Wow. It's hard to believe it's only been 3 weeks. It feels like a year. A lifetime.
Three weeks ago we were told to "go fishing or cut bait" so to speak. Find a house and move or sign another lease here. It seemed to be God's perfect timing as we had just applied for a loan that very week! An IRS mix up had actually worked out in our favor and it seemed a strong possibility. We were excited. We were finally MOVING.
This little house we snagged was supposed to be a 1yr thing. We were moving out of GA in one week and needed a place desperately! All the doors had slammed shut. We had made several trips up here to find housing and everything had turned out to be a dead-end. The little "for rent" sign stuck in the yard just a few hours before was our answered prayer! Almost before even going inside we looked at each other and said "this is it."
And it was.
But as babies came and streams of family and friends constantly went, the house began to close in on us. We knew it was just temporary and definitely better than an apartment! But technicalities kept us from being able to get a loan, due to being self employed and a crazy law suit that lasted 4 years.
Then it CAME.
The day we thought "this is it!" God is moving us on!!"
We got crazy busy. Two type-A's. One recently dubbed official real estate agent and the other a desperate full-time stay at home mom, homeschooler, and people/party/host enthusiast. We were DRIVEN. We spent almost an entire week on the MLS, driving streets, making showing appointments, phone calls. It was CRAZY. We were excited.
We found a lot of crap in our budget. A lot. Then we found one house in Dallas Downs we LOVED. But it was a little bit on the small side. And at the top of our budget. But so nice! The layout was fantastic and had a bonus room with an extra bath which would be perfect for all our guests! Fenced in yard. I cried when we left. Just because it seemed so stinkin' nice.
So we drove around the neighborhood because we really liked it. A sign in the yard. "Coming soon". An adorable little cottage.
We called and set up a showing. A quick walk through. The renter opened the door and was NOT happy to see us. She was on the phone and was upset that the landlord was showing the house AND that we had kids. So we sooooooooooo quickly tiptoed around boxes through the house, encouraging the kids to whisper, hold our hands, and not touch anything. 5 minutes in the house and we decided to make an offer on it. We knew by far it was nicer than anything we had seen.
Counteroffer and it was reasonable. A crazy day of paperwork and a contract was signed.
Pending on our financing of course.
And the games began.
Oh yes, the Olympic games too. They were a welcome evening relief ;)
We kept hearing "manana, manana." You'll hear on Monday, no should be Thurs or Friday, no now Tuesday. It went from one person to another to another. Then to the underwriters. We waited on pens and needles for 2 weeks. Meanwhile our landlord wanting to get the house on the market right away or else have us sign another lease. We felt pressed. Anxious. Yet full of peace, fully trusting. Everyone I talked to kept saying "Oh He's got this! God is so going to give this to you!" It was so encouraging!
Yet I knew in my heart, honestly. I didn't believe in a health and wealth gospel. I was committed to Jesus. House or no house. So often we think if we truly pray with allllllll our faith we will get a YES! Back off, Joel Osteen! Been there, done that. Gotten delusional. Gotten angry. Wanted to walk away from a "god" that failed me and failed to live up to the promises I thought I deserved.
The bottom line is He doesn't owe me a house. It's not promised for my happiness in this life or my eternal security. I was finally done with trying to wait expectantly on Him for a certain answer - my answer - and feel jipped when I didn't get it.
I wanted Jesus. I kept my face FIXED on His. Gazelle intense, let me tell ya! People kept saying "He will bless you with this!" I couldn't help but think "He already has blessed me. A house will not prove blessing."
I'm gonna pause here. This is HUGE for me!!!! (!!!) You may not know how huge. Growing up in some circles of thinking we did, there were so many promised steps and principles to follow, and if you did everything just right, you were GUAR-AN-TEED BLESSING! (insert an image of a cheesy miracle salesman here) I swear if I hear one more person say "well God has something better!" or "when He closes a door He opens a window!" I'm gonna SOCK 'EM!!! Because dang, we are not promised that! Maybe He doesn't have something better - maybe it's harder! or worse! or maybe the door slams shut and the window neeeeeever opens! The truth of the matter is, He's still God! He still loves me! It's not results based. It's relationship based.
The problem is, we did that. My amazing husband - before even finding a wife - started building a house with his bare hands, from the ground up, debt-free, back in 2002. I remember walking through that house after we started our relationship and thinking "WOW." Really I was blown away! From a backwoods girl that grew up in a lil
Working like crazy on that house as we had the money. Dreaming. Hoping.
Then along came a big job. I still remember where I was standing when David called me. "Babe, I just got offered the job of our LIVES. It's on a huge complex here and we are going to be working on it for months and will bank some serious cash! Just think of all we can get done on the house!" We were excited. Nervous that the job was so big, but excited.
Most of the way through the project, the bottom fell out. The owner filed for bankruptcy. And we were left high and dry.
Our "debt-free" convictions went to the wind when we had to take out a line of equity on the house just to pay off the workers and suppliers under us. Then we decided to put the house up for sale. Because we were in over our heads now.
It was a miracle it sold. Being unfinished in a bad real estate market. But three doors down lived a family in a trailer that just happened upon a huge inheritance. Lucky day for them.
Saying goodbye to that beautiful house, with all my Pottery Barn dreams of the cozy window seats, the grand hand-lain stone fireplace and the immaculate witch's hat roof in the kitchen was tough. My man had dreamed that and built it with all the finest materials you could buy, so it would last a lifetime. He had planned to put his big family in there and live forever. He was determined to not live renting from house to house as his family had growing up. It killed me. I know it killed him.
But we resolved, it's just a house. Wood and stone. Home is where the heart is :)
And baby #2 was on it's way. A friend in our church had an investment home that he was working on renovating. He offered us a deal on rent if we would help finish out the renovations. Pregnant and sick, we both laid tile, painted, and spent long days and some nights over there, toddling Gabrielle in tow. But we finally got in. Lived there a year, as the law suit over the bankrupt job grew intense. The checks we wrote each month to our attorney were astronomical. Some month's greater than our living expenses. It was killing us. Inside and out. Looking back, I see how frustrated, disillusioned, and beaten down of spirit we were. McKayla was born. What a precious little sweet baby she was. I hurt to think how stressed and frustrated we were, we couldn't slow down and enjoy her. Enjoy life. The finances and stress of it all was choking us to death. My health was a wreck and it was affecting my baby. We decided to get away, take a trip to the beach for a week.
A tsunami blew in and our house was broken into while we were gone. Some stress reliever.
We spent the next month trying to deal with insurance companies and be recompensed for all our losses.
With all the financial pressures of the law suit, we decided we needed to downgrade in house and pay less rent to free us up. We found a little place that was 887sq feet and $800 a month. We grabbed it. We affectionately call that, "our ghetto house." That was the house we were in when the SWAT team came knocking on our door at 3:00am in the morning to evacuate us. The guy behind us had a hostage and a gun and was crazy. Oh and he was directly behind our girl's bedroom. Nice. So we spent the night in a SWAT truck which was quite entertaining. And I thanked God all night I had grabbed the diaper bag that happened to be stashed with goldfish and extra diapers.
We knew something had to give.
We were so frustrated with life at this point. Work was drying up. Our church situation was frustrating. The law suit was at it's peak. We were EXHAUSTED. Confused.
So we up and moved to Tennessee :)
Well really, through as series of random events, the Lord led us here. But it was, most definitely, crazy. Wonderful.
We snagged this rental house and moved up here. Only knowing a friend of a friend, who graciously showed up the day we moved in to help out.
That first year here felt like freedom. A fresh start! And terrifying. We were a nervous wreck, hoping just to make ends meet as Dave got his business off the ground. Yet we were full of faith. We knew God would provide and we saw it happen. Daily. One sweet lady in my Bible study that knew our story handed me a card one day and with tears in her eyes said, "we have been there. hang on. it will get better." Inside was $100. I went and bought groceries and was so blown away by God's provision.
David's business continued to grow. And grow! He is a man of integrity. Honesty. Word of mouth has spread like wildfire and He is doing incredible.
Yet the law suit still lingered. Until fall of 2011 it finally ended. We barely made more than what we put in, but it was OVER. We could not believe it. It felt like a lifetime of ups and downs and craziness. OVER.
But it screwed up all our taxes and therefore making getting a loan for 2 years impossible.
