Remnants of Hope

As Easter approaches, I’ve brought out the appropriate holiday bin in order to decorate for our family celebration on Sunday. The basketful of treasures pictured here is probably my favorite item in the box, each one crocheted or knitted by my Gramma B (except for the eggs which were made by my friend’s mom). When I look at these heirlooms, I think about my grandma’s daily life. She consistently invested her time and used her hands to express her love and consideration for other people, and her actions were often accompanied by words of her faith in God. When I remember my grandma, I find myself hoping that the legacy of faith that she gifted me with never becomes just another heirloom. I hope that I am teaching my own kids that faith is not just a tradition to be pulled out of a box and ritually repeated on holy days and holidays. I hope their nostalgia for the past never transcends the opportunities of their present to experience the faithfulness of God firsthand - opportunities to be stretched and depend on Him, opportunities to show compassion to others in today’s crises, opportunities to worship and serve from hearts of gratefulness rather than simply out of habit and discipline. I hope that the legacy of faith that my grandma gave to me is one my children are personally and powerfully experiencing in their own lives, just as I am in mine. I believe if they saturate their hearts and their motivations with the love of God, their faith will be active and growing. That belief  is the reason I constantly pray that the legacy of faith I am sharing with them will continue to be a living thing, even more precious than a remnant of the past.

“So if you faithfully obey the commands I am giving you today—to love the Lord your God and to serve him with all your heart and with all your soul— then I will send rain on your land in its season, both autumn and spring rains, so that you may gather in your grain, new wine and olive oil… Fix these words of mine in your hearts and minds; tie them as symbols on your hands and bind them on your foreheads. Teach them to your children, talking about them when you sit at home and when you walk along the road, when you lie down and when you get up. Write them on the doorframes of your houses and on your gates, so that your days and the days of your children may be many in the land the Lord swore to give your ancestors, as many as the days that the heavens are above the earth. 

- Deuteronomy‬ ‭11‬:‭13‬-‭14‬, ‭18‬-‭21 NIV‬‬

The Waiting

“There is a life and there is a death, and there are beauty and melancholy between.” ~Albert Camus

Last year was filled with uneasiness for me... a sense that the world was always tilting, and no matter how I attempted to adjust my stance, I never could find a balanced position that allowed me to relax. When the life you are living is filled with uncertainty and hyper-vigilance, you become tired... I became tired - chronically, heavily, depressingly tired. I’d look around and feel overwhelmed by the veil that lay over my world. I’d look within and feel defeated by the circumstances that had been heaped there without my permission. I’d look up to God and feel like he was pre-occupied with whatever was happening just over my shoulder. And maybe he was... maybe God knew that I sensed what was behind me around the curve of the road, just out of sight, but close enough for me to feel the chill of its shadow reaching out ever longer and leaving me uneasy with the darkness it cast around itself.

In last few days of 2019, I finally ran out of road. As I turned and looked back at where I had been walking, I saw the shape of the shadow that had been behind me become sharpened in the light of the glaring truth. Finally, I saw clearly what I had been sensing all along. It was a shifting figure painted with someone else’s shame and deceit. It was hard to look at... even harder as I began to comprehend exactly what it was - unfortunately familiar, something which could never be unseen.

Everybody in this world experiences undeserved pain. It rips at your heart, pounds on your head, leaves your soul shaken. In a detached yet spiritual moment, the horror reminded me that Jesus had died from such an undeserved experience. And not surprisingly, the thought was not comforting. It was more of a disruptive awareness - like a train clattering down the tracks through the night with its horn blaring, and its dirty graffiti covered cars hanging onto each other by a mere coupling.

I know other people - friends, family - who have experienced deep pain this last year, too. A husband who shockingly died in a matter of unexpected moments at work. A violent seizure disrupting a peaceful night and announcing the previously unknown presence of a brain tumor. An estranged child becoming more deeply lost to her loving mother by her own hard-hearted intention. Such pain feels like a betrayal. It is trauma at its worst, wreaking havoc with our faith and with our families. Sometimes, all we can do in those moments where life betrays us is to suffer, exposed. We want to run away from the pain, yet somehow hold on to the precious thing shrouded inside of it that’s being ripped away. Our minds are at war with our hearts. Our faith is at war with our fear.

