-books of my Kindle app, and between the random observations tweeting through the home page of my Twitter account.

I am thinking about what I would like to tell God - that I am tired of enduring, of waiting, of trusting. I would like to tell Him that I am doing everything that I have found in my path, and that I am ready to move to the next part of life, because being in this part for one more day cannot possibly accomplish anything more than it already has. I would like to ask Him what it is that I am doing wrong, so that I can get it right and come to the end of this waiting...

Seven months later, I am still here, weary... still tired of the enduring... way over the waiting... and in a neverending struggle with the trusting. If I were not forced to be here by my circumstances, would I stay here in this place that feels somewhat like suspended animation? Would I endure if I had a simple option not to? Would I wait if there were a "rush delivery" available to fix all of my problems? Am I actually even trusting like I think I am supposed to? When people say things like, "I don't know how you do it," my inner voice replies, "Do I even know how?", because I really do not think that I do. I think perhaps that God keeps me here in this place in my life, and that He may be the one doing the enduring... patiently waiting for me to finally learn the lessons He has for me, to somehow grasp the wisdom He offers. Maybe He is graciously allowing me to develop the strength and self control to make the choices on my own to trust and endure and to wait for the good things, even if suddenly I were faced with deceptively lovely options that would lead me down a different path than the one He knows is the best for me. Maybe, just maybe, what might appear to me as being restrained by my circumstances from progressing forward is actually the reality of me being held in the arms of God my Father to protect me from a world that I am not yet ready for.

As my mind wanders over these complicated thoughts tangled throughout my drowsy head, I think of another quote I recently read...

“Events may be horrible or inescapable, but people have always a choice - if not whether, then how, they may endure.”
― Lois McMaster Bujold

And perhaps Lois is right. It is true that I may not be choosing to endure at this point in my life, I may simply be enduring because a bit like the way the apostle Paul was physically imprisoned, God has not allowed me an escape from this emotional confinement. Even Paul from his prison cell said that always we have the choice of how to endure. Life and marriage and really, any relationship is about a constant adjusting and adapting of our attitudes and our perspectives of the things we find ourselves either in the midst of, or even just touched by the edge of.  

"Now your attitudes and thoughts must all be constantly changing for the better."
-Ephesians 4:23

I have spent the last six months trying to hang on to the hope we had been living with after my husband's surgery in the six months prior to those. I have spent the last ten weeks looking at the remnants of that hope as he left behind one treatment and moved towards something new.Yesterday, we held that new hope in our hands, afraid almost to see it, tentative in trusting that the something better that is to come could possibly be here. Yet, I do hope... because I am confident that no matter my lability of attitude and no matter my struggle to always comprehend the process, my God is always perfect and always loving and always kind. Because of that confidence in His goodness, I can hope for good things, even not knowing with certainty when or how they will come. 

"Faith is the confidence that what we hope for will actually happen; it gives us assurance about things we cannot see."-Hebrews 11:1

"So be truly glad! There is wonderful joy ahead, even though it is necessary for you to endure many trials for a while. These trials are only to test your faith, to show that it is strong and pure. It is being tested as fire tests and purifies gold -- and your faith is far more precious to God than mere gold. So if your faith remains strong after being tried by fiery trials, it will bring you much praise and glory and honor on the day when Jesus Christ is revealed to the whole world. You love him even though you have never seen him. Though you do not see him, you trust him; and even now you are happy with a glorious, inexpressible joy."
-1 Peter 1:6-8

God is good, all the time. All the time, God is good. 

I invite you to hope along with us.