We thought until now. But the word finally came: NOPE. No way. Closed door until 2013 when they will look at it again.
When Dave told me the news on the phone that day, I burst into tears. Truly in my heart, I just wanted to know - I just wanted an answer. The living in limbo was driving me bonkers. And yet I saw God's hand all over it and had the craziest peace! But somehow when He told me, all that pent up emotion just gushed out. I cried relief. I cried hurt.
I let it go.
Two days later, the homeowner called back and asked if we wanted to rent the house for the next 6 months until we could get our financing in January. When Dave told me, I was like "whatever." Really. I think I was just so emotionally worn out and had a "I'll believe it when I see it" attitude.
So all this last week, negotiations has been going on. I've felt in limbo all over again. We haven't started school because I don't know where to have the school books shipped. I haven't mopped floors because I don't want to clean if we are about to start the messy ordeal of packing. I've collected boxes and packing paper out the wazoo and it's all on standby. I gathered up all un-needed items and had a yard sale.
Willing to accept whatever the answer. My face FIRMLY planted on Jesus. Just looking into His eyes, it was as if His hands were holding my face saying "look at Me. follow Me. don't look around, just look at Me."
As negotiations went back and forth, it became apparent to us that the homeowner was wanting more and more from us. First he set a rent price, which seemed really reasonable. But then he was starting to tack on a monthly home improvement agreement, and have us pay taxes and insurances.... as we looked at it, we realized we were going to be out a seriously lot of money and be house poor. He seemed really nice like he wanted to work with us. I kept saying to David "maybe you can just call and talk to him and work this all out!?" But I knew. He knew. The door was closing. My emotions wanted to scramble to hang on to it. I was not in a position to draw a rational conclusion. But I knew. Dave made the decision for us to stay here and sign another lease.
I was frustrated because the Lord had slammed the door shut, then opened it again, then slammed it again. WHAT THE HECK!?!!? Anddddddddddddd how about let's be the rag doll's for this month's exhibition!
Today I went to the rec center to run. Dave was chillin' on the hammock, girls in the kiddie pool and Asher taking a nap.
I ran. I ran hard. I listened to loud music and my hair was slinging droplets of sweat all over the base of my treadmill and I dare say some on the guy's treadmill next to me. (sorry, dude) The little old lady on my right kept glancing over at me as I kicked my speed up higher... and higher... and higher. She had this perfect Betty White face and it made me want to laugh because all I could hear was her saying "young people these days!" It about gave her a heart attack to see my neon pink and yellow shoes grab at the treadmill with such an intense gallop. But, dear grandma, I'm staying sane.
I left out of there and got in the car and pulled into a secluded spot in front of a tree. And just cried.
"Lord, just love on me a bit. Just love on me." I just wanted His affirmation.
I am fully convinced He sees. He cares. In the past I have battled anger with not getting what I thought I deserved. But now I see, it's Him I'm getting. Life is full of hardships and tribulations, but it is not ever without Him. That's the gift. That's the promise.
I know I probably sound like a broken record. I have lived, slept, eaten, and breathed "house" stuff the past 3 weeks. I know I probably sound like the crazy house lady. Mrs. Materialistic. Discontent.
But it's ok. I'll run that risk. Because God is up to something bigger than me. This hasn't been about a 3 week process, it's been an 8 year journey. To give up my dreams of what my little life would be like. To surrender. And surrender some more. And I'm sure the surrender will continue.
Will He always have it be hard? I don't know. I honestly am not looking for results anymore. I am weary. Exhausted. Yet full of peace. As I think of sweet Edlawit, our compassion child from Ethiopia hanging on our fridge, I know she would think this rental house a mansion. Our aids-free environment a miracle. Our food, toys, friends, and opportunities as such riches. We were never promised the American Dream. Somehow I must confess, it's easy for me to get caught up in that without even knowing it. And then I come back to reality. His reality.
So now. I am tired and exhausted and really not caring anymore. Letting go. Embracing what I do have. What a fantastic place to be! No this is not my typical Pollyanna move. It really is Jesus. Transforming me. I'm not always smiling or radiant or joyful about it. I cry sometimes and feel sad sometimes. I know some people don't understand or are insensitive. It's ok. The work within my heart is worth it all. Truly. I'm happier in this rental than I was in the beautiful home David and I were building 8 years ago.
Yet it is hard. Wearisome. Sometimes I feel we are the only ones going through this in our circles. It's ok. We all have our trials. I cry out to Him daily to fill my empty cup and give me contentment and creativity. I don't know why He keeps leading us on promising paths only to slam the door. But I trust His heart. I know it must be His protection. His provision.
I do battle from time to time bitterness towards the man that singlehandedly brought about the law suit 6 years ago that still haunts us today. I woke up the other night full of rage. Hurt. Frustration. And yet I know. God is bigger than He. It is not that man, ultimately. It is God using it.
I truly am not trying to sound pious. Or pull myself up by my own bootstraps. I've done enough of that in my lifetime to know I will go gloriously long and spartan-like until I crash and burn in a heap of mess. It really is Jesus doing a work and I look constantly to Him. He is softening me to His will, and opening my eyes to His mercy.
So here we are! I feel I can say truly, I see my blessings much clearer. It's like a layer of grime has been washed from my lenses. I'm enjoying my children more, and not focusing so much on my circumstances. So that is good. I'm grabbing life's crazy little moments and grasping firmly for that strong hand of my man as we walk this journey together. So that's good. I'm valuing friendships, gifts, service, and other's more than I ever have. So that's good. And I am waking up each morning with a stronger sense of my dependence and need for a Savior. My Savior. So that's good.
"It is God who arms me with strength, and makes my way perfect." Ps 18:32
"The Lord redeems the soul of His servants, and none of them that trust in Him shall be desolate." Ps 34:22
"My flesh and my heart may fail, but God is the strength of my heart and my portion forever." Ps 73
"God is too good to be unkind and too wise to be mistaken. And when we cannot trace His hand, we must trust His heart" -Charles Spurgeon
Tuesday, August 7, 2012
Saturday, July 14, 2012
Remember Lot's Wife
The message at church 2 weeks ago was on the passage in Luke 17 about Lot and his wife. I've heard the story a thousand times but something that day hit me like a ton of bricks. Lloyd paused in the middle of the passage when he got to that part.... he said something like "think about it. Doesn't that seem kinda harsh that God would BAM turn a woman into a pillar of salt? What did she do that was so horrific? Just a quick glance? Like 'hey what's going on back there, all the destruction of the city?' No. It was more than curiosity. Her heart was back in Sodom. She was looking back - longingly - to what mattered most to her. Not that her God and her family were with her - no. It wasn't enough. It was what she left behind. Her heart betrayed her."
Read the context!
“It will be just like this on the day the Son of Man is revealed. On that day no one who is on the roof of his house, with his goods inside, should go down to get them. Likewise, no one in the field should go back for anything. Remember Lot’s wife! Whoever tries to keep his life will lose it, and whoever loses his life will preserve it."
Jesus is talking about when He returns. No one will be able to run inside their house and grab their stuff. He's saying if that's your life - your stuff - you're gonna lose it. Remember Lot's wife. As an example.
Matthew 16:21 - "For where your treasure is, there will your heart be also."
In my whole journey of being in this "waiting" season, on many levels, I find my heart warring. Between my paradox of what I want and think I need and where God has me. It's not always the classic materialism that creeps into our heart. Maybe not the obvious desire for a new car or new house or new summer wardrobe. (or maybe it is) But maybe the ease of life you thought you'd have, the friendships you had hoped for or the expectations for your marriage or your relationships with your children. Really any "treasure" beside Jesus is an idol. Materialism.
That's where I find myself.
I feel these days my heart is warring. Spinning out of control at times. I long to just sit and rest with just Jesus and it be enough! Days it is. Other days I am Lot's nameless wife, glancing back for another look at what could be, what should have been, what I left behind, what I will never have. I want "JESUS+". Ya know, the nice little add on you see on the "but WAIT! call now in the next 9 minutes and we will throw in the FREE double super duper set at no extra charge!"
Yeah. Pretty sick.
OR maybe it's like the Nike+ I so adore. The little chip you throw in your shoe and it tracks your running, distance, speed, even can sync with your music. The "perfect world" experience for a runner. It's not just running. It's running WITH music, facts, tracking, and an automated friend to cheer you on and report your progress.