I could probably write in a bunch of right responses here - to pain, to fear, to traumatic upheavals. But sometimes, the right response is not the one that you would think. Sometimes, you have to be wild and scream and cry and pound your fists. Sometimes, you feel so fragile, that you need to lock yourself in a room for awhile and leave everyone else outside. Sometimes, you are so confused that next right thing to do waivers and swerves like a car out of control from one side of the road to the other. Sometimes, you feel like time is standing still, but then you realize that it’s actually you who is standing still. When you look around you’re shocked to realize all around that life goes on regardless, and the reality is, you’re forced to a point to go along with it.

I think that our inability to stop time from moving is the way that healing begins. It is a both a maddening and miraculous awareness. Before the horror and pain have even ended their barrage of mayhem in your life, the details of recovery are roused and engaged. The relationships in your circle begin to shift, and those with deepest significance, with the most soulful connections, begin to rise to the surface of your life, like cream in a jar of ice cold milk that has been left undisturbed overnight in the farmer’s kitchen. Suddenly, you realize that what you viewed as God’s pre-occupation while circumstances lined up to destroy your life, was not an abandonment at all. It was a patient waiting, a carefully orchestrated plan to ensure that what was meant to harm you, would in the end be used to help you. As your messed up life became separated into the before and after of the moment you became painfully aware of the circumstances that would change things forever, God had never taken his eyes off of you. Instead, he had allowed the cream to gather and rise, and even as you staggered under the suddenly too heavy weight of your crisis, he began to redistribute the burden of it. He ladled the cream from the top of the milk and began the process of turning it into beautiful new details whose possibilities had always existed in his plan, but could only arise through the process of separation.

As God has already begun to spread out the burden of my pain onto family and friends, I have felt a shift. While the ache is still there, so there is also a relief. I think that this past year of carrying this burden alone has both strengthened and weakened me. But I think there was purpose in the waiting. As the cream gathers to the top, so God had begun to gather my relationships and my life circumstances to a place where they would be ready for this time. As I became more and more weary of my burden, I became more and more ready to share it - not an easy task for an introverted independent woman like myself. And even as I am horrified and aching from pain, I am encouraged. Because when cream is whipped  and shaken and blended with other good ingredients, it becomes part of a number of delightful new creations - new and good gifts. Creations that are served to satisfy all on their own, as well as creations that enhance the flavor of other good gifts.

So, as I contemplate the pain that has risen in me, I also am shedding the veil that had covered my world. The future is becoming a bit brighter, although my vision of it is still cloudy. I’m okay with the uncertainty of it, however. Just before the moment of horror I have recently experienced, God caught my attention with this quote... “Honor the waiting. It teaches you the beauty and ache of hope in equal measure.” The beauty and the ache are both necessary in order to experience the miracle of hope. God has shown us that truth over and over from the beginning of time. Who am I to not be willing to sit down and rest with him after the grueling process, and enjoy the sweetness that comes in a dish of ice cream? There is nothing that can take away the precious hope that remains in me because of my strong faith in the good, good love of my Father God.

“But those who trust in the Lord will find new strength. They will soar high on wings like eagles. They will run and not grow weary. They will walk and not faint.”
‭‭Isaiah‬ ‭40:31‬ ‭NLT‬‬

“Now we see things imperfectly, like puzzling reflections in a mirror, but then we will see everything with perfect clarity. All that I know now is partial and incomplete, but then I will know everything completely, just as God now knows me completely.”
‭‭1 Corinthians‬ ‭13:12‬ ‭NLT‬‬

“Share each other’s burdens, and in this way obey the law of Christ.”
‭‭Galatians‬ ‭6:2‬ ‭NLT‬‬

“They brought sleeping mats, cooking pots, serving bowls, wheat and barley, flour and roasted grain, beans, lentils, honey, butter, sheep, goats, and cheese for David and those who were with him. For they said, ‘You must all be very hungry and tired and thirsty after your long march through the wilderness.’”
‭‭2 Samuel‬ ‭17:28-29‬ ‭NLT‬‬

