On Writing Conversations with God

I love Jesus Calling by Sarah Young.

The story behind Jesus Calling is that Sarah, a missionary, began filling her journals with what she felt God was saying to her.  Many years later, excerpts from those words from God where compiled into this and other devotionals, and read as though God is speaking directly to the reader.  I'm convinced that sometimes He is.

More than a year ago, our pastor taught on Sabbath.  About taking time to stop normal, and rest, play, and be with God.  Not just to talk to Him, or even study His Word, but to be with Him.  And that involves hearing from Him.  Listening.  Letting Him speak into our lives, into whatever is on our hearts.

Intrigued by Sarah's words from God, and challenged by Pastor Don's teaching, I decided to try something new during my time with God sometimes.  I decided to try to journal not only my words to God, but His words to me.

I know it might sound a little iffy--a little risky--to attempt to write down what God would say.  I mean...cmon...who am I to think I know His words?  Yet, He speaks.  And I've found this practice very meaningful.  It seems that God meets me there.  In the writing down, there seems to be greater clarity.  I write quickly and try not to analzye too much as I'm writing, or else my dumb brain just gets in the way.  I go back and reread the conversation...and the insights have been, at times, incredible.  (Of course, anything that would be counter to scriptural truth would be dismissed quickly--but that hasn't happened so far.)

At the risk of you thinking I'm a total-fruitcake, I thought about sharing one of the conversations with you all here...but they are all so personal, I'm not sure they would mean much to anyone but me.  In fact, I've just glanced back at my journal from the last year looking for something I could share that doesn't include all kinds of details that would need explanation, or shouldn't be shared here.  I did find one of my very first written conversations from a year ago, written during one of my sitting-in-the-car-at-soccer-practice quiet times. It kind of made me chuckle at the "clunkiness" of it.  Here is the beginning:

So I'm sitting here
in my car
unsure if You have something to say
time with You goes quickly, so I want to treasure it,
but I grow impatient--waiting for You to speak.
                            Then stop talking.
I did.  I waited!
                            Only for a few seconds.
It's weird to me to sit and do nothing.
                             I know.  But I need you to slow down so your brain can be at a
                             wavelength to hear Me.
OK. I'll wait here with unfocused thoughts.  And shut up.  And even if all you have to say is "glad you are here" that is fine.

As I continue reading in my journal I see that I did sit and wait that day.  And rather than continue the conversation, God gave me a picture.  I saw myself sitting at His feet with my head in His lap.  (God's lap!  wow.)  And God was stroking my hair.  (How intimate!).  I don't usually like people stroking my hair, cause their fingers get caught in my curls and kind of pull on it.  Yet, God was stroking my hair and I liked it.  I imagined Him having the same difficulty with my curls and I felt bad about it.  He said to me at that moment, "I gave you these curls".  And I imagined My Lord smiling.

OK, so that was not the life instruction I thought I'd hear that day.  Instead God just wanted me to know how much He treasures time with me.  How much He loves me.  Just the way I am.

Wow, right?

Perhaps that wasn't the best example of the sometimes-long conversations God and I have in my journal, cause it turned into a mental picture with a simple message.  Regardless, you get a glimpse in the beginning of how I write the conversation down as it's happening.  And it is not unusual for God to speak words of love and reassurance to my heart.  I figure He'd use those opportunities to tell me how I need to change and which way to go (He does that too) but more often than not He seems to want to reassure me of His love.

Give it a try!  Talking to God in written form slows the whole thing down--cause writing is a bit more laborious than just thinking, but I don't think the slow is bad.  And, I like being able to go back and read our conversations later.

How thankful I am that we have a God that wants to be with us and wants to speak with us.  It doesn't really matter if we write it or draw it, or even sing it.  What matters is that we go to Him.  And we listen.

I hope you carve some time to listen today.

she must be dancing...

I didn't know Sara personally.  I mean, sure, we communicated back and forth a wee bit through blogs and comments and email--but she was sweet that way--always taking the time to keep the conversation her blog posts prompted going.

Nope, I didn't really know her.  But she taught me in the way a friend does.  She taught me by her gentle words, by her example, and by her perspective.  I couldn't begin to understand her life.  You see, Sara was severely debilitated by chronic illness--in constant pain, had limited movement, and was isolated due to the fact that she could rarely have visitors and could not leave her home--or go outside or even open a window.  However, she created community on the internet, and she chose joy.

I first met Sara (known as Gitz) when she guest posted here (totally worth the read).  I knew I loved her right away and spent hours reading her story on her blog.  She mostly posted about other things...and I learned quickly her illness did not define her.  I also learned how no matter what your circumstances are, you can choose how you live...how you see things.  She influenced countless people--even though she met few of them--and I'm glad I am one of them.