That sounds nice.
I think that's what my heart wants so much of the time. Jesus+. Until I spin faster and faster, searching and trying to make it all happen until I just CAN'T hold it together anymore and I'm on my face, ashamed before Him of my idolatry, begging for mercy and clinging to JUST JESUS. No plus. No obedient kids or organized house or perfect friendships or itemized budget or perfect body or super sensitive husband or days with no rain, spills, chaos, mess, disappointments, letdowns, failures, disasters, or unexpected calamities. We were never promised that.
Let me say it again.
For myself.
I WAS NEVER PROMISED THAT.
I find I am most at peace and rest when I quit fighting reality and embrace it, in all of its brokenness, and let Jesus meet me there.
This has been a tough week for me. But I can just hear His whispers.... "date time with you, girl!" That's how he calls out to me. It gets tough and rough and all through it I see Him saying "come onnnn! Let go and come be with Me."
This last week I do not wish to repeat. My selfish heart, my independence, my buying into the lies and untruths. But this next week? This next week I long for Him to heal me. To lead me. To let truth be my balm. To seek Him out and give Him priority in my days. I see what a wreck I am without His constant guiding grace.
I made a visual. To remind me. To remember. And not look back. To look forward to what lies ahead - what Jesus has in store - to what the light of His countenance leads me towards.
It's a jar filled with salt. A daily reminder to not be Lot's wife. To let my treasure be of the eternal and not the earthly. To let Jesus be my heart and not my own. To learn to live in the paradox of life - full of imperfection and yet, oh so perfect and blessed.
And to not look back. Or else things might get a little salty...
Friday, June 15, 2012
Longing for Home
Our lives have been a tale of gypsies. We have moved 5 times since being married, pretty much every year until last year when we made the big move to Tennessee. We grabbed a rental house at the last minute, thank God. We had made 2 trips up here looking for homes and every.single.one fell through. Here we were, lease up in 1 week and we had no where to live! A sign had just been stuck in the yard that day. Almost before even walking in we said "we'll take it."
The plan was 1 year. Get established, on our feet, then look for a home. But with the lawsuit and the craziness of that, financially on paper after 1 year we could not get a loan. So 1 year became 2. After an almost 4 year battle, the law suit ended. Praise Jesus. Oh and can I say it again!? PRAISE JESUS. Finally, got approved for a small loan.
After that point several foreclosures or cheap houses popped up. We'd go look at them, get excited, then something would fall through. Disappointing.
Then the opportunity to buy an investment house presented itself. It would be a quick real estate flip. Came right on the heels of Dave getting his real estate licence, so seemed God was moving. We worked a few months to find a private investor. Felt like if we did the flip, it would give us more cash to put down on a house. It was kinda holding us up until we moved forward finding a house on our own.
A few days ago we got a call: the investment house had another buyer, so that door was closed.
Within an hour of that, we got an email from our agent/friend. A fantastic foreclosure. Looked too good to be true. In the midst of a crazy insane work week we scrambled to go look at it. It was only 10 min from where we are now. As I start walking around and through it, I am slowly seeing every little detail of of the longings of my heart... my little prayers offered up here and there.... a fireplace, a fenced in back yard, a big bonus/school room, a guest room (because we have people staying with us all.the.time!), kids rooms close to parents, open layout, garage, nice quiet neighborhood... you name it! It was in rough shape. Pretty much just a shell, ready to be loved on by two dreamers and visionaries that knew a boatload about construction. We saw a diamond in the rough. And the price was honestly TOO good to be true. In this area, you can't get peanuts for your dollar. Everything is insane expensive compared to Georgia.
So we moved forward on it. David worked all night putting together the contract. I drove around and ran errands with the kids like a crazy woman getting papers dropped off and signed.
It was all coming together in ways that seemed too good to be true. Our real estate friend was buying a new house and offered us her entire kitchen - pickled cabinets, granite countertops, and fancy stainless appliances just like I like, all for a fantastic barter deal. She even had brand new carpet she didn't need - perfect to replace the dirty ones in the bedrooms!
GOD WAS IN THIS! We were sure of it.
And we waited. A few days.
Then David texts me. "Call me when you get a minute."
So I did. And come to find out it had already had 5 or 6 cash offers, so they didn't even want to bother with someone who needed a loan.
No.
And like that *bam*. It didn't really hit me at first. "Ok" was all I said. But as I started getting ready to go, I felt the tears come close to my eyes.
I don't cry much. I used to cry like a crazy woman in my teens. The older I get, the less I cry. I cry more for other people/with other people than I do my own stuff. Somehow I manage to toughen up and bear my hardships like a spartan. Not necessarily something to be proud of. But after all the craziness of the rollercoaster our lives have been on, I have learned I can't cry about it all. Because I would probably be crying all the time.
It was already a tough day. We had not had one sit down meal at home with daddy the whole week. Catching up on work after being gone on vacation practically undid all the glories of vacation! haha :) I called David and said I was totally worn out. All the craziness of single parenting plus chopping veggies all day long for this dumb diet left me feeling physically and emotionally weak. He encouraged me to have sitter come and get out for a bit by myself.
Food is such an emotional pick-me-up. HAHA! I know they all say "don't eat for emotional reasons," but we all do. When we celebrate, we wanna eat! When we are down, we wanna eat! When its out of control, yes I know its bad. But in balance, food was designed by God to be enjoyed. And when you are bummed out, the last thing you wanna do is munch on a celery stick.
But since eating was out of the question, I decided to take my little coupon to the nail salon and get a much-overdue pedicure. My purple toenail polish had half chipped off, and my beach bum feet were raw and dry. They needed some luv.
As I got into the car the tears flowed. It just all came crashing out. My bottled frustration was exploding. Truth be told, I was angry.
Looking back if I had known we were going to be here this long I would have done more. But I did not know. It was not in our "plans." I have given it to the Lord many times. Had really tough days when I struggled. Had really great days when He taught me to count my blessings. It has been really hard to see so many of my friends find their dream homes. And to feel left in the dust, still asking God, still wondering why, still feeling overlooked. I'm truly happy for them, and rejoice! But it's hard.
When you have grown up in the church your whole life, immediately all the good christian lingo runs through your head. "When God closes a door, He opens a window!" or "It just means He has something better around the corner!" or "When life give you lemons, make lemonade!" Or the missionary martyrdom mindset takes over "think of other people in third world countries! They are living under a cardboard makeshift hut! You should be grateful!!!!"
This is when a good christian girl feels like giving the finger.
The truth of the matter is.... this was my trial. And it was hard for me. And no matter how I tried to polyanna my way out of the situation, it stung. I was frustrated. Weary. And angry.
I shot a text to our counselor. "Got any openings?" He said not today. So I round up the kids and head to the Rec Center. I need to at least blow off some steam. Kill something in that gym!!! I get in there and on the treadmill and get a text: "cancellation at noon." It was 10:40. So I crank up the treadmill and get in a few miles. Determined to sweat it off! And only pray I can find a last minute babysitter when its over.
I head home, take the quickest shower of my life, throw on some clothes and downgrade my makeup routine to a little tinted moisturizer and some mascara. Throw the kids in the car and find a sitter at the last minute.
I get there to his office right on the dime and say "ok. I'm a hot mess today. And I know. I'm going to talk 100 mph! You ready for this!?" He smiles. He knows me so well. "Go for it."
I spend 30 min spilling my guts, crying, getting angry, letting it all out. BOY does that feel good! If you have not ever done this, I dare you. Hire someone to sit there and let you yell at them. It's quite therapeutic.
I tell him my theology is messed up. I try to trust God and have faith, but when it all falls through I struggle to know if it was His perfect plan for it to not go through, or if it's the worker of evil or if other people simply acted and He will somehow work it out for His good....? I tell Him I am disappointed. Because God seems to be coming through for all my other friends BUT ME. I'm the lone one left in the dust. I tell him I am sick and tired of being left in the dust and disappointed. I tell him I am angry even for God not hearing my prayers and not seeming to care. I'm tired of being big, and tough, and brave and strong and over and over and over again getting a NO!! loud and clear. Just plan sick of it.