“Wait patiently for the Lord. Be brave and courageous. Yes, wait patiently for the Lord.”
‭‭Psalms‬ ‭27:14‬ ‭NLT‬‬

“And we know that God causes everything to work together for the good of those who love God and are called according to his purpose for them.”
‭‭Romans‬ ‭8:28‬ ‭NLT‬‬

“For the Lord is good. His unfailing love continues forever, and his faithfulness continues to each generation.”
‭‭Psalms‬ ‭100:5‬ ‭NLT‬‬

“We know how much God loves us, and we have put our trust in his love. God is love, and all who live in love live in God, and God lives in them.”
‭‭1 John‬ ‭4:16‬ ‭NLT‬‬

Love Rises

My mom and dad have what is surely the best example I know of what an enduring marriage relationship looks like. When I look at their relationship with each other, I see that the strength that holds them together is the inclusion of God. I love the quote by Tennessee Williams, "The violets in the mountains have broken the rocks." Those words paint a miraculous picture of the fragile thing overcoming the hard thing, of beauty and life surviving in the crevices of dark and difficult circumstances. I myself have experienced that marriage is not easy, especially in the face of the ongoing trauma that surrounds having a family member with extensive medical issues. My parents have experienced those circumstances in their marriage, my younger brother having been born with a rare form of muscular dystrophy that compromised his physical health and development throughout his 22 years of life. The experience of chronic trauma in our family was compounded by the additional heartbreak of my brother’s death. My parents’ response to such difficulty and sorrow always has taught me well about the paradox of suffering. They showed me that the pain of suffering brings about the gift of learning to love with no regrets, and learning to limit your focus to the most important things in life. My mom and dad’s example has helped me to understand that the very thing that feels like it is threatening to tear a family apart, can actually be a catalyst that brings deep unity to that family instead. Their example of faith has shown me that by choosing to trust God in circumstances that are unthinkably terrible, I am allowing him the opportunity to turn what seems tragic into something more beautiful than I could ever have imagined. In their marriage, my parents allowed God to carry them to places where they surely never would have chosen to go on their own. They have trusted God through many situations which anyone could not possibly choose to embrace, and which many people would even bitterly say called for resentment. Yet, here they are today, truly living in gratitude for the dark valleys they have journeyed through. Here they are today, privileged to experience a glimpse of a present and a future that is not framed by the lack of what they have lost, but rather by the love of what they have grown. I know that their love today does not exist because they have spent the last 50 years gazing at themselves, or even at each other. I know that their love exists today because over the last 50 years, they have consistently chosen together to look in the direction of God. I am so thankful for their example that the most important thing a husband and a wife can do in their marriage relationship, is to cling to love for God and for each other. My parent’s marriage and their lives are truly evidence that love will always rise when given the opportunity.

“And now these three remain: faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is love.”

‭‭1 Corinthians‬ ‭13:13‬ ‭NIV‬‬

"...I pleaded with the Lord to take it away from me. But he said to me, 'My Grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness'"

2 Corinthians 12:8b-9a NIV

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

A Ballad of Perspective

Some days I feel too much, other days I feel nothing at all. My perspective has been dark lately, and peace likewise elusive. I read an article that explained, "the give-and-take between seeing the exquisite wonder of the world beside its bleakness, is a struggle." I think that's true. I know that a huge part of my struggle with depression is not being able to stay in balance - not being able to find the place where I feel just the right amount. People say to think positively, but I find it impossible to choose to only focus on the wonders of the world, when I know the bleakness of the world exists even if I consciously look away. And as difficult as it is to allow my heart to see that bleakness, I know that it's only when both of these perspectives are woven together, that my true destiny can be accomplished. Because I want to fulfill the purpose I was created for, I mindfully hope in the goodness that will one day arise from the bleak things in life. I focus my faith on the knowledge that resiliency is possible when wonder bravely stands alongside of that struggle for hope. And I remind myself that love does not give up in the midst of suffering. Even though I often find myself behind the bleak veil of depression, I intentionally seek to find a glimpse of wonder each day. On my darkest days I compel myself to look outward and fix my gaze on one miracle. One image I've focused on lately, is the marvel of a magnificent river. God's handiwork displayed in a river has captivated my attention over and over for the last few years. On this day, as I contemplated that image, my thoughts once again melded into words that flowed from my hand to a page - words that became, this time, a poem...