On Saturday, Sara's illness ushered her into Jesus' arms.  I knew the end was near, but reading the words made it so final.  At first, I was tempted to be sad.  But then I tried to picture (even though I can't) what Sara is experiencing right now.  And all I could think of is that she must be dancing. And singing.  And she no longer had to "choose joy" (her earthly motto).   Instead she must be consumed with Joy...no choosing needed.

Nope, I didn't know her, but she has left her joyful mark on my soul.  Dance on, sweet one, to the tune of your Savior's words, "well done, good and faithful servant".

Click here if you would like to read more tributes to Gitz.

ten years.

(I first wrote this in 2009, but wanted to share it again.  I can't believe it's been 10 years since that day.)

Last night, Bubba innocently asked me,

"Mom, what is the big deal about 9/11 anyway?"

How do you answer that? He was an infant at the time and has grown up in the post 9/11 world. So as I tried to explain it to him...I remembered once again:

waking up that morning thinking it was a regular day

seeing the second plane hit as we watched the TV and realizing this was not an accident

the jaw-dropping shock that we were "under attack"

the feeling of confusion as events unfurled

yelling OHNO! as my car radio announced the first tower fell as we drove to school

dropping off my daughter at kindergarten and wondering if I was nuts to leave her somewhere other than home that day.

meeting a mom in the kindergarten line who hadn't heard what was happening and telling her

meeting another mom who was trying to keep it together in front of her kids because her husband was at the pentagon and she hadn't heard from him yet

seeing people at school in tears

the overwhelming feeling of vulnerability

the need to call everyone I loved

the amazing footage and images

being glued to the TV for days and days

the connection I felt to my New York heritage

the heartbreak of seeing all the flyers posted of people looking for loved ones

my daughter asking that afternoon if we could please watch something else...

the patriotism I saw demonstrated all around me

the patriotism I felt (maybe for the first time)

the flags...everywhere

being moved by the inspiring story of those who crashed their own plane in PA to save others

feeling so angry that there were those who thought of this plan and were able to carry it out

the lingering feeling that we are not as safe in America as we thought we were...

feeling SO grateful for the service of firefighters, police officers, good samaritans and our military

wishing I could do more...

I am remembering all of that and then some today. I try to explain it to my kids. They can understand the facts--but the feelings of it all are hard to pass on. I'm realizing now why former generations can be frustrated why we don't "understand" the Great Depression, the country-wide war effort during WWII, the emotions of the Vietnam War crisis...we get the facts, but it's hard to feel it. We are the on the other side of it all.

My kids live on the other side of 9/11.

Something's brewing...

Nope.  It's not coffee.  I am the socially-handicapped one who doesn't like coffee, remember?

Something is brewing in me.  I don't know what it is, but it's Good.  I feel like I'm on the verge of something God wants to do in me.

artwork by bubba 2010

I can tell.  Emotions have been raw.  Situations have been frustrating.  My heart has been tenderized.  I am seeing more clearly my need for healing, my need for a Savior.  I see my ungratefulness, my sin.  And I see His Love.  His personal, I know just what you really need, Love.

He is calling me forward--somewhere deeper, somewhere new.  He's (thankfully!) not done with me yet. He is sending me situations where I have no choice but to trust and lean.  He is sending me listening ears to help me process.  He has been speaking to me through others, through books that are finding their way to my lap almost haphazardly, and through the quiet and reflection I find myself drawn to.

It's a little unsettling, I must admit.  I feel vulnerable emotionally right now, like I'm walking the edge of a cliff.   I am asking Him to help me not close off my heart in an attempt to be safe.  I need to stay open to what He is doing, continue to walk along the edge.  I also need to keep coming to Him--not let busyness distract me from what's He doing.

I honestly don't know where He's taking me, but I feel His gentle hand guiding me, little by little, somewhere.  I feel Hope.  I really think something Good is brewing...

Do you ever feel like that?  On the verge of something?  I'd love to hear your thoughts.

Here's what I'm claiming...join me.

on waiting...

As I woke this morning, some of my first thoughts were with my two friends about to give birth any day now.  Did either of them go into labor during the night?  A quick glance at my phone and computer confirmed that they were both still pregnant.

Becky's little boy was due on Tuesday.  She waits.  Lynette has had some preterm labor with her twins...and is on bedrest.  If they are able to make it another week or so, they shouldn't even require a stay in the NICU.  She waits.  Seemingly ready to explode, these two dear women are walking time bombs.  I remember the feeling well.

I reflect on waiting.  I am in a season of waiting as well.  Waiting for my husband's deliverance from the back pain that has rocked his world (and ours).  And I thought--well, at least they are waiting expectantly.  The waiting will come to an end, and the reward will be more than worth the wait.  And I envied that expectancy a little...