I finally pause to make sure he has gotten it all. And he has. His answers are always so simple, but so true. He has become a pastor/daddy/friend/counselor to us both this last year. He tells me, "Suzanne. I am so sorry you are hurting through this. It sucks. And ya know what? It's ok to be disappointed. To be angry. To feel let down. You need to just sit in that a while. Be honest with God."
I haaaaaaaaaate wallowing! He knows that! I hate whiners and wallowers! And oh my goodness, I certainly cannot tolerate that in myself!
"But how will you ever let God heal you? Comfort you? If you brush it aside or stuff it down and try to think positive and move on?"
Hmm. Good point.
He gently reminds me that this earth is not how it was meant to be. The Garden was how it was meant to be. Walking with our Savior in close communion. No suffering or hardships. All our needs and provisions met. Yet we are fallen. Broken. Our lives are shattered pieces. "In this life there WILL be tribulations...." We get off course when we think living the American dream is a sign of God's blessing. It's not.
"You are a young, modern day Job," he tells me. "Minus the children and husband dying." We laugh. "You have walked through a lot lately. For some reason God has you guys in a tough, hard, season of trials. I don't know why. But it's ok to hurt. And to know He is still God and nothing escapes His knowledge. Wanting a house is ok. It's a real, legitimate human thing. But does God love you more if He gives you a house? Less if He doesn't? Are all your friends truly experiencing the favor of God just because they have a house? Hardships come in many forms. All you are promised in this life is you will have hardship, and He will walk with you."
I finish sniffling, hug Mr.DaddyPastor, and walk out. Somehow nothing I don't know is rarely spoken in there, but I am pointed back to truth. Reminded of the basics. I swing through Starbucks to get an unsweetened iced coffee (in and of itself, a miracle I'm even willing to drink the black tar!) and just sit with it. Letting the pain sit with me.
It hurts. Even as I type this tears are swelling up in my eyes. It's hard to continue on when hope is deferred. It makes your heart sick. It's a let down. It feels the end will never be. But I am confident of this one thing: God is writing our story. And I'm coming to see that I may never get or do or be what I long for. We all have unfulfilled longings this side of heaven. My agenda has gone out the window many many times. And it will continue to. But more than anything I just want His hand in mine. Walking in the faith I know I cannot muster. Asking Him to help me make it to that finish line still looking to His face saying "please, be my faith!"
I know many believers go through hardships. Far harder than my own. Things I cannot imagine. I don't even know how they put one foot in front of the other. "In this life there WILL be tribulations..." As I read this morning in 1 John...
"For all that is in the world. the lust of the flesh and the lust of the eyes and the boastful pride of life, is not from the Father, but is from the world. The world is passing away, and also its lusts; but the one who does the will of God lives forever."
Living with eternity stamped on our eyes is near impossible. But reminders like these take us there. At the end of the day... at the end of our lives... all we have is Jesus. I know He will satisfy.
The plan was 1 year. Get established, on our feet, then look for a home. But with the lawsuit and the craziness of that, financially on paper after 1 year we could not get a loan. So 1 year became 2. After an almost 4 year battle, the law suit ended. Praise Jesus. Oh and can I say it again!? PRAISE JESUS. Finally, got approved for a small loan.
After that point several foreclosures or cheap houses popped up. We'd go look at them, get excited, then something would fall through. Disappointing.
Then the opportunity to buy an investment house presented itself. It would be a quick real estate flip. Came right on the heels of Dave getting his real estate licence, so seemed God was moving. We worked a few months to find a private investor. Felt like if we did the flip, it would give us more cash to put down on a house. It was kinda holding us up until we moved forward finding a house on our own.
A few days ago we got a call: the investment house had another buyer, so that door was closed.
Within an hour of that, we got an email from our agent/friend. A fantastic foreclosure. Looked too good to be true. In the midst of a crazy insane work week we scrambled to go look at it. It was only 10 min from where we are now. As I start walking around and through it, I am slowly seeing every little detail of of the longings of my heart... my little prayers offered up here and there.... a fireplace, a fenced in back yard, a big bonus/school room, a guest room (because we have people staying with us all.the.time!), kids rooms close to parents, open layout, garage, nice quiet neighborhood... you name it! It was in rough shape. Pretty much just a shell, ready to be loved on by two dreamers and visionaries that knew a boatload about construction. We saw a diamond in the rough. And the price was honestly TOO good to be true. In this area, you can't get peanuts for your dollar. Everything is insane expensive compared to Georgia.
So we moved forward on it. David worked all night putting together the contract. I drove around and ran errands with the kids like a crazy woman getting papers dropped off and signed.
It was all coming together in ways that seemed too good to be true. Our real estate friend was buying a new house and offered us her entire kitchen - pickled cabinets, granite countertops, and fancy stainless appliances just like I like, all for a fantastic barter deal. She even had brand new carpet she didn't need - perfect to replace the dirty ones in the bedrooms!
GOD WAS IN THIS! We were sure of it.
And we waited. A few days.
Then David texts me. "Call me when you get a minute."
So I did. And come to find out it had already had 5 or 6 cash offers, so they didn't even want to bother with someone who needed a loan.
No.
And like that *bam*. It didn't really hit me at first. "Ok" was all I said. But as I started getting ready to go, I felt the tears come close to my eyes.
I don't cry much. I used to cry like a crazy woman in my teens. The older I get, the less I cry. I cry more for other people/with other people than I do my own stuff. Somehow I manage to toughen up and bear my hardships like a spartan. Not necessarily something to be proud of. But after all the craziness of the rollercoaster our lives have been on, I have learned I can't cry about it all. Because I would probably be crying all the time.
It was already a tough day. We had not had one sit down meal at home with daddy the whole week. Catching up on work after being gone on vacation practically undid all the glories of vacation! haha :) I called David and said I was totally worn out. All the craziness of single parenting plus chopping veggies all day long for this dumb diet left me feeling physically and emotionally weak. He encouraged me to have sitter come and get out for a bit by myself.
Food is such an emotional pick-me-up. HAHA! I know they all say "don't eat for emotional reasons," but we all do. When we celebrate, we wanna eat! When we are down, we wanna eat! When its out of control, yes I know its bad. But in balance, food was designed by God to be enjoyed. And when you are bummed out, the last thing you wanna do is munch on a celery stick.
But since eating was out of the question, I decided to take my little coupon to the nail salon and get a much-overdue pedicure. My purple toenail polish had half chipped off, and my beach bum feet were raw and dry. They needed some luv.
As I got into the car the tears flowed. It just all came crashing out. My bottled frustration was exploding. Truth be told, I was angry.
Looking back if I had known we were going to be here this long I would have done more. But I did not know. It was not in our "plans." I have given it to the Lord many times. Had really tough days when I struggled. Had really great days when He taught me to count my blessings. It has been really hard to see so many of my friends find their dream homes. And to feel left in the dust, still asking God, still wondering why, still feeling overlooked. I'm truly happy for them, and rejoice! But it's hard.
When you have grown up in the church your whole life, immediately all the good christian lingo runs through your head. "When God closes a door, He opens a window!" or "It just means He has something better around the corner!" or "When life give you lemons, make lemonade!" Or the missionary martyrdom mindset takes over "think of other people in third world countries! They are living under a cardboard makeshift hut! You should be grateful!!!!"
This is when a good christian girl feels like giving the finger.
The truth of the matter is.... this was my trial. And it was hard for me. And no matter how I tried to polyanna my way out of the situation, it stung. I was frustrated. Weary. And angry.
I shot a text to our counselor. "Got any openings?" He said not today. So I round up the kids and head to the Rec Center. I need to at least blow off some steam. Kill something in that gym!!! I get in there and on the treadmill and get a text: "cancellation at noon." It was 10:40. So I crank up the treadmill and get in a few miles. Determined to sweat it off! And only pray I can find a last minute babysitter when its over.
I head home, take the quickest shower of my life, throw on some clothes and downgrade my makeup routine to a little tinted moisturizer and some mascara. Throw the kids in the car and find a sitter at the last minute.
I get there to his office right on the dime and say "ok. I'm a hot mess today. And I know. I'm going to talk 100 mph! You ready for this!?" He smiles. He knows me so well. "Go for it."
I spend 30 min spilling my guts, crying, getting angry, letting it all out. BOY does that feel good! If you have not ever done this, I dare you. Hire someone to sit there and let you yell at them. It's quite therapeutic.