GLIMPSING WONDER

I walk upon a winding trail,

I dream upon a river's flow,

divided by an unseen wale,

'tween what I feel and what I know. 

Weary of the dusty road,

rough with unexpected stones,

weary of this cumbrous load,

weighing on my mind and bones.

The river tangent to the trees,

soothing with its dulcet roll,

sings a song upon the breeze,

beckoning my restless soul.

Weary of this pitted ground,

eroded from assailing trial,

weary of the onerous sound, 

of groaning with each wending mile.

The river cantillates refrains, 

of resonating rhapsody,

enchants, allures, and sustains, 

my dream from whole fugacity.

Weary of this wretched woe,

of never ending vicissitude,

weary of the ache and throe,

of continual solicitude.

The river captivates each sigh,

weaves symphonic undersong,

assays each sorrow drawing nigh,

sings its theory never wrong.

Weariness becomes lament,

weeping melancholy's tears,

the river bank is pain's decent, 

where suffering emerges clear.

I walk upon a winding trail,

I dream a gentle river slope,

mingling thoughts in staid grisaille,

with light to find prismatic hope.

- Lora Stonelake 3/2017

"This give-and-take between seeing the exquisite wonder of the world beside it's bleakness is a struggle."

  - Lori Chandler

"It's not what you look at that matters, it's what you see."

  - Henry David Thoreau

"When you change the way you look at things, the things you look at change."

  - Max Planck

"The nearer the dawn, the darker the night."

  - Henry Wadsworth Longfellow 

"Dreams... They lift us from the commonplace of life to better things."

  - Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

"Now your attitudes and thoughts must all be constantly changing for the better."

  - Ephesians 4:23

“You will keep in perfect peace all who trust in you, all whose thoughts are fixed on you!”

 - Isaiah 26:3

 “My soul yearns for you in the night, and in the morning my spirit searches and looks out for you” 

  - Isaiah 26:9

“You, Lord, keep my lamp burning; my God turns my darkness into light.”

 - Psalm 18:28

“Yet I still dare to hope when I remember this: The faithful love of the Lord never ends! His mercies never cease. Great is his faithfulness; his mercies begin afresh each morning. I say to myself, 'The Lord is my inheritance; therefore, I will hope in him!'”

 - Lamentations 3:21-24

“Oh, that we might know the Lord! Let us press on to know him. He will respond to us as surely as the arrival of dawn or the coming of rains in early spring.”

  - Hosea 6:3

“Love never gives up, never loses faith, is always hopeful, and endures through every circumstance... Now we see things imperfectly, like puzzling reflections in a mirror, but then we will see everything with perfect clarity. All that I know now is partial and incomplete, but then I will know everything completely, just as God now knows me completely. Three things will last forever—faith, hope, and love—and the greatest of these is love.”

  - 1 Corinthians 13:7, 12-13

"God chose a very unique word to describe His peace--a river! A river is not calm and void of activity. It is active and cleansing and confident of the direction it is headed in. A river doesn't get caught up with rocks in its path. it flows over and around them, all the while smoothing their jagged edges and allowing them to add to its beauty rather than take away from it. A river is a wonderful thing to behold... To have peace like a river is to have security and tranquility while meeting the many bumps and unexpected turns on life's journey."

  - Lysa TerKeurst

"I will have peace flowing like a river."

  - Isaiah 48:18

"A river brings joy to the city of our God, the sacred home of the Most High. God dwells in that city; it cannot be destroyed. From the very break of day, God will protect it." 