Then He gently spoke to my heart.  "You can wait expectantly too.  I am here.  I haven't forgotten.  My plan is in motion.  My Big-G-Good plan."  So in faith, I grab that expectancy, that even when there is temptation to despair--I know the Truth.  We are not consumed.  He who has begun a g(G)ood work in us will bring it to completion.  Even now He is acting.

I remember a small book by Henri Nouwen about waiting I read during a scary time of my life.  I don't remember much about it other than the important concept that waiting is active--not passive.  Waiting takes energy, it takes focus, it takes faith.  To actively wait on God is a choice.  A choice to call to my mind God's goodness, as Jeremiah did in Lamentations 3: 21-23.  (studied this in Bible Study this morning...)

Yet this I call to mind
   and therefore I have hope:

Because of the LORD’s great love we are not consumed,
   for his compassions never fail. 

They are new every morning;
   great is your faithfulness.

I don't know what waiting season you might be in...but will you join me in choosing to actively wait on God, expectantly knowing that what comes from His love is Good?

you are what you eat--a journey

If you are what you eat, then I have often resembled a bag of peanut m and m's with a diet coke on the side.   (I call that my breakfast of champions.)

me.

I have (obviously) not been one of  those "healthy" people.   I always thought those people were a little extreme and needed to relax a little.  Let your kid have a happy meal.  Eat the cupcake.  Don't obsess.  Stop drinking vegetables and seaweed and pretending you like it.

Well, life lately has me eating my words.  Something has happened over here in the food department since Christmas.  I didn't plan it, but we've totally altered the way we eat and think about food.  Let me see if I can describe the way a candy-as-a-food-group girl has changed her ways.  My boss likes to talk about "data points" that get filed away...here are some of mine.

Years ago, Pickle was struggling with school, sleep and life.  We were at our wit's end, as was she.  Through the grace of God, and the strong influence of my mom, we consulted a nutritional/educational consultant.  This woman spent an entire day with us and came up with a plan for Pickle that included some therapy to help her "educational glitches" as well as many nutritional changes, including multiple supplements to treat low seratonin.  It was during this time that I started reading labels and realized how much sugar was in EVERYTHING.  Pickle was significantly helped by the regimen--and although we eventually fell off the no-sugar wagon--we were amazed to learn how food makes such a marked difference.  Data point.

Hubby has been frustrated with the many meds he takes to manage depression and ADD and we started researching natural ways to treat mental health issues.  We poured through tons of information, bought a book or two... and became overwhelmed.  Yet, we felt like we were on to something to explore in the future. Data point.

I gained weight.  Weight has not been a major issue for me (aside from the eat-to-stay-awake college years) and so it came by surprise when 15 pounds arrived and my normal "eat a few less m and m's" plan didn't touch it.  Hello middle age.  Blech.  After lamenting a bit, I followed the weight watchers plan that has worked for my mom and sis.   Guess what?  I was reading labels again.  I was choosing higher fiber, higher protein foods and way less sugar.  And, I lost the weight.   More importantly, I felt a ton better.  More energy.  I wasn't riding the sugar roller coaster every afternoon.  I felt more satisfied.  Hmmm...data point.

Then we watched a few documentaries on Netflix.  Supersize Me--so disturbing.  Food, Inc. left us absolutely disgusted with the food industry.  Food Matters was very, very interesting--regarding supplying our bodies what we need to heal rather than just popping pills.  Data point.  Data point.  Data point.

Our good friends began juicing--and it has made a huge difference for them to get all of those nutrients every day.  They have lost weight and have noticed a enormous gain in energy.  Data point.

We were past the point of no return on this food journey.  We decided we needed to change the way we eat.  Considering that three out of the four of us are on daily medication for our brain chemistry, and my hubby's back continues to confound medical solutions, and we already KNOW food makes a difference for our family--it was obvious.  Change was necessary.

We came to the conclusion that our convenience based way of eating was not best for us.  We ate too much fast food, too much processed food, too little vegetables and fruits, and were getting way too little of the nutrients we need to be healthy.  Basically, from a health perspective, we were falling apart.  So, I started reading like crazy--books, blogs, etc.

And then I panicked.  I work outside the home.  Hubby being laid up often left me without his usual help around the house or in driving kids around.  I already needed a personal assistant or a housewife or something to survive--and now I need to rethink the way I cook, shop and feed my family?  And I knew I didn't know half of what I needed to know.  AAAH!

Deep breaths, Dawn.  If this is where I feel God is leading us as a family (and I do for many reasons not even mentioned) then He will provide and grant wisdom.  One way He has provided has been through my mom and sister, who are on this same journey.  We compare notes, and they have a bit more time to do research, scout stores, etc.  They have been a huge  help to me.  Another way He has guided is by providing perspective (this recovering perfectionist needs Divine help when it comes to perspective!).  I don't have to get it all right from the beginning.  Any changes we make in the right direction will help our family.  One step at a time.