I tell him my theology is messed up. I try to trust God and have faith, but when it all falls through I struggle to know if it was His perfect plan for it to not go through, or if it's the worker of evil or if other people simply acted and He will somehow work it out for His good....? I tell Him I am disappointed. Because God seems to be coming through for all my other friends BUT ME. I'm the lone one left in the dust. I tell him I am sick and tired of being left in the dust and disappointed. I tell him I am angry even for God not hearing my prayers and not seeming to care. I'm tired of being big, and tough, and brave and strong and over and over and over again getting a NO!! loud and clear. Just plan sick of it.
I finally pause to make sure he has gotten it all. And he has. His answers are always so simple, but so true. He has become a pastor/daddy/friend/counselor to us both this last year. He tells me, "Suzanne. I am so sorry you are hurting through this. It sucks. And ya know what? It's ok to be disappointed. To be angry. To feel let down. You need to just sit in that a while. Be honest with God."
I haaaaaaaaaate wallowing! He knows that! I hate whiners and wallowers! And oh my goodness, I certainly cannot tolerate that in myself!
"But how will you ever let God heal you? Comfort you? If you brush it aside or stuff it down and try to think positive and move on?"
Hmm. Good point.
He gently reminds me that this earth is not how it was meant to be. The Garden was how it was meant to be. Walking with our Savior in close communion. No suffering or hardships. All our needs and provisions met. Yet we are fallen. Broken. Our lives are shattered pieces. "In this life there WILL be tribulations...." We get off course when we think living the American dream is a sign of God's blessing. It's not.
"You are a young, modern day Job," he tells me. "Minus the children and husband dying." We laugh. "You have walked through a lot lately. For some reason God has you guys in a tough, hard, season of trials. I don't know why. But it's ok to hurt. And to know He is still God and nothing escapes His knowledge. Wanting a house is ok. It's a real, legitimate human thing. But does God love you more if He gives you a house? Less if He doesn't? Are all your friends truly experiencing the favor of God just because they have a house? Hardships come in many forms. All you are promised in this life is you will have hardship, and He will walk with you."
I finish sniffling, hug Mr.DaddyPastor, and walk out. Somehow nothing I don't know is rarely spoken in there, but I am pointed back to truth. Reminded of the basics. I swing through Starbucks to get an unsweetened iced coffee (in and of itself, a miracle I'm even willing to drink the black tar!) and just sit with it. Letting the pain sit with me.
It hurts. Even as I type this tears are swelling up in my eyes. It's hard to continue on when hope is deferred. It makes your heart sick. It's a let down. It feels the end will never be. But I am confident of this one thing: God is writing our story. And I'm coming to see that I may never get or do or be what I long for. We all have unfulfilled longings this side of heaven. My agenda has gone out the window many many times. And it will continue to. But more than anything I just want His hand in mine. Walking in the faith I know I cannot muster. Asking Him to help me make it to that finish line still looking to His face saying "please, be my faith!"
I know many believers go through hardships. Far harder than my own. Things I cannot imagine. I don't even know how they put one foot in front of the other. "In this life there WILL be tribulations..." As I read this morning in 1 John...
"For all that is in the world. the lust of the flesh and the lust of the eyes and the boastful pride of life, is not from the Father, but is from the world. The world is passing away, and also its lusts; but the one who does the will of God lives forever."
Living with eternity stamped on our eyes is near impossible. But reminders like these take us there. At the end of the day... at the end of our lives... all we have is Jesus. I know He will satisfy.
Wednesday, June 13, 2012
It's just the lettuce talking...
So the floors in my house had taken the form of a rather interesting science project. Oh yes - but of course! - "this counts as school!" (a phrase all too well known and frequently recited amongst homeschoolers). Yes, I'm pretty sure you could identify many cell walls with membranes, chloroplast, cytoplasm and a nucleus. (Be impressed. I remembered half of those terms on my own. The rest of them came from a quick google search. Oh glorious google.... making me appear knowledgeable....)
It was so overdue. In my efforts to live my life, spend more time with my children and others, and do what really matters, the floors had gotten shoved to the back burner. Long gone have been my perfectionistic take on housekeeping. The superwoman cape was beginning to collect dust in the corner. I have not baked bread, reorganized my closet, or sold anything on ebay in over a month. Impressive. Oh yes, be much impressed by my progress! The toilet has a RING in it! There are crusted-on black beans adorning the highchair! Protein shake spills down the face of the cabinets! Cobwebs behind the kitchen aid! And a concoction of sand, cheerios, glitter, dust, hair bands, and naturally dehydrated sweet potato bits all. over. my. floors.
It has been good. To let it go. Very unlike my triple-type-A personality. Has it bothered me? Yes. Have I sat on my butt more? Not a bit. Somehow I've managed to stay just as busy not getting to those things, but my mindset has been more carefree. More "embrace the moment." More aware of what matters. (I hear a hippie chic version of "they'll know we're Christians by our looooooove" serenading the backdrop of my story here....)
Anyway, I had HAD it. When you have to get a warm washcloth to scrub off the black off your feet at night before crawling into bed, you know its time. (ok, so maybe some of it came from running barefoot in the yard to rescue a child who, for kicks, had screwed their LIP into a sippe cup [true story]) but still. It was time.
So I pick the perfect opportunity! The morning after I went to bed at 3:15am! YEAH! I'm just wise like that.
I decide to mix it up a bit and start backwards. Our house isn't big, 1100sq feet. It feels entirely too small for us most days, but when it comes to mopping, it seems WAY too big. The WHOLE house is hardwoods. Oh how I long for carpet in the bedrooms! Plush underfoot, not to mention a breeze to vacuum.
Ok, so plan: kids corralled in the living room with an episode of Sid the Science Kid (since after all, our floor unit study was in the subject) and I would begin on the bedrooms and hallway. That way by the time Asher was melting for a morning nap, his room would be dry, and I could re-situate kids. Brilliant. All seemed to be going quite well. I was thrilled with my progress! Then 11:00am hit me like a ton of bricks. I had failed to have breakfast. I never do that! HUGE breakfast fan! Probably because we are on the Maker's Diet. Day 6. And by now, I can promise you, I have almost forgotten what it means to eat. I think the handful of nuts and berries we are allotted are actually starting to escape my mind. But yes. I did hear my stomach growl, and quite loud. I ran into the kitchen to scramble up my spinach, peppers, onions, and 2 eggs. By then, the floors were dry in the back and YES, baby boy to bed! So, so impressed with myself. Yet again.
Then I decide to send the girls in the back yard while I tackle the kitchen/living/dining room. I start sweeping the kitchen, and mop a few rows and then McKayla comes bursting in, as she always does, with a bladder so full it must be relieved right now. Yes we've had the whole "maybe you should try before you have to go that bad?" talk. But to her, life is a serious game of playing hard, no time for unnecessary work! Until there is no way to avoid it any longer. So therefore, the intense declaration "I gotta go potty!" There I stand, mop in hand, realizing I had just mopped the sole lone passageway to el bano. I find my frustration mounting as I am finally getting a hold on these floors and little black tar baby feet start running in! I grab her up and am like "you can't go! you'll have to hold it!" But the look on her face says otherwise. In the moment my reasoning failed to compute that mopping up a few footprints would be far easier than a half of a day's worth of sippie cups exploding. In a stroke of brilliance, I run to the garage to see if I see the potty training chair out there, I'm digging around looking everywhere for the little happy frog kiddie toilet while McKayla is doing the potty dance and a look of pain and panic is on her face. Dangit, why do I ALWAYS see the dern thing when I am out there and the one time I need it, it's no where to be found!?!?!? "Well why don't you just go in the YARD!?" Wow Mom. Stooping to an all time low. How far ya gonna take this? What's next? "Why don't you just construct a toilet of out sticks and neighborhood yard debris and then roll up the whole tree of maple leaves into a toilet paper roll to wipe with?!" Finally I just get upset. It happened. The "my cleaning mission above all" takes over. I'm irritated by the situation, and start scolding her for not going potty BEFORE I started mopping! (like a 3 year old would really have that kind of foresight!?) Then in an effort to rush her along to the bathroom, because I see no other way, she stumbles and falls. Bursts into tears (and I am just praying nothing else bursts!). Great. She looks at me brokenhearted. I think she thought I pushed her. I frustratedly try to tell her I didn't push her, she fell, pushing would be mean. Kinda like, oh I don't know, someone that won't let their poor child go potty because you'd rather have clean floors? Anyway, I finally send her on her way and watch as one little footprint after another tramples through my precious sudsy strokes. I hear her whimpering in the bathroom.