  - Psalms 46:4-5

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

The Blessing of Burden

On Christmas Eve, our church usually holds two service times. This year our family chose to go to the later session, a bilingual service where the Spanish speaking and English speaking congregations of our church (which typically meet separately) came together to celebrate Christmas with traditional carols (switching between languages at each verse), relevant scripture and sharing of personal experiences (translated into both languages), and a concluding prayer time accompanied by a candle lighting ceremony involving each person present. One of my favorite Christmas hymns, Oh Holy Night, was among the carols that had been chosen for this service. It's a magnificently powerful song describing the wonder of the moment that Jesus Christ was born into this dark, oppressive world. To me, the most significant lines are the ones that describe the awe and the hope that Jesus brings to us - an awe that brings us to our knees and a hope that is possible to recognize and hang onto, even when complete weariness and impending doom seem to be upon us:

A thrill of hope the weary world rejoices for yonder breaks a new and glorious morn

Fall on your knees, O hear the angel's voices

O night divine, O night when Christ was born 

(Oh Holy Night, lyrics by: Placide Clappeau)

Another part of the service that stood out to me happened very unobtrusively during the children's sermon time. As I listened to the story being read, I noticed one of the Hispanic ministers, Pastor Loles, resting on a chair towards the back of the stage. I watched her rub her hand wearily over her round belly, stretched with the miracle of her first child living within her. A faint smile was on her face, her cheeks rosy with the heat of the stage lights. I observed her deliberately take some extra-deep breaths, and suddenly my own chest felt taut with the memories of a growing baby nestled under my ribs, competing with my lungs for room to move. As always happens at Christmas time when I regard a heavily pregnant mother, my mind wandered to thoughts of Mary carrying the precious life of the Baby Jesus within her that very first Christmas night. Without fail, my thoughts of Mary are consistently intermingled with both compassion and wonder. What an immense burden for her to be carrying in such extremely difficult circumstances... but at the same time, what a privilege she was blessed with to be sharing her own life with the life of God himself! On this Christmas Eve night the thought in my mind was this - Mary's burden was also her blessing.

MARY'S BURDEN WAS ALSO HER BLESSING!

A burden by definition is a heavy load, or something which causes hardship or distress. It's connotation is a negative one, rather than a desirable one. 

How many times in my life have I wanted to refuse a burden held out to me? How many times have I railed at God for putting an unasked for burden upon me? How many times have I felt as if I could not take one more step forward because the heaviness of a burden is more weight on my shoulders than it seems I can possibly bear? 

This past year and a half, I have struggled with the burden of depression. It is unlike any other burden I have ever encountered. It is one I have seen others carry, and one that I had told myself I never wanted to experience. I wasn't prepared for how it would slowly creep up on me... how one day I would look around and find that everything in my life seemed to shrouded by it. 

Familylife.com describes living with depression as this. "Your world is dark, heavy, and painful... depression seems to go to your very soul, affecting everything in its path." The website also states that the burden of depression affects 25% of the population. It's amazing to think that a burden that deceives me into feeling completely alone is the same burden that is experienced by over a billion other people in the world. 

For me, the perplexing thing in my struggle has been that at some point early on, I began to recognize the veil that covered me for what it was - depression. I can see it's there. I'm aware of its deception, of its intent to destroy. Yet, I continue to flounder in the presence of it in my life. I have watched in despair as some of my relationships have been strangled by the veil, and somehow I have not been able to reach beyond it to sustain them in a healthy way or, with more than a few people, to sustain them at all. Some people and situations that were once so important in my life have been lost to me, either faded away or ripped away, both experiences very painful and disorienting. Even my environment has been affected by the veil, plunging myself and those close to me into chaos and disorder and conditions that only serve to make the burden heavier, the veil more opaque.

This Christmas Eve as I considered the blessing of the burden carried by Mary, I thought about my burden and the possibility of it having potential to be paradoxically transformed into blessing. Was the terrifying situation which Mary found herself in, in any way comparable to the thorn of depression in my life?

In contrast to a burden, a blessing is a positive label - one defined as God's favor and protection, something prayed for, something for which we are grateful, something that brings well-being, or another person's support. When I think about the smothering presence of depression, it's very difficult to feel that the presence God's favor and protection can rest on me at the same time as a burden that seems so heavy and wearying. But even though my heart feels defeat, my head knows well a Bible scripture that I have read over and over, and at times I find myself holding onto it like a flotation device in the middle of a stormy sea.