So where are we on this journey now?  We are focusing on eating "real food".  Some call it "eating clean".  We have tried to eliminate processed foods.  I try to cook everything from basic ingredients.  We are trying to get to the point where we only eat meat from sources where the animals are fed the diet they were meant to eat, and where they aren't pumped up with hormones and other artificial stuff.  We already were a mostly whole grains family--I haven't bought white bread or crackers or regular pasta or white rice in a long time--but or resolve has increased.  Now we are making sure our treats are also whole grain, and without much sugar.  We are trying to eat more fruits and vegetables.  I am learning about oils and which are best to use and which I need to dispose of.  And I'm becoming interested in things like GMO's (google it) and the benefits of fermented foods.  Wow--who am I??  Pass me a diet coke!

We also decided that at this point we were going to focus on controlling what we eat at home, and the food we prepare here.  We are trying to do this about 80% of the time.  We are cutting way down on eating out, cause it's hard to find places where you can eat real food, prepared well.  However, when with friends who eat differently, we will too.  We are not going to force our convictions on everyone.  My kids can eat junk at birthday parties and friends's homes.  We allow ourselves to eat outside of our guidelines a little, and don't freak out about it.  We absolutely do not judge what others eat or the choices they make.

And, while I'm trying to cut way down, you may have gathered, I still drink diet coke.  I know--hypocritical.  However, I can imagine the day where it's gone or mostly gone.  It's coming.  You wait...

So that's where we are.  On a journey.  Doing the best we can.  We have lots to learn.

If any of this interests you--you may enjoy reading blogs of folks who have had their own food journey:  Kelly the Kitchen Kop, Heavenly Homemakers, Musings of a Housewife, and Nourish MD.  You may also enjoy this short, easy read:  Food Rules by Michael Pollan (your library should have it).  Feel free to send any resources that have helped you my way--I'll have my mom read them and tell me what they say!  {heehee}

And if you are looking for me today, I hopefully will resemble a bowl of oatmeal instead of a bag of peanut m and m's.  And maybe a diet coke...

a tribute

Today the world lost a great guy.  His name is Brad and he was 18 years old.  He lived his life with a muscle condition that left him pretty limited in mobility.  When he got a cold or something that would be simply a nuisance to most of us, it was easily life-threatening for Brad.  This morning, after fighting one of these illnesses for the last three weeks, Brad went to be with the Lord.

I didn't know Brad very well--but I admired him.  I watched him smile his way through church on Sundays, and fight his way through life.  A few memories of Brad stand out as I think of him tonight:

*  I fondly remember him standing with his walker, serving as an usher, handing out bulletins on Sundays, in spite of how hard it was for him to do so.

*  I remember enthusiastic games of "pass the pigs" on a high school retreat.  Brad had a knack for rolling the big ones...and was quite proud of it as well.

*  It warmed my heart to see some of our students learn how to help Brad physically so he could participate in youth group meetings.  He gave so much to them by sharing his needs and sharing his friendship.

Brad didn't complain, at least not that I heard.  He couldn't do everything and he was at peace with that it seemed.  I'm sure he had his days, his moments where he wished everything was different--but they didn't sour his outlook on life.  He readily gave a smile to anyone who needed one.

In 2008, I was asked to be the speaker at our High School retreat--and I gladly accepted.  I prepared four talks with the overarching theme of contentment.  I was ready to address how to be content in spite of circumstances (and ready to share the story of losing my son), being content with how God made us, and content with the relationships in our lives.  I prepared on and off for months, and knew God had given me the topic.

Then, I learned that Brad was going to be able to come.  I was so glad he would be there!  And then I imagined teaching what God gave me to teach with him there.  This young man whose body didn't work well, who has lived with frustration and pain that wouldn't likely go away in this life--that is who I am going to urge to be content?

Because of Brad--I was forced to ask myself once again if I really believed what I was about to teach.  Was it Truth?  If it's Truth, then it's true for Brad too.  As I wrestled with it all...God strengthened my faith and convictions.  I thank Brad for that.


And do you know what became evident as the weekend went on?  He might have been one of the most content people in attendance.  He taught us.  He taught me.


As my friend Beth put in her Facebook status, "I would say rest in peace, Brad, but the truth is, I bet he's running around like a crazy person on perfectly healthy legs in a perfectly healthy body, not resting."  I couldn't agree more with her sentiment.  


Well done, Brad.

well...the verdict

Today's puzzle piece was very different than I expected.  I had steeled myself for the news of a tumor.  For surgery.  For a possible answer to Dave's pain--or for even the worst news.  Mostly, I was hopeful this was the beginning of some treatment to solve this mess.  Instead, we got nothin.