I then see what a looser with a capitol "L" on the forehead I am.
She heads back outside and I half-sincerely say "I'm sorry McKayla, please just go play." Then with my head full of "this is what she will have to tell her shrink about when she is grown" thoughts, I continue on to finish the dang floors. I then decide instead of sweeping the whole thing I will sweep a section, then mop it. Somehow it felt like I was going faster?? I failed to calculate the fact that as I swept the area next to the wet area, the grime would mix with the edge of the wet therefore turning my broom into a smearing paintbrush of gunk. Ok. Bad idea. It's all a bad idea....
A CLEAN HOUSE IS A BAD IDEA!!!!!!
Why do I even try? If I do it, I don't put people first. If I don't do it, we start to lose our sanity! Or godliness. Since cleanliness is next to... yeah. What the heck am I supposed to do!!? As always, I try to look for a 3rd option. That's what smart people do. The only thing that pops into my head is some glowing illustration from a child training book on how your 2 and 4 year old's should have hair tied back in handkerchiefs, brooms in hand, merrily sweeping along with mom as we do the leprechaun side toe tap of magic cleaning bliss and we are all in it together!
--REALITY--
Applause for you all that have that homestead image down. But sorry, nope. Just not happening. And before you judge and think I do all the work and my kids don't help and blah blah please rest assured they have lots of chores around here and we are doing our best to instill good work ethic. Yea and amen.
I mean for one thing *I* can barely get the whole ill-designed broom sweeping the crumbs into the dustpan action. I mean don't we all chase the little remnants of that pile around the room about 11 times until we get most of it up!? And I can't imagine what that would be like if the broom was 2 or 3 times your height. So there. I'm a realist.
But the heart of it. OH YES. The heart of it. I put my floors above my relationship with my daughter. Pure and simple. No way around it. It doesn't matter that I had some "glowing record" of a month (or two?) of not being the cleaning Nazi and investing in my child. I let it go! I failed. I flopped. I was wrong.
I finished "polishing my idol" and threw on my flip flops and went outside to have a little heart to heart. Then I recalled how I had practically slammed the door in Gabrielle's face when she opened it and was about to come in for something. Granted I had already told her not to come in and the disobedience had to be dealt with, but the trailer trash momma's-gonna-slam-the-cardboard-door-in-yo-face action had no excuse. Really. I sat down at the bottom of the slide and called them around. "Mommy really messed up. I'm sorry for getting angry. I was wrong. I love you more than floors. Will you forgive me?"
Kids are always so stinkin' gracious. Thank God.
I have felt more anal and irritable this week being on this dumb salad diet. I know it's good. It's a cleanse. I've made the choice. But I have to watch myself. When I get hungry, I'm worse than a man. No joke. But this wasn't just the lettuce talking. This was me. RAW ME. Me in need of Jesus. Me in need of a Savior!
I honestly have been asking God to show up. To prove His love to me, to make it real, to help me sense He is near. This last year has been a tough one. Maybe I'll write on that sometime. But I find this week He is starting to do some crazy things that seems He just might be answering that prayer. I long to feel it and see it in my own heart more clearly so I can pass that on to my children. Because if it's not real from within, no plastic smile or hug will make it seem true. As I look to my Father to say "can ya just give me a hug?!", I find myself realizing that's more and more of what my kids need. I'm so thankful several month's back He started helping me love them in a whole new way. But days like today, I still need reminders. It's easy for me to slip back into productivity mode and fail to see what really matters. My children need to know they are not overlooked because I have a lot of other stuff going on. Maybe that's because honestly, that's how I feel a lot in my heart. God seems so stinkin' busy blessing and doing for and answering prayers for everyone around me, I feel He's too busy for mine. Silly, I know. Childish, yes. But faith is hard. If it truly is the evidence of things not seen, then I have a perfect opportunity! Because I ain't seein' a lot of action! Mhmmmmm! (Queen Latifah voice, there). Haven't for a while. And I'm usually ok with the "no's". I choose to believe He has a better plan. But it still hurts, after a while. I know God has me on a journey right now. I know it, know it, know it, down to the core of my soul. I feel I can barely wait for the "breakthrough" moment, when my soul bursts open into His light and He comes rushing in and His purposes and His love is revealed. Time and time again He has done this in my life. It's not always something dramatic, but I always know it's Him. I feel I am on the verge of Him scooping me up in His arms and snuggling me close and tearfully saying "I've heard you all along! I've loved you all along! I didn't ever have floors to mop..."
He has made us His priority. What a crazy thought. He gave His whole life up for us to live. I'm grateful for that truth. And I truly pray He continues me on this journey of finding His heart.
Last week I had the chance to hear Ann Voskamp, author of "One Thousand Gifts", along with some talented singers Christa Wells and Nichole Whitt. This song really touched me. It's where I am.
It was so overdue. In my efforts to live my life, spend more time with my children and others, and do what really matters, the floors had gotten shoved to the back burner. Long gone have been my perfectionistic take on housekeeping. The superwoman cape was beginning to collect dust in the corner. I have not baked bread, reorganized my closet, or sold anything on ebay in over a month. Impressive. Oh yes, be much impressed by my progress! The toilet has a RING in it! There are crusted-on black beans adorning the highchair! Protein shake spills down the face of the cabinets! Cobwebs behind the kitchen aid! And a concoction of sand, cheerios, glitter, dust, hair bands, and naturally dehydrated sweet potato bits all. over. my. floors.
It has been good. To let it go. Very unlike my triple-type-A personality. Has it bothered me? Yes. Have I sat on my butt more? Not a bit. Somehow I've managed to stay just as busy not getting to those things, but my mindset has been more carefree. More "embrace the moment." More aware of what matters. (I hear a hippie chic version of "they'll know we're Christians by our looooooove" serenading the backdrop of my story here....)
Anyway, I had HAD it. When you have to get a warm washcloth to scrub off the black off your feet at night before crawling into bed, you know its time. (ok, so maybe some of it came from running barefoot in the yard to rescue a child who, for kicks, had screwed their LIP into a sippe cup [true story]) but still. It was time.
So I pick the perfect opportunity! The morning after I went to bed at 3:15am! YEAH! I'm just wise like that.
I decide to mix it up a bit and start backwards. Our house isn't big, 1100sq feet. It feels entirely too small for us most days, but when it comes to mopping, it seems WAY too big. The WHOLE house is hardwoods. Oh how I long for carpet in the bedrooms! Plush underfoot, not to mention a breeze to vacuum.
Ok, so plan: kids corralled in the living room with an episode of Sid the Science Kid (since after all, our floor unit study was in the subject) and I would begin on the bedrooms and hallway. That way by the time Asher was melting for a morning nap, his room would be dry, and I could re-situate kids. Brilliant. All seemed to be going quite well. I was thrilled with my progress! Then 11:00am hit me like a ton of bricks. I had failed to have breakfast. I never do that! HUGE breakfast fan! Probably because we are on the Maker's Diet. Day 6. And by now, I can promise you, I have almost forgotten what it means to eat. I think the handful of nuts and berries we are allotted are actually starting to escape my mind. But yes. I did hear my stomach growl, and quite loud. I ran into the kitchen to scramble up my spinach, peppers, onions, and 2 eggs. By then, the floors were dry in the back and YES, baby boy to bed! So, so impressed with myself. Yet again.