“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

Another version of the Bible says, "Learn the unforced rhythms of grace." MSG

I am weary - there is no doubt - and the burden of depression is heavy. Jesus calls to me as I struggle, and because I do know his voice, I recognize it - even through my depressive veil. I know he calls to me with no judgement, no expectation, no "to do" list, no disapproval, no annoyance, no anger, no disappointment, no hidden motives. He calls me with an attitude of grace that I do not deserve, and he desires to honor me with his presence. But even though I know in my head he has already chosen me to be close to him, even though I know in my head that my life has great value to him just as I am - still in my heart I struggle with the weight of the world, and with the opinions and actions of the imperfect people in it. Feelings of rejection and inadequacy in the face of exclusion and judgement are hard to live with and yet, for some reason, they are also hard feelings to give up. Feelings of fear and helplessness relayed by news of incomprehensible violence and unimaginable cruelty are hard to lay down. Feelings of loneliness and disconnection even when I am with those closest to me are hard to look past despite the fact that I know my emotions are not always accurate indicators of the truth.

As I grappled last night once again with the choice of putting down the burdens I have picked up under my own free will, and instead holding to myself the promises that I know are true ( because I know that what God has promised is always true, despite how I feel ), some lyrics from the song Breath of Heaven, also known as simply Mary's Song, came to mind:

"I have travelled many moonless nights


Cold and weary, with a babe inside


And I wonder what I've done


Holy Father, you have come


And chosen me now
 to carry your son

I am waiting in a silent prayer


I am frightened by the load I bear


In a world as cold as stone,


Must I walk this path alone?


Be with me now
, Be with me now

Breath of heaven


Hold me together


Be forever near me


Breath of heaven




Breath of heaven


Lighten my darkness


Pour over me your holiness


For you are holy"

(Breath Of Heaven, lyrics by: Amy Grant)

Like this song portrays, I think that Mary was probably filled with feelings of doubt concerning her situation, with fear and dismay over her circumstances, with loneliness in the face of others judging and rejecting her... but I also think that Mary's faith in God and what he had promised was stronger than her desperation. The author of the song's lyrics explains, "It is a prayer that fits a lot of people's circumstances, because it is a cry for mercy." 

I am laying here now, on this early Christmas morning, glancing out the window at the grayness of the December sky. I cry for God to have mercy for me in my circumstances, to hold me together during the many times today that I'm sure to feel like falling apart for a number of reasons or for not any reason at all. And as my heart reaches out to my Savior, my head recognizes the blessing in the burden I'm carrying. The blessing comes with bringing the burden to Jesus, in exchanging it in his presence for the simplicity of being loved by him, in looking away from despair towards hope, and in the faithful expectation of waiting for the day when the veil of depression is torn forever. 

"Breath of heaven

Lighten my darkness

Pour over me your holiness

For you are holy"

"The people who walk in darkness will see a great light. For those who live in a land of deep darkness, a light will shine....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 9:2-6 NLT

Relentless

I attended a summer youth camp as a nurse a few weeks ago.  A few times that week, I was able to get away from the health center in the evening to listen to the guest speaker. One night as he talked, the speaker hushed the large audience into silence and directed each of us to wait and listen for God to whisper a word into our heart. The word that came to my mind and echoed over and over again was "relentless". It wasn't a word that had been on my mind or in my conversation that week, but the feeling that came over me as I thought about it during that moment, was almost one of familiarity. Hearing the word in my head felt confirming… like when elderly folks empathetically discuss the difficult happenings in someone else's life, nodding their heads up and down in understanding that life is not easy, and that every person is faced with their own set of struggles and disappointments as they move through one day after another.

I quietly slipped through the side door to return to my nursing duties, and was not surprised to be quickly followed by my most “frequent flier”. I greeted him affectionately, and asked if he needed something, although I suspected I knew what it was.

“The bandage came off again,” he said sheepishly, hands in his pocket

“How do you know?” I asked, looking curiously at his feet which were enclosed in both socks and shoes, just as they had been forty minutes earlier. I myself, had carefully eased the sock over his right foot, then watched as he put on and then tied the shoes I had directed him to wear instead of the flip.-flops he had been wearing throughout that day.

“Well, I had to look at it!” he said in a worried voice, anxiety clouding his deep brown eyes. “I know that stick poked into my bone. It probably has a hole in it! It’s gonna rot my foot off!”

I sighed as I thought about the 4 or 5 times I had already rebandaged a small cut under his toe where a stick had lacerated the skin a couple of hours earlier.