Thankfully--the CT scan showed NO mass, and therefore NO cancer!  This is something to rejoice about, and I thank our God for this good news.  However, Dave's dear doctor, the only one who didn't just pass him off, who said they would get to the bottom of this...is out of ideas.  He put Dave on a course of meds that may be a possible maintenance plan, and referred him to a chiropractor he trusts.  Otherwise, he can't help Dave any more.

When Dave gave me the news I should have done a happy dance.  No cancer.  No surgery to face.  But I felt so deflated.  Cause now we feel like we have nowhere to turn.  Are we to just accept this as his life for ever more?  As I told my fellow church staff members the news (we were in a meeting when I got the call) I began crying.  Not the reaction of someone relieved that her husband does not have cancer!  How embarrassing.  But I felt like I was grieving a bit--grieving the loss of the hope I had that this was the answer.  Grieving the hope of another treatment.  Feeling a bit hopeless.

My tears were graciously met with compassion from my coworkers.  After venting to them, and crying off all of my makeup, I felt a bit better.  I looked terrible and I had a splitting headache, but I felt better.  I think by talking it out, I got some perspective.  My hubby is not dying, and even if he has to spend the majority of his days laid up...I still have a relationship with him.  We will need to rethink the way we do life perhaps--but we will be doing it together.

I am grateful.  This is Good--of this I'm confident.  Even if I shed a few tears, my trust is in the Redeemer.

puzzle pieces

On New Year's Eve, the kids, my mother-in-law and I poured a jigsaw puzzle's worth of pieces on the table with hopes of completing it as the evening went on.  We knocked-off the edges right away, and then tried to tackle the middle.  We were quickly overwhelmed.  The puzzle was a picture of Mount Rushmore, and the majority of it was grey, tan, brown.  It was hard to get our bearings, and it wasn't as much fun anymore.  We found ourselves spending a lot of time studying pieces but barely making a dent in the big picture.  We decided to go back to our game playing and put the puzzle back in its box.

It reminded me of an analogy we reflected on in our children's ministry this past month.  The kids were tasked with completing jigsaw puzzles without the lid that showed them the picture.  They made some progress but, as predicted, wished they had the lid.  Our storyteller went on to describe a time in her life when she just couldn't understand the circumstances around her, when she couldn't see what God was doing in her life.  And God gave her that analogy.  He reminded her that He had the "lid" and that He knew exactly what picture He was creating with the pieces of her life...even if she was overwhelmed, or confused, or the pieces she thought should fit didn't fit where she thought they would.

That analogy, combined with a wonderful sermon series on Hope our pastor preached during advent--helped Dave and me to hear God saying to us that even though we don't know all that is going on, or what picture He is fashioning right now...He does know.  He has a plan.  He is making something beautiful...and we are to just wait and see it enfold.  It was one of those cool times when hubby and I both heard God saying the same thing to us.

Dave and me at Disney World--12/29/10

Some of the "pieces" we are dealing with--especially regarding Dave's ongoing back troubles--don't fit with the picture we'd like to create with our life.  We'd like him to be able-bodied.  We would like to be able to do everything we want to do as a family.  We would like to do away with the disappointments, and discouragement of his condition this last year and a half.  The pieces are confusing, and at times it's hard to get our bearings.  I'd like to put a piece of pain relief in the puzzle here, and a miraculous cure in there.

At this very moment, I am typing from a hospital waiting room, where Dave is undergoing a CT scan.  He had a bone scan on the 23rd, and it showed a "mass" in one of his rib-vertebrae joints.   We are hoping that this is the beginning of a solution for him--but have to admit our minds have wandered some to the potential scary we could face.

Yet, we remember that we don't know the picture...and who are we to try and force our choice of puzzle pieces into the places we think they should go?

And while it's tempting to want to quit and put the puzzle back in the box--I know that our God is putting a Big-G-Good picture together.  So we're trusting Him with the pieces we don't understand and embracing the journey.

starting again...

It's a new year.  It's time to start over.  Make resolutions.  Have a fresh start.  I like the reflection that comes with this time of year...but I'm a little behind in the reflecting department.  We just returned from vacation in Florida late last night, and today, I've been rather comatose.

In my semi-conscious state tonight, I am beginning to think about what I want to strive for this new year.  And I am realizing, I don't really want anything new...just to get back to what I was already striving for.  I want to get back to blogging regularly (how did almost a month go by?).  To cut down on my diet coke consumption.  To eat healthier.  To cook more.  To exercise often.  To have fun family time.  To keep up with housework and laundry.  To show my husband how much I love him.  To be quiet enough to listen to God's voice leading me.

None of these things are new.  I'm not setting new goals.  I'm just starting again...  I'm starting again to make the little daily choices that add up to being who I want to be.  And I'm good with that.  God's mercies are new every morning and I'm starting again...

Happy New Year, bloggies.

white envelope giving

The coolest thing happened at church a few weeks ago.

Our Pastor was finishing up a short series on giving.  I think many pastors hate doing "the money talk", but ours looked forward to it.  My favorite part of the series was when he pointed out that we need to give out of our story, out of how generously we have been blessed by our generous God.  So often we give out of duty, out of a set of rules or expectations...or even guilt.  Instead, we should give out of grateful hearts, remembering what has been given us.

OK, fast forward to the end of the service on week two of the two-week series.  (I told you it was short!) That is when the pastor makes his plug for more sacrificial giving to the church, right?  Kicks off a building campaign, right?  Nope.  Instead, the ushers came forward with handfuls of white envelopes.  Each family got an envelope.  Inside the envelopes?  Cash!  No less than $20 and one envelope even had $1000.  What were these for?  We were to use the contents to bless someone else in need.  It was to be done personally (not given to an organization).  Other than that, the sky is the limit.

Wow.  Who would expect the church to give us money instead of ask for more?

The hope is that this money will bless our city in all sorts of small ways.  We pray that God multiplies it in the lives affected.  However, what is going on in our hearts is even bigger than that.

Many in our church family have found themselves challenged by this project.  Giving money away should be easy...but it hasn't been for many.  We are learning.

Here is what my family is learning anew:  First, we live insulated from people in need.  We don't cross paths with the poor.  Our daily travels and associations have us around people with plenty.  Maybe not everything they want, but plenty. We like it that way, we don't have to feel the pain of others if we don't see them.  Ouch.

Those we do know, we don't know well enough to know what they need.  We know our neighbors--we wave, borrow tools from each other, talk about all sorts of things.  Yet, as we thought of our neighbors, we couldn't identify if anyone was struggling in a way we could bless them.  Yes, we know this one is recently divorced, this one is a relatively new widow, this one is out of work.  We know circumstances, but not what they need.

It's terribly convicting.  We have money to give away and don't know who to bless with it, or who needs it.  Yikes.

So, we've come up with a few ideas.  Don't you worry--we will bless someone.  But.  But the real (however painful) blessing is ours.  We've been given the gift of awareness.  We thought that because we care about the less fortunate, we sponsor a compassion child, we make a few charitable donations, that meant we were caring for the needy.

However, the needy are all around us.  I know it.  I also now know I don't really know anything about any of them...   I'm so glad my white envelope of cash has shone light on my ignorance.  I pray that God gives me His eyes to see the needs all around me, to be willing to be involved in messy situations, and to give to others out of the generous Gift I've been given.

no tree??

We put the Christmas decorations up this weekend.  I love Christmas decorations.  It is always fun for the house to be decked out with symbols of the joy we feel because God came to be with us.  But guess what?  We didn't put up our tree this year.  I know, I know...that qualifies me as some sort of a scrooge.   We have reasons.  Traveling schedules, hubby's back issues, and mostly a desire to simplify--all played into our decision.

me??  

Plus, I have an ornament thing.  I LOVE Christmas ornaments.  Many of ours are gifts from loved ones or attached to memories of each year.  We have ornaments to remember vacations, every Disney trip, babies, new homes, our dog, and other family milestones.  We have precious homemade ornaments from the kids.  We have special ornaments in honor of the special babies that live in heaven:  Earl (Dave's sister's firstborn-1992), Aidan (our little guy-1999) and Sadie (my sister's sweet girl--2009).  We also have many ornaments that point us to Christ's birth that are special to us.  Almost all of our ornaments are packed away with care in their own wrapping, many in their original boxes.  I even have written the dates and the gift givers on most of the boxes as well.    {OK, maybe I'm a little uptight about the ornament boxes...} And we have tons.  We can't even get them all on the tree anymore.  But I love our full, eclectic, tree.

our tree last year

We watched a decorating special this weekend, and I am sure our tree breaks many of the holiday decorating rules...but who cares?  It's ours, it's special to us, and we love it.

And we didn't put it up this year.  In our {my?} desire to simplify our holiday season a bit--it was the thing if we eliminated would have the greatest impact on our time and on our energy.  As you can imagine, all that ornament abundance makes for a time consuming endeavor.  Especially on the put-away end of things.  And somehow, no one is as excited about that part...

Christmas isn't a tree, right?  I'm ALL about traditions, but am trying to learn not to put them ahead of sanity, peace and health.  I can get a little perfectionistic in my expectations.  My desire to simplify this season comes from a desire to leave space for some other traditions...celebrating advent with story and togetherness and peaceful waiting.  Those things get crowded out pretty easily when I am busy with all the have-tos and all the make-it-wonderfuls.

I'm sure none of you are scroogy-tree-skippers like me, but I love to hear creative ideas on making the season more than just a bunch of to-dos, enjoyable as they might be.  So, are any of you trying to simplify this year?

do we dare hope?

Do we dare to hope?

This is what has been going through my head this morning since my hubby said these words to me, "You know, I think the pains shots might be working...".

If you've read theGoodlife much, you know that hubby has been dealing with frustrating and often debilitating back pain for over a year.  We've tried different doctors, different meds, different procedures to no avail.  We've been excited by potential solutions, only to have them disappoint.

And you see, pain is not just physical pain.  It drains.  It is depressing.  All four of us have found ourselves more than frustrated, more than once. It eats at our family life, at our ability to enjoy things together.  It eats at relationships, cause the energy goes to surviving.  It steals moments we thought were a given.

Last week, hubby had yet another procedure.  Pain shots into a different area--the joints between ribs and vertebrae.  (Did you know those were joints?  Me either.)  He spent a miserable week off of ibuprofen in preparation.  He spent the five days after the procedure in worse pain than before.  Stink.  Another procedure that didn't seem to be helping.  Doc said it could still be normal for it not to be working yet.  Don't give up hope yet.  OK.

And then Tuesday it wasn't terrible.  And then yesterday was pretty good.  And then his words this morning...

"Thank you God" was my verbal response.

The response in my heart was different.  It was guarded.  Protecting itself from more disappointment.  Do I dare hope we've found the answer or at least part of the answer?  Or do I steal myself for what might come in a day or a week?

I understand why I feel this way.  I bet you do too.  I bet you've been there in one circumstance or another...wondering if you dare to hope?  It feels like a normal response, but I'm not sure if it's the right one.

I know the Author of Hope.  Shouldn't I be able to hope freely at the words I've longed to hear?  At the slight smile on hubby's face?

I am not going to wrap up this post with an answer to those questions.  I want to hear what you have to say...and I'll keep thinking on it myself.

(by the way, didn't plan to blog again so soon after closing my laptop, but I felt free to blurt this out this morning...)

scarred, but whole

It's been a year since I first shared about Aidan in this post.  I thought I would write tons more about him and our journey, but for some reason, it's taking me a while.  But as we arrive on the anniversary of his heavenly homegoing again (11 years!) I have more to say.

People often ask me if you can ever heal from the pain of losing a child.  Just to be clear, I don't claim that losing a child is the worst pain you could ever suffer.  I don't know what it's like to get a terminal diagnosis, to lose a parent or spouse, or to be abused in any way...I know what it is like to lose a 4 month old child.  It absolutely sucks.  (pardon my french, but it fits).

I remember the day Aidan died, we felt a sense of relief at first.  Sadness, yes.  But oddly enough, relief.  We finally weren't worried about him, and he was no longer suffering or facing a long list of surgeries and repairs.  But as we entered our home without the hope of ever bringing him home...the deep pain of grief overwhelmed us.  It actually physically hurt.  We cried like we never have before or since.  We held each other and sobbed the deepest sobs I've ever heard.

It was like a piece of my heart had been torn away,  physically ripped from my body.  What was left was a heart with a gaping wound, one that bled and oozed with each beat.  I know that is a little dramatic, but that is the way I can best describe it.  In the days that followed, I explained it that way several times to kind, listening ears.

Months passed, years passed.  We grieved.  We journeyed some rough roads.  We healed.  God's grace proved sufficient, just as He promised. 

Yet, I did not return to the person I was before I was Aidan's mom.  I never will.  I am changed...in more ways than I could begin to describe, or even comprehend.  And I am whole.  WHOLE.  Really.  My heart has healed completely.  The gaping wound no longer bleeds.

Nor is my heart the same as it was before.  You see, it has a scar.  The evidence of it's wound is there, but it is not at all hindered.  The scar is actually a beautiful part of my heart, and in a way only God could accomplish, the scar has made my heart stronger.

I must admit the scar is a tender spot though, and if it gets hit just right, the pain returns for a time.  The tears flow, and the wound aches.  Yet even in the ache, even in the remembering, my heart is whole.  God has healed me and redeemed the pain.

I wouldn't trade my scarred heart.  It's a gift.  And I'm grateful.  

Perhaps your heart is scarred from pain that God has healed...if so, thank God with me today for His redeeming grace.  If your heart is still bleeding, I ache for you.  Yet I trust (even if you can't at this point) that if you cooperate with God's touch in your life, in His timing, He will knit you a beautiful, strong, scar.

happy 11th anniversary in heaven, sweet aidan. 

clean

Patch resting on my bed this morning...and yes, he does have eyes in there!

Last week my little pup was sick.  Some sort of stomach bug.  Poor guy didn't seem to know what was going on, and wasn't able to make it outside for any of the "events" the illness caused.  I even gave a moment's thought to fashioning some sort of doggie diaper to handle things on that end.  We settled on keeping him in one place, surrounded by towels.

There was plenty of carpet cleaning, and towel washing.  But, when all was said and done, I knew I faced the worst task.  Washing the ick off of him.  I knew his fur was covered with all of the mess he didn't want to make.  He had been sitting in it.  It was stuck to him.  He smelled, and no one in the family wanted to touch him or give him his regular attention.  The yuck isolated him.

So, I gently carried his nervous, shaky body to the tub (he hates baths...).  And I washed him.  I didn't want to think about all that I was getting on my hands as I scrubbed ALL of him.  But I love him and I knew he couldn't stay dirty.  If he did, he would not be able to be near us (that was FOR SURE!).

As I scrubbed the grossness, I heard the Father say to me:

I do this to you all the time...

There is plenty of ick in your life I'd rather not deal with.  But I love you.  I want to be in relationship with you.  I wash it away.  I love to wash it away. I make you clean again.

Who ever thought washing a dog could be a visit to the Holy of Holies?

Celebrating this everyday moment made divine with emily and others at chatting at the sky.

remembering...again.

I posted this a year ago today.  I have a full day today, but I have to remember.  I promised myself I'd never forget.

(written 9/11/2009)

Last night, Bubba innocently asked me,

"Mom, what is the big deal about 9/11 anyway?"

How do you answer that? He was an infant at the time and has grown up in the post 9/11 world. So as I tried to explain it to him...I remembered once again:

waking up that morning thinking it was a regular day

seeing the second plane hit as we watched the TV and realizing this was not an accident

the jaw-dropping shock that we were "under attack"

the feeling of confusion as events unfurled

yelling OHNO! as my car radio announced the first tower fell as we drove to school

dropping off my daughter at kindergarten and wondering if I was nuts to leave her somewhere other than home that day.

meeting a mom in the kindergarten line who hadn't heard what was happening and telling her

meeting another mom who was trying to keep it together in front of her kids because her husband was at the pentagon and she hadn't heard from him yet

seeing people at school in tears

the overwhelming feeling of vulnerability

the need to call everyone I loved

the amazing footage and images

being glued to the TV for days and days

the connection I felt to my New York heritage

the heartbreak of seeing all the flyers posted of people looking for loved ones

my daughter asking that afternoon if we could please watch something else...

the patriotism I saw demonstrated all around me

the patriotism I felt (maybe for the first time)

the flags...everywhere

being moved by the inspiring story of those who crashed their own plane in PA to save others

feeling so angry that there were those who thought of this plan and were able to carry it out

the lingering feeling that we are not as safe in America as we thought we were...

feeling SO grateful for the service of firefighters, police officers, good samaritans and our military

wishing I could do more...

I am remembering all of that and then some today. I try to explain it to my kids. They can understand the facts--but the feelings of it all are hard to pass on. I'm realizing now why former generations can be frustrated why we don't "understand" the Great Depression, the country-wide war effort during WWII, the emotions of the Vietnam War crisis...we get the facts, but it's hard to feel it. We are the on the other side of it all.

My kids live on the other side of 9/11.

be still, part one

First of all, I'm so excited that some of you have decided to join the 24over24 challenge.  It's not too late...join us!

When I won credit to Lisa Leonard Designs, I thought I'd have a hard time choosing.  And at first I certainly did...cause I have many MANY, favorites.  But once I thought about it, I knew exactly which one I had to choose.

Be Still

It's the Be Still necklace.  I knew because God has been teaching me to be still in so many ways lately.  Because He knows me.  And He knows I want to be anything but still.  I want to be fixing.  I want to be leading.  I want to be helping.  I want to be planning, researching, discussing, solving.

back of necklace

For my hubby (and therefore, for me too) this has been a hard summer.  There have been challenges that no matter how hard we try, we can't conquer.  They are beyond us.  Stress, frustration and discouragement have been regular visitors to our home.  Hopelessness and fear have even stopped by a few times.  These are not the houseguests we wanted.

In the midst of one tough week, God had me read the account of the Israelites being led out of Egypt.  As they came upon the Red Sea, with the Egyptians on their tails...things looked pretty hopeless.  There was no way out.  I'm sure they despaired.  But through the night, God was blowing back the water.  I have to think they may not have been able to see it happening, so the despair continued while God was already making a way.

I have never been trapped against a sea with an army pursuing me--but I have felt the despair and defeat they must have felt.  I have wondered why God wasn't answering my prayers.  I have felt stupid for having hope.  Yet God was working, even when I couldn't see it.  He was making a way--even if it wasn't a way I would have ever considered.

Do you know what God had Moses tell the Israelites while they despaired on the shore of the sea?  He said, "The Lord will fight for you, you need only to be still." (Ex. 14:14)

But how?  Be still.  Can I help?  Be still.  Should I make a plan?  Be still.  What if?  Be still.

I don't know what Red Sea you are up against, or the army that might be pursuing you, but I know this...

The Lord will fight for you.

Be still.

Learn with me, bloggies.