Then I decide to send the girls in the back yard while I tackle the kitchen/living/dining room. I start sweeping the kitchen, and mop a few rows and then McKayla comes bursting in, as she always does, with a bladder so full it must be relieved right now. Yes we've had the whole "maybe you should try before you have to go that bad?" talk. But to her, life is a serious game of playing hard, no time for unnecessary work! Until there is no way to avoid it any longer. So therefore, the intense declaration "I gotta go potty!" There I stand, mop in hand, realizing I had just mopped the sole lone passageway to el bano. I find my frustration mounting as I am finally getting a hold on these floors and little black tar baby feet start running in! I grab her up and am like "you can't go! you'll have to hold it!" But the look on her face says otherwise. In the moment my reasoning failed to compute that mopping up a few footprints would be far easier than a half of a day's worth of sippie cups exploding. In a stroke of brilliance, I run to the garage to see if I see the potty training chair out there, I'm digging around looking everywhere for the little happy frog kiddie toilet while McKayla is doing the potty dance and a look of pain and panic is on her face. Dangit, why do I ALWAYS see the dern thing when I am out there and the one time I need it, it's no where to be found!?!?!? "Well why don't you just go in the YARD!?" Wow Mom. Stooping to an all time low. How far ya gonna take this? What's next? "Why don't you just construct a toilet of out sticks and neighborhood yard debris and then roll up the whole tree of maple leaves into a toilet paper roll to wipe with?!" Finally I just get upset. It happened. The "my cleaning mission above all" takes over. I'm irritated by the situation, and start scolding her for not going potty BEFORE I started mopping! (like a 3 year old would really have that kind of foresight!?) Then in an effort to rush her along to the bathroom, because I see no other way, she stumbles and falls. Bursts into tears (and I am just praying nothing else bursts!). Great. She looks at me brokenhearted. I think she thought I pushed her. I frustratedly try to tell her I didn't push her, she fell, pushing would be mean. Kinda like, oh I don't know, someone that won't let their poor child go potty because you'd rather have clean floors? Anyway, I finally send her on her way and watch as one little footprint after another tramples through my precious sudsy strokes. I hear her whimpering in the bathroom.
I then see what a looser with a capitol "L" on the forehead I am.
She heads back outside and I half-sincerely say "I'm sorry McKayla, please just go play." Then with my head full of "this is what she will have to tell her shrink about when she is grown" thoughts, I continue on to finish the dang floors. I then decide instead of sweeping the whole thing I will sweep a section, then mop it. Somehow it felt like I was going faster?? I failed to calculate the fact that as I swept the area next to the wet area, the grime would mix with the edge of the wet therefore turning my broom into a smearing paintbrush of gunk. Ok. Bad idea. It's all a bad idea....
A CLEAN HOUSE IS A BAD IDEA!!!!!!
Why do I even try? If I do it, I don't put people first. If I don't do it, we start to lose our sanity! Or godliness. Since cleanliness is next to... yeah. What the heck am I supposed to do!!? As always, I try to look for a 3rd option. That's what smart people do. The only thing that pops into my head is some glowing illustration from a child training book on how your 2 and 4 year old's should have hair tied back in handkerchiefs, brooms in hand, merrily sweeping along with mom as we do the leprechaun side toe tap of magic cleaning bliss and we are all in it together!
--REALITY--
Applause for you all that have that homestead image down. But sorry, nope. Just not happening. And before you judge and think I do all the work and my kids don't help and blah blah please rest assured they have lots of chores around here and we are doing our best to instill good work ethic. Yea and amen.
I mean for one thing *I* can barely get the whole ill-designed broom sweeping the crumbs into the dustpan action. I mean don't we all chase the little remnants of that pile around the room about 11 times until we get most of it up!? And I can't imagine what that would be like if the broom was 2 or 3 times your height. So there. I'm a realist.
But the heart of it. OH YES. The heart of it. I put my floors above my relationship with my daughter. Pure and simple. No way around it. It doesn't matter that I had some "glowing record" of a month (or two?) of not being the cleaning Nazi and investing in my child. I let it go! I failed. I flopped. I was wrong.
I finished "polishing my idol" and threw on my flip flops and went outside to have a little heart to heart. Then I recalled how I had practically slammed the door in Gabrielle's face when she opened it and was about to come in for something. Granted I had already told her not to come in and the disobedience had to be dealt with, but the trailer trash momma's-gonna-slam-the-cardboard-door-in-yo-face action had no excuse. Really. I sat down at the bottom of the slide and called them around. "Mommy really messed up. I'm sorry for getting angry. I was wrong. I love you more than floors. Will you forgive me?"
Kids are always so stinkin' gracious. Thank God.
I have felt more anal and irritable this week being on this dumb salad diet. I know it's good. It's a cleanse. I've made the choice. But I have to watch myself. When I get hungry, I'm worse than a man. No joke. But this wasn't just the lettuce talking. This was me. RAW ME. Me in need of Jesus. Me in need of a Savior!
I honestly have been asking God to show up. To prove His love to me, to make it real, to help me sense He is near. This last year has been a tough one. Maybe I'll write on that sometime. But I find this week He is starting to do some crazy things that seems He just might be answering that prayer. I long to feel it and see it in my own heart more clearly so I can pass that on to my children. Because if it's not real from within, no plastic smile or hug will make it seem true. As I look to my Father to say "can ya just give me a hug?!", I find myself realizing that's more and more of what my kids need. I'm so thankful several month's back He started helping me love them in a whole new way. But days like today, I still need reminders. It's easy for me to slip back into productivity mode and fail to see what really matters. My children need to know they are not overlooked because I have a lot of other stuff going on. Maybe that's because honestly, that's how I feel a lot in my heart. God seems so stinkin' busy blessing and doing for and answering prayers for everyone around me, I feel He's too busy for mine. Silly, I know. Childish, yes. But faith is hard. If it truly is the evidence of things not seen, then I have a perfect opportunity! Because I ain't seein' a lot of action! Mhmmmmm! (Queen Latifah voice, there). Haven't for a while. And I'm usually ok with the "no's". I choose to believe He has a better plan. But it still hurts, after a while. I know God has me on a journey right now. I know it, know it, know it, down to the core of my soul. I feel I can barely wait for the "breakthrough" moment, when my soul bursts open into His light and He comes rushing in and His purposes and His love is revealed. Time and time again He has done this in my life. It's not always something dramatic, but I always know it's Him. I feel I am on the verge of Him scooping me up in His arms and snuggling me close and tearfully saying "I've heard you all along! I've loved you all along! I didn't ever have floors to mop..."
He has made us His priority. What a crazy thought. He gave His whole life up for us to live. I'm grateful for that truth. And I truly pray He continues me on this journey of finding His heart.
Last week I had the chance to hear Ann Voskamp, author of "One Thousand Gifts", along with some talented singers Christa Wells and Nichole Whitt. This song really touched me. It's where I am.
Bare feet stepping on glass
We break along life’s paths
Our fear and loss, we bring it all to you
Soul-breather, making all things new
You’re making all things new
We come in pieces
We come in fragments
We come discolored
To the foot of the cross
Our Maker sees us
All that we have been
Bonds us together
The Image of God
(Image of God, Christa Wells & Nicole Witt http://www.christawellsmusic.com/)
The pieces, the fragments and pieces. The discolorations. The fear, the loss. He owns it all. And I truly trust He's creating a beautiful stained-glass mosaic of it all. (that's my attempt to be creative and not use the typical "tapestry" illustration...) But it is true. I sense He is near, and I look for His hand of love. Seems that is His theme for me... for all of us... after all, it is the greatest, even above faith and hope.
Oh Jesus, may we be lovers.
Thursday, May 24, 2012
Beautiful Life
"I'm on the ledge. I'm just sayin', Momma's ON. THE. LEDGE."
Not always so desperate. But yes, I was having a phone convo with my man 2 days ago at 4:30pm and it had been quite a day. Anything that could be spilt, broken, bruised, challenging, or loud, WAS. I was like geeeeeez! Why the sudden "I'm gonna lose my mind!!!!" feeling!? I was ready for happy pills, I tell ya, in that moment! The little men in white coats could come and retrieve me, after all, a quiet, clean, padded cell sounded like a FREAKIN' VACATION about now!!!!!
~breathe~
My amazing guy wisely said "you need a break. It's been a while. You're burnt out." I was quick to seize the opportunity by saying "HEyyyyyyyyy there's a groupon deal at Aveda for a facial today super cheap and..." before I could finish he said "DO IT." Guess he figured $49 was pretty dang inexpensive to buy back my sanity ;) Cheaper than a therapist! :D
The house was getting to me. Crumbs crunching underfoot. Food splattered on every hard surface. Toys strewn throughout. Paperwork piling up on the desk. Dishes covering the counter. And to think, I did not sit down all day! I don't ever turn the tv on, read a magazine, or talk on the phone. Between homeschooling, and cooking, and training, and errands, and laundry, and and and.... it just wasn't happening. I just couldn't get it all done. And yet I beat myself up about it. What is wrong with me? Why can't I be Martha Stewart, Barefoot Contessa, and Super Nanny all in one!? And yes. Classic me. Overachieving. Trying to make the superwoman cape FIT FIT FIT! I drive myself hard. I push hard. In every area. And as is classic with that mentality I do crash and burn. But it's good. It brings me back to the feet of Jesus, reminded I can't do it all in my own strength. As a matter of fact, I can't do it at all.