“Buddy,” I said as I handed him two band-aids and sat in a chair, “I promise you, it’s just a small cut in your skin, there is not a hole in your bone, and your foot is not going to rot off… it’s really not!”

He looked at me miserably, and I thought of the note his mom had given me about his struggles with worry, as well as her suggestion that I try and distract him. “Distract him?”  I thought, “I have tried to over and over, all week long! It’s been one small thing after another… some real, some imagined… but, truly, this boy is impossible to be distracted! He is relentless!”

Relentless!

Suddenly, I knew what to do, because God had whispered that word in my ear. “Hey…” I said softly to my young friend. “I’m not going to bandage up your foot anymore. I gave you those two extra bandaids and you can put one of those on it yourself if you would like to. I know that we cleaned it and put ointment on it, and I know that even though it’s a bit sore, it’s gonna heal in a few days, and you’re gonna be just fine!”

“How do you know?” he mumbled, not looking up, shuffling his feet on the floor.

“Because I do,” I said. “God made that skin on your foot to protect your bones from that stick. He made that skin so that even when it gets hurt doing it’s job, it can heal itself by making new cells and becoming strong again. I trust God! I trust that when he made you, he did a great job, and that you are going to be just fine.”

I paused and waited, my eyes on the top of his head.

Finally, he raised his gaze towards me, and his eyes filled with tears. “But I can’t stop thinking about it!”

“Well…” I said, and thought for a moment. “How ‘bout this? Every time you think about it, Buddy - that’s an opportunity to remind yourself that God is relentless in His goodness and in His faithfulness. And even if you think about it a hundred times before you go to bed tonite, that’s a hundred chances you’ll have to thank God for His goodness and His faithfulness and to ask Him for healing.”

I sat back while he contemplated my words silently. As we heard the voices of more kids coming up the sidewalk, he stuffed the bandaids in his pocket. Giving me one last puppy dog look, he disappeared out the door.

After five days of providing around the clock nursing care for hundreds of teens, I went home from that camp drained and exhausted, but in the back of my mind still, was the word that God had given me just the few nights before.

Relentless.

It made me think of the sun shining in the desert, or the ocean waves pounding against a cliff… things that are powerful, naturally driven, connected with both life and destruction.

Relentless.

I turned the word over and over in my mind, and I looked it up in the dictionary:

Relentless. /rəˈlen(t)ləs/ adjective:

oppressively constant; incessant...

I looked it up in the thesaurus:

persistent, continuing, constant, continual, continuous, non-stop, never-ending, unabating, incessant, unceasing, endless, unremitting, unrelenting, unrelieved, unfaltering, unflagging, unwavering, dogged, tenacious, single-minded, tireless, indefatigable...

Indefatigable!!! I knew as I read that particular synonym that God was not using relentless to describe me, because anyone who knows me, knows that I am without a doubt fatigable!

However, this word relentless -  it did seem to describe how I often feel about my own life circumstances, and, more-so perhaps, about the circumstances present in the world around me.

My own family lives daily with the constancy of a chronic incurable disease in our midst. We arrange ourselves - our activities, our conversations, our noise level, our holidays, our relationships… our entire lives really, around the incessant presence of pain. Our need to consider it is never-ending, and our quest to tame it is unwavering. We seem to be in a continual pursuit of balance  - not wanting to bow down to pain by sacrificing our joy, yet not wanting to instigate pain with a disregard for its latent tendency to react strongly to exuberant living. This persistent dilemma of the unknowns about the future is relentless in its attempt to steal today from us.

There are innumerable atrocious circumstances in our present reality. Every day we hear about the horrors in our own country and across the world, of what one or more humans under the influence of unimaginable evil, will do to the most pure and innocent of all people. These situations persistently, continually, constantly, continuously, never-endingly, unabatingly, incessantly, unceasingly, endlessly, unremittingly, unrelievedly, unfalteringly, unflaggingly, unwaveringly, doggedly, tenaciously, single-mindedly, tirelessly, indefatigably never ever stop pursuing destruction. They are relentless!

I began to wonder why God would whisper this discouraging word to me, why he felt a need to plant it within me when I already struggle each day to not drown in heavy laden thoughts of the hopelessness of this world.

