What I was in for

I was not prepared. I was not prepared to lose all sense of who I am for so many years or doubt every decision so completely that I gave up making choices entirely. I couldn't have imagined how intricately I would begin to criticize every human being's behaviors, including my own, and the height of standards I'd expect around children who notice everything and nothing like flipping an invisible switch. I was caught off guard by the mental water torture at the close of each day where every drop highlighted a short coming in the last 12 hours to the point that a once quite confident, borderline arrogant, woman would consider checking willingly in at the nearest mental facility. I was shaken to wake up years down the road and, looking back,  see the depression only after regaining some semblance of emotional stability. 

I had no idea, pre-motherhood, that when I judged a parent, based on their toddler's behavior, she was blaming herself as well and had no idea what to do having exhausted the gamut of sage advice and paperback solutions which all fail because three year-olds are innately insubordinate, boundary obliterating geniuses. I was also shocked at the vast ocean of competitive mother's and childless do gooder's opinions and unsolicited advice I'd have to stoically swallow for each "behavior" my little learning human would temporarily test. I could never have seen what I was in for and if I had, I wouldn't have chosen parenthood.

 Then, I'd have missed out on what what can only be considered insanity because that hardship is probably the biggest accomplishment into which I will ever unknowingly step. My kids have made me angrier, more helpless, violently humbled, and broken than any experience could have and in so doing, also forged within me a bigger portion of  strength, bravery, happiness, self assurance, and fulfillment than I could have found without them. In fact, before children I had no clue, even in the meeting of my husband, what love REALLY is. Because of these lessons, I am a better wife and friend since I know what suffering for those you love means. If you can endure screaming, stomping, smashing, embarrassing, unrelenting, selfishness for days on end and hover over their peacefully sleeping bodies willing to love and hold and kiss and provide for them again day after day you can handle most anything anyone else does to you - just as long as no one does anything to THEM!

A lovely place, indeed.

I want to speak to you of love, because that is the only thing worth the vast expanse of time and the short portion of this life that is mine. I have bonded to Christ in the Song of Solomon way. Instead of doubting His affection, I know it well and where once before I ran away, being frightened of the demands of that bond, I now run toward Him. Even on hard days. Even the ones in which I am angry at God. I will not pretend to agree or remain pleased about everything for He knows my mind and it is changing slowly, but for love's sake I will continue our eternal walk enamored.

You see, before I fell head over heels for my dearest and we became inseparable, I was unwilling to compromise. Our flesh yearns after selfish things because before we find true love, we only love ourselves. But the person who has found undeserved kindness and trust and a patient, lifelong, loving partner WILL yearn to please them. Trust me, when you find the Christ for whom the prostitute was willing to place her lips along His mud streaked feet, you will WANT to make changes for His pleasure.

The body of Christ is like a friend who knows your perfect companion and, because they think fondly of you and wish to see you live your fullest, most glorious life, will go out of their way to set you up on a date. They introduce you to a kindness, a comfort, a security so beautiful it is indescribable. So with bated breath and scarce held joy they wait for love to bloom upon your meeting. With great anticipation they fondly recall the chapters of their own romance in hopes that soon your eyes will also glisten with a contentedness it could never have known otherwise.

Isn't that lovely? Isn't that as it should be? Where then are our fond friends and patient, happy conspirators? Somehow, I believe most have turned bullies ringed around and throwing rocks at the weak kid in class. I am watching the would be bride run headlong in terror from the suitor the mob represents because rather than familiar friends, the pillars of religion are behaving like a pimp's enforcers dragging their master's new conquests into enslavement with beatings and hate filled scare tactics.

Was that harsh? Over the top? Ghastly and frightening and wrath conducing? Have you now the rocks in your hands for me as well?

Love is like a painting. The artist carefully envisions all the wonders they wish to capture. They choose a color palette with the hopes that the finished piece will somehow allow onlookers to feel even a small portion of the limitless fount of inexpressible affection radiating from their own heart. Then, they set to work. The sun and moon cease to be markers of time, each stroke an expression of emotion so deep and full. The artist's hopes, fears, wrestlings of spirit secretly hidden beneath layers of paint soon emerge into a glorious work of art. Our relationship with the living God is much like this work of art. You may look upon mine and be inspired but you will never know the true beauty held therein until you hold the brush in your own hand.

You can stand and critique all the aspects of my painting, submitting my most sincere and personal journey to your philosophy, upbringing, and interpretation of biblical knowledge of good and evil. You can watch my love and I muddy our shoes along the roads of our finding each other out and listen in to the public conversations between us sharing your bag of apples among your circle of well polished, agreeable colleagues. Occasionally, you can come to the conclusion that a representative of your crew should chuck a well meaning rock at me under a sadly veiled guise of love to prevent me from some pitfall you've divined in my future and then return to your safe circle nodding in unison about how it wasn't cruel if it was for my own good and widely agreed upon. But I implore you to STOP watching about like a socially accepted collection of stalkers and loose yourself in your own painting, in your own journey, in your own truest love! Only in that way will you win admirers to the suitor you represent.

Were the gallery of life full of such paintings wouldn't the world be a lovely place, indeed?

Who am I? Seriously, who?

If I wake from a coma and no one is there to remind me who I am, how will I know which car in the parking lot belongs to me, which home is mine to enter? How will I know what is mine to use or give away or what profession I hold and to which boss and authority I answer? What if I was a vile human being before but I wake up not remembering that with a chance at being someone else? I have the choice to believe and accept the life from before or abandon all and start anew. When I was saved, it was like being woken from that coma and I turned to God, to the Bible, to tell me who I am. Forget who I was before. Forget who ruled over me before.

Who am I now? Seriously, who? I believe in God. I believe that Christ is my savior but what does that mean for me? Do I have a life of come what may, in which I am subject to evil in and around me as before, powerless only to hold on for death until I can be with God, promised only a life with Him AFTER this life is over? Or have I died already and woken up into a life of power, abundance, blessing, and authority over evil? If I am dead and Christ is alive in me, then whose power do I have? Whose authority have I been given? Not to say things won’t be infinitely different when we are spirit alone, but I am not there yet and, therefore, unconcerned because it will come in its time and my place is secured. I AM however, concerned as to the point of my current existence and the tools which I have been given. If I do not know who I am, how can I be who God intended me to be when He formed me in the womb, when He put a destiny in me for His kingdom,  predestined me to be conformed to the image of His Son (Ps 139:13 &16, Romans 8:29)?

Christ is my gateway to holiness (Col 1:22), perfection forever (Heb 10:14), the righteousness of God (Rom 3:22), power and authority in the earth (Luke 9:1).  I believe that Christ extends the spirit He bestowed upon His disciples to me as well, being one. Christ is as a man taking a far journey, who left his house, and gave his work and authority to me (Mark 13:34). I am adopted to sonship, heirs of God and co-heirs with Christ (Romans 8:15-17).  His seal is on my head, no other! (2 Cor 1:22) I do not live in the realm of the flesh but in the realm of the Spirit (Romans 8:9). The Spirit God gave me does not make me timid, but gives me power, love and self-discipline (2 Timothy 1:7).

I have overcome the evil one and (2 Cor 5:13) I can extinguish all his flaming arrows. (Eph 6:16) Not that the ruler of the air wasn’t able to come against me before I knew Christ, it’s just that he cannot now for I am seated in heavenly places (Eph 2:1-6). Satan was cast out of heaven and Christ gave me the ability to overcome all the power of the enemy (Luke 10:18 &19).  He still wanders about seeking to devour but I’m entirely capable of resisting (1 Peter 5). If I resist, he will flee (James 4:7). Furthermore, I am tempted by my own evil desire and enticed (james 1:14). But no temptation has overtaken me that is not common to man. God is faithful, and he will not let me be tempted beyond my ability (1 Cor 10:13). I am powerful, full of power, not weakness (2 Timothy 1:6). It’s my job to fan into flame the gift of God, and live up to what I have attained (Phil 3:16).

 Paul admits not having reached it yet but continues to strive heavenward. Choose as you may to believe these things attainable only after death only when you reach the fullness of heaven separate from our earthly bodies. Or choose to embrace the possibility of reaching such goals during life, having believed that heaven is at hand now and we are seated in holy places with Christ currently. It’s your choice. Be it to me as I believe for faith was and is ALWAYS the key to spiritual gifts, revelations, and healing. Those in the wilderness died there for lack of faith. I would rather press on to a promised land in this very life. (2 Peter 1:4) I would rather participate in the divine nature, having escaped the corruption in the world caused by evil desires. I will try as hard as I may to possess the qualities that will keep me from being ineffective and unproductive in my knowledge of Christ. Most importantly, if I know who I am and who I’m meant to be, then I know what power I have, what hope I have, how great I am intended to become.

We have all been given a choice, and in making that choice head down a path. Only, that is not the end of our choosing.  Those who have chosen Christ walk toward the same end goal, but it is still up to us to choose the tools we carry and the toolbox is open to us all. Our way can be joyous or mournful, we can become strong or weak, we are able to let the enemy in or keep him out. We may display patience or impatience, gratitude or selfishness, love or hate, forgiveness or grudges, peace or wrath, self control or lack thereof. We can put on our armor or cast it off. As Christians we still have many, many choices to make.

the daises need to stop wishing they were roses

No one's life is perfect.We hear that all the time. We hear it so much it's just one of those meaningless things we say like, "tomorrow's another day". We know as they escape our mouths that it was just noise, just a thing to say to fill the uncomfortable sorrow, just a wishful thought devoid of hope and meant as a mild excuse for all our countless daily shortcomings. We shouldn't be arrogant, or selfish, or conceited but we have taken that WAY too far, to the point, almost, of self hatred and abuse.

When does it all get to be OK? It's ok we went to bed with a sink full of dishes because we were having a family day at the park. It's ok the kids went to school dirty from yesterday when we worked in the yard all evening and were too tired when the meltdowns started to mop an entire bathroom after the bath time deluge. It's ok my kids ARE neat and tidy and I'm really good at organizing and scheduling and cleaning.  It's ok we didn't have kids at all. It's ok I work as a janitor and go fishing on the weekends. It's ok I rock my white collar job and never want to step foot outdoors at all.  It's ok I don't care about politics or Monsanto, or what sale is where. It's ok I like to boycott loads of things on principle. It's ok I HATE crafting. It's ok sometimes I'm sad, or mad, or feel a little melancholy for no reason. It's ok I'm always pretty happy. It's ok I have what they call ADHD and I don't see it as a defect at all. In fact, really actually LIKE my brain all sped up and bouncy without meds.

There aren't enough hours in the day. There's another one that suggests we fail at time management, at seizing the day, at life, but would that help? REALLY? How super-person do we need to be? The kids are loved. Some work got done, some family time spent together.  When will what we DO become ENOUGH? Who will teach us how to live our lives with contentment because we LIVED our lives, together? We made a GREAT run of the day and, yeah, we skipped a few hurdles and wrestled with our emotions but, all in all, the day was full. Not FAILED.

The older I get, the more humanity's plight breaks my heart. We live like husks of people. Blowing to and fro on a wind of rush, rush, rush and in the breezes of better, better, better. We pass on to our kids and our friends the idea that we are failures when they look up to us as their everything. Ok, so any kid past five or so decides the world should be THEIR way and we parents are in THEIR way, but come the hurts, the questions, the fears, and delights to whom do they run to share them? We teach everyone that no matter how hard they work or how much they achieve, it will NEVER measure up.

Just who are we measuring, anyway? We have to be Martha Stewart, Gordon Ramsey, an astrophysicist, coupon mom (or dad) of the year, Bill Gates, that super spunky soccer parent, the foremost authority on everything, a successful career person, homemaker extraordinaire, and Jesus all rolled into one.  And that is what we teach our kids they need to become if they want to be good at life, but we tell them that they are great how they are. They know what you really mean: I have to be better, better at everything, and you will be enough, maybe, probably not. No, you'll never be enough.

Not to say we shouldn't have goals and aspire to greatness, but seriously, we ARE pretty awesome already. LIFE is pretty awesome, even when it's sad. Accept your strengths without embarrassment because GOD gave them to you, it wasn't really any credit to you alone anyway. It's ok to be GREAT at things. Let your weaknesses be ok, too, because we are all a different part of a whole body and we were built to be great at some things and utter junk at others. Why? Because other people were made to be awesome at that other stuff. Not to SHAME you but just to live with variety, with spice, with individuality and wholeness! 

You need a bunch of different flowers to make a bouquet. We can't all be daisies and we can't all be roses and the daises need to stop wishing they were roses and realize that some of us prefer daisies anyway (and some don't). In the realm of flowers I fancy myself a milk thistle. It's sharp and wild and horrible for gardens, unfriendly for picking, and not at all meant to be in a bouquet, but draws butterflies and has a deep, deep root. What kind of person are you? Can that just be ok and, most times, even GREAT?

like a homeless child in a strange city

When I was 15, I gave myself a tattoo. I scorched a needle with a lighter and dipped it into my brother's "borrowed" bottle of India ink and marked myself with my first love's initials. Recklessly and with full abandon, I made a poor choice. Isn't that usually the way? These days I find myself contemplating a new one, something suitable to cover my mistake. I'd rather not have made it, like so many others, so many worse. 

Sometimes I wonder how we can look at people in the midst of their mistakes and judge them for it. Somehow their poor life choices or attitudes suddenly become the basis by which we decide just how much sympathy they are worth and how much kindness we will offer.  Sadly, we withhold the very love that God offers so freely to us all in our brokenness. He aches over them and mourns for their return to safety, return to Him. He grieves their loss while we condemn them. How long ago was it that we ourselves perfected our own behavior? For whom has Christ come, the righteous or the sinners?

Underneath the blinding brightness that covers our sins is a righteousness of filthy rags yet we would pretend to be more than our brothers lost yet in their suffering. Why would we not extend the hand of mercy when we know how similar we are and realize that we walk with our best friend while they stumble alone? 

God alone knows how many more failures it will take before they choose to walk with Him. It may be tomorrow. It may be the end of their life. Perhaps, I shudder to think, it may not come at all and the frivolous pleasures of this life are all the joy they will ever know. How devastating! Does that not feed our compassion and assuage our fire for judgement?

In all our church attendance, all our serving, all our pleas for our own guidance, knowledge, healing, growth, in all our sacrifice how can we harden our hearts to the very ones God has called us to love? How many times should we forgive our brother? Often the ones we judge most harshly sit right beside us in the pews. If someone hits us in the face, the Bible says to let them have another go. So how can we who call ourselves His, look with such disdain on those who are only hurting themselves far worse than anything they could possibly do to us?

Matthew 9:12-13 “It is not the healthy who need a doctor, but the sick. But go and learn what this means: ‘I desire mercy, not sacrifice.' For I have not come to call the righteous, but sinners.”

Just because our sins without Christ were committed years ago and now we sin with the knowledge that He makes us clean, does that permit us to abuse those who are currently sinful and alone? I have done so much wrong I could NEVER atone for my own mistakes so why would I expect anyone else to be able to do that for themselves? I am so thankful to be a new person and my heart is so broken for those who haven't made it yet that I feel no anger at their position but pity, instead.

I imagine I can grow closer to God, more favored, by sacrificing my life and deeds to Him. I used to think that because I was His and chose His ways, wore myself out doing good deeds in His name, He would love me more but now I see I was wrong. Just as a mother, whose son is in jail, has lost no love for her child but is full of anger and pain and longing for his future, so too is the Father for His lost children and so too should we be for our wayward brothers and sisters. 

I have decided to cover my past ink laden mistake with one simple word: Mercy. Then I will always be reminded to offer that above my sacrifice, to everyone. I cannot atone for my own sins with my actions, however changed, improved they may be. Neither can the currently lost find redemption by cleaning up and playing church. It is God given and we are all as worthy, the currently saved, as those who do not yet walk with Him or those who are falling away. The only difference is, we have found our true love, our best friend, our home, while they flounder alone like a homeless child in a strange city and we throw rocks.......

End the Bout and Retire

I lost myself. Somewhere in the giving of my body to pregnancy, every dream to the desires of my husband, every second to the needs of my children, and the stray moments of cultivating a life of philanthropy, I feel I've nearly ceased to exist.

I've read one book in 3 years. One book for sheer pleasure, not spiritual devotion, not education, not children's tales. I miss reading. 

I miss quiet, thoughtless moments. Even in the few hours after the kids have gone to sleep my head is full of this barrage of planning, criticizing, questioning, agonizing, processing, frustrating. Even letting it go, whatever the IT may be, is like diving into a dog fight and wresting one animal from another.

I have FOUGHT a momentous battle in myself. I KNOW "we do not wage war as the world does. The weapons we fight with are not the weapons of the world. On the contrary, they have divine power to demolish strongholds. We demolish arguments and every pretension that sets itself up against the knowledge of God, and we take captive every thought to make it obedient to Christ." (2 Cor 10:3-5) I fight against my OWN mind. 

I KNOW "Whoever wants to be my disciple must deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me. For whoever wants to save their life will lose it, but whoever loses their life for me will find it" (Matthew 16:24-25) But I have not done it willingly and, at times, have even been bitter over such a calling. "Each man should give what he has decided in his heart to give, not reluctantly or under compulsion, for God loves a cheerful giver." (2 Cor 9:7)

The Bible tells me He will give me peace, that His burden is light. Mine is VERY heavy, but I don't know how to put it down. It seems a great mental effort to let a thing go and even then it is truly not released for it springs again to my mind, later, and later, and again. I want to hold on to my books, my crafts, my dreams, my plans, my desires but the time for those things is consumed by the needs of those around me. 

The world would advise "me" time. I know it's NEVER enough. I have taken such time and am even more loath to return to my duties then I was before I lavished an hour or two on my own indulgences. Nowhere, that I have found, is this encouraged in the Bible. To be honest I find no respite in it either, there's a constant pulling toward duty that keeps me from enjoying it.

I feel I give almost my all to everyone. I have a few expectations. I have recently been emotionally shattered and, I feel, financially cheated. I am told, it seems, by people that expectations deserve such demise, as though I am at fault for believing people should be more thoughtful. In any case, I am advised to "pray for those who mistreat you. If someone slaps you on one cheek, turn to them the other also. If someone takes your coat, do not withhold your shirt from them. Give to everyone who asks you, and if anyone takes what belongs to you, do not demand it back." (Luke 6:28-30)

I have carried, drug, wrestled, and been defeated by a gaping hole called UNFULFILLED my whole life, not without warrant, mind you, but even the most easy, stable, and perfectly functional life has its pitfalls. Though it be a large thing that trip me and a small slight that trip you, we are both on our face in the dirt. The point is, I want to detach myself from my emotions and lose myself to others with no regard how they treat me. I want to do what I should DESPITE them all and devoid of bitterness. I want to call the constant boxing match between my duties and desires in favor of obligations, end the bout, and retire. 

Somehow I think when Jesus said, "Greater love has no one than this: to lay down one’s life for one’s friends." (John 15:13) he wasn't only foreshadowing His death and speaking of diving in front of a bullet. He was telling us to forgo ourselves, our personality, desires, longings, loves, sometimes even dreams, for the sake of everyone else and especially God. How do I get THERE?

Beat the human out....

As usual, I have been struggling a LOT. When the Bible describes us travailing in birth pains until our son ship is manifest (Romans 8:22). I know EXACTLY what that means. It seems the fruit of the spirit does not come easily to me at all. I am rebellious, sadly. I buck everything and when I KNOW I should think, feel, act differently than I do, the wrestling match begins. I have to beat the, well, human, out of myself. It doesn't go peaceably.

Raising children is an insurmountable task for me.  I need to be more than I am so that I can teach them the proper things. I don't want them to struggle with the same issues spiritually. Believing, as I do, that God is true and He deserves praise, worship, loyalty, and love from every living thing, it is then my duty to help them along this path so they achieve more in it than I ever could. It is my goal to be their ladder, or really to let Christ work through me so that He is their ladder. This means that I cannot do what I want. I am in doubt. I do not know how to be more than I am. I do not have a childhood bank of object lessons from which to pull. So I pray because God must show me how to be the right parent, how to attain and exude His glory, not my own.

I struggle with contentment, envy, and, as I mentioned, authority. Knowing God and that His will is the same as my own in conquering these foes for Him I trust my prayers will be answered and my enemies put under my feet, not without diligence and sacrifice on my part. I have been asking how to be content for quite a while. I want to be a Godly wife, not just a good one. That's hard. It's self-sacrificing. It means I come last.

So while the kids were down for a nap and I wanted to watch tv, I found myself griping about wasting those precious and limited minutes loading the washer and the wood stove and putting on dinner instead. And suddenly as well as finally, He spoke to me. I was carrying a armload of wood to the fire stoking my own flames of neglected desire in the process and suddenly the thought was whispered, "Be thankful for this wood." 

That rough, heavy, daily chore became a blessing. I am warm. I am able bodied. The loading and starting of the washer, no longer a chore. I am not huddled in a doorway with too few clothes shivering my life away with no hope of help or love or kindness. But some are.

I know we know this. At odd times in driving or praying or eating or teaching our kids we say, "Kids in Africa would be glad for this." Truth be told there are people in your very town that would, too. But then we forget. We get mad about lines at school, about policies at work, about the dishes, the laundry, the never-ending honey-do list. These chores MUST be accomplished, most daily. God, help me, help us all, always see them as the blessing they are and forget instead to be frustrated.

As I was heading up from the basement where the wood stove and washer are to put on supper, Mathew 13:12 came to me: "Whoever has will be given more, and he will have an abundance. Whoever does not have, even what he has will be taken from him." I don't think I really ever understood this verse before now. In a spiritual light my peace and joy stand to be taken and my gifts in life will become a burden. If I can be thankful for my duties and in them find blessing, I will have joy added to my action but if I hold on to the frustration, the task becomes arduous and all goodness is then taken from it.