Rest. Peace. Trust.
Bliss came over me as let someone else scrub my face. Why is that so magical!?! She starts grilling me.... "so when was your last facial?"
"Bbbbbbbbhhhhssshhhhh, I don't know." I'm thinking.... do drugstore scrubs count!?! But I don't care if she thinks I'm an uncared for walking epidermis, I take no offense. And it really isn't important to me how well she improves my skin tone, I just want someone else to pamper me for a bit. To do something for me. How glorious is that! To lie there and someone bring a warm washcloth to your face!?!!
This is sad.
And so, so lame now that I am thinking about it! But wow. It just did the trick. I came home, sleepy and drunk on peace, to a man looking rather studly in his jeans and t-shirt, muscles bulging as he swished the water around, mopping up the crumbs of my life. Of my heart.
Hero.
Then last night was girl's night out. Two nights out in a row?! I must confess I felt rather guilty. I checked to make sure he was cool with it, and like a cucumber, he was. Not cuz he's a roll over dead kinda guy, but because he values what I do and values my sanity! :0)
Sweet women. Fruity drinks. Going deep. Shedding tears. Way too loud and obnoxious. Laughing hysterically. Whispering our secrets. Just like little girls, we are. And how glorious it is to be that for just a few moments! The mommy cloth comes off and we are just us. Just individuals. Just girls.
REFUEL! I thank God for putting me in a place with so many amazing women. In many different circles. That I connect with on many different levels. I've never had that and truly cherish it. It's a community of support and what a gift that is!
I read an article the other day about how full time stay at home mom's tend to be the most depressed of women, according to a recent Gallop poll. They were saying the happiest were those that worked part time/mommy the other. I can see why! They feel fulfilled on many different levels. The article was urging stay at home moms to make sure they are living balanced. Not to cocoon. Connecting with community. Service opportunities. Education advancement. Hobbies/passions. I realized that the reason I am not on a daily dose of whiskey, prescription drugs, and bon-bon's is because the Lord has truly helped me to be able to touch on many of those areas. And when it gets out of balance, yes, Momma's on the ledge! I am more than just a Mom. It's a HUGE part of my calling right now and one that is very consuming and I am very passionate about, but I am also an individual. If I wrap myself up completely in my children, they will be grown and gone one day and I will crumble. I've seen it happen. It wasn't meant to be! My identity is in CHRIST. And living out who He made me to be.
Life right now is busy and crazy. It's a total vortex of insanity, inability, and bliss. I fear one day I will wake up and it will have passed. I don't just fear, I know. And my heart will break to go back to the days of popsicle juice dripping down onto the tutu or the cheerio encrusted face smushing onto mine to give me a "kiss." :)
This morning I woke up and reached for my Bible and Jesus Calling. I read the words.... "Bring Me your mind for rest and renewal. Let Me infuse My presence into your thoughts. As your mind stops racing, your body relaxes and you regain awareness of Me. This awareness is vital to your spiritual well-being; it is your lifeline, spiritually speaking."
So good for me to be reminded of! In HIS presence is the fullness of joy! (Ps 16:11) I have to slow down. To quit trying. To let Him infuse me that I can carry out His calling and His purposes for my life.
Just then 2 sweet girls came into my room. They crawled up in bed and Gabrielle said "read us some of the Bible you are reading."
Now that's pure bliss. I dare say, even more than the warm washcloth treatment!
I am blessed. And I know it. As Darryl Worley put it:
I love this crazy, tragic,
Sometimes almost magic,
Awful, beautiful life.
Not always so desperate. But yes, I was having a phone convo with my man 2 days ago at 4:30pm and it had been quite a day. Anything that could be spilt, broken, bruised, challenging, or loud, WAS. I was like geeeeeez! Why the sudden "I'm gonna lose my mind!!!!" feeling!? I was ready for happy pills, I tell ya, in that moment! The little men in white coats could come and retrieve me, after all, a quiet, clean, padded cell sounded like a FREAKIN' VACATION about now!!!!!
~breathe~
My amazing guy wisely said "you need a break. It's been a while. You're burnt out." I was quick to seize the opportunity by saying "HEyyyyyyyyy there's a groupon deal at Aveda for a facial today super cheap and..." before I could finish he said "DO IT." Guess he figured $49 was pretty dang inexpensive to buy back my sanity ;) Cheaper than a therapist! :D
The house was getting to me. Crumbs crunching underfoot. Food splattered on every hard surface. Toys strewn throughout. Paperwork piling up on the desk. Dishes covering the counter. And to think, I did not sit down all day! I don't ever turn the tv on, read a magazine, or talk on the phone. Between homeschooling, and cooking, and training, and errands, and laundry, and and and.... it just wasn't happening. I just couldn't get it all done. And yet I beat myself up about it. What is wrong with me? Why can't I be Martha Stewart, Barefoot Contessa, and Super Nanny all in one!? And yes. Classic me. Overachieving. Trying to make the superwoman cape FIT FIT FIT! I drive myself hard. I push hard. In every area. And as is classic with that mentality I do crash and burn. But it's good. It brings me back to the feet of Jesus, reminded I can't do it all in my own strength. As a matter of fact, I can't do it at all.
Rest. Peace. Trust.
Bliss came over me as let someone else scrub my face. Why is that so magical!?! She starts grilling me.... "so when was your last facial?"
"Bbbbbbbbhhhhssshhhhh, I don't know." I'm thinking.... do drugstore scrubs count!?! But I don't care if she thinks I'm an uncared for walking epidermis, I take no offense. And it really isn't important to me how well she improves my skin tone, I just want someone else to pamper me for a bit. To do something for me. How glorious is that! To lie there and someone bring a warm washcloth to your face!?!!
This is sad.
And so, so lame now that I am thinking about it! But wow. It just did the trick. I came home, sleepy and drunk on peace, to a man looking rather studly in his jeans and t-shirt, muscles bulging as he swished the water around, mopping up the crumbs of my life. Of my heart.
Hero.
Then last night was girl's night out. Two nights out in a row?! I must confess I felt rather guilty. I checked to make sure he was cool with it, and like a cucumber, he was. Not cuz he's a roll over dead kinda guy, but because he values what I do and values my sanity! :0)
Sweet women. Fruity drinks. Going deep. Shedding tears. Way too loud and obnoxious. Laughing hysterically. Whispering our secrets. Just like little girls, we are. And how glorious it is to be that for just a few moments! The mommy cloth comes off and we are just us. Just individuals. Just girls.
REFUEL! I thank God for putting me in a place with so many amazing women. In many different circles. That I connect with on many different levels. I've never had that and truly cherish it. It's a community of support and what a gift that is!
I read an article the other day about how full time stay at home mom's tend to be the most depressed of women, according to a recent Gallop poll. They were saying the happiest were those that worked part time/mommy the other. I can see why! They feel fulfilled on many different levels. The article was urging stay at home moms to make sure they are living balanced. Not to cocoon. Connecting with community. Service opportunities. Education advancement. Hobbies/passions. I realized that the reason I am not on a daily dose of whiskey, prescription drugs, and bon-bon's is because the Lord has truly helped me to be able to touch on many of those areas. And when it gets out of balance, yes, Momma's on the ledge! I am more than just a Mom. It's a HUGE part of my calling right now and one that is very consuming and I am very passionate about, but I am also an individual. If I wrap myself up completely in my children, they will be grown and gone one day and I will crumble. I've seen it happen. It wasn't meant to be! My identity is in CHRIST. And living out who He made me to be.
Life right now is busy and crazy. It's a total vortex of insanity, inability, and bliss. I fear one day I will wake up and it will have passed. I don't just fear, I know. And my heart will break to go back to the days of popsicle juice dripping down onto the tutu or the cheerio encrusted face smushing onto mine to give me a "kiss." :)
This morning I woke