I thought again of the relentless sun, shining hotly on the desert plain, baking the ground a full thirty degrees hotter than the stifling air above it, until it cracks into a mass of chaotic grids. I thought of the powerful ocean waves pounding relentlessly against a cliff, undercutting it with sand and water and rock, over and over and over again, steadily destroying it into pieces that crash into the water below.

As I continued over the next weeks to on and off muse over the word, a revelation finally occured to me in the middle of my antagonistic thoughts about it. Relentless, the very word that exemplifies the arduous adversity in life - this word, this very same word, also illustrates everything that my God means to me.

God is relentless in the pursuit of my heart.

God is relentless in his desire for my devotion.

God is relentless in his faithfulness to never leave me on my own,

God is relentless in keeping every single one of the  promises He has made in His Word.

C.S. Lewis said, “The great thing to remember is that, though our feelings come and go, God’s love for us does not. It is not wearied by our sins, or our indifference; and therefore, it is quite relentless…”

The Apostle Paul wrote, “And I am convinced that nothing can ever separate us from God’s love. Neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither our fears for today nor our worries about tomorrow—not even the powers of hell can separate us from God’s love.  No power in the sky above or in the earth below—indeed, nothing in all creation will ever be able to separate us from the love of God that is revealed in Christ Jesus our Lord.” (Romans 8:38)

If the same word that describes the circumstances I am surrounded with, also describes my God, then I can only conclude that God is present with me in all of these circumstances.Though the world can be horrific and each day filled with difficulty and suffering, if I walk through the desert in the presence of God, He will be relentless in using what otherwise would steal and to destroy anything good in me, to instead give me life, and to give it to me abundantly. A relentless life is a blessing, not because I avoid the hard things or because I am blind to reality, but because I can walk through the midst of it all with God, and in His presence find peace instead of resentment, calmness instead of anger, patience instead of frustration, and love instead of hatred.

God created the sun to light up the world and nourish His living creation - the same sun that burns, brings life. He created the waves to carry life in the sea, to carry life to the shore - the same waves that crash, carry life.

I think that I finally understand the intention of God in placing that word in my mind one month ago. He was reminding me of who He is, of what He wants, and of His promises to me. He knows that in my humanness, I struggle more often than not, to appreciate and embrace - or at times, to even just tolerate the relentless life I live in. He gave me the gift of a word to remind me to have hope in His faithfulness and to wait for His joy.

The morning after that chapel service at youth camp, as I unlocked the door to the health center, my buddy was standing there waiting for me. I smiled and invited him in, wondering how he had fared through the night with his worry.

“Umm, can I have another bandaid?” he asked, a bit sheepishly.

I held one out to him silently, a questioning grin on my face, I’m sure.

“I know God is going to heal it,” he said confidently, then gave me a sideways look. “I know He is... even though I still think my bone is rotting… even though my foot might fall off.” His confidence waned. “Maybe I should go to the doctor when I get home?” he asked uncertainly.

With a sigh, I pulled out a chair and motioned him to sit down. “C’mon then buddy, take off your shoe and let’s have a look, and let’s go over this again…”

Relentless...

" I’ll never forget the trouble, the utter lostness,

   the taste of ashes, the poison I’ve swallowed.

I remember it all—oh, how well I remember—

   the feeling of hitting the bottom.

But there’s one other thing I remember,

   and remembering, I keep a grip on hope:

God’s loyal love couldn’t have run out,

   his merciful love couldn’t have dried up.

They’re created new every morning.

   How great your faithfulness!

I’m sticking with God (I say it over and over).

   He’s all I’ve got left.

God proves to be good to the man who passionately waits,

   to the woman who diligently seeks.

It’s a good thing to quietly hope,

   quietly hope for help from God."

(Lamentations 3:19-26, The Message Bible)

“And we know that all things work together for good to them that love God, to them who are the called according to his purpose.”   (Romans 8:28, KJV)

“The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy; I have come that they may have life, and have it to the full,”

(John 10:10 NIV)

“Sustain me according to your promise, and I will live; do not let my hope be crushed." 
(Psalm 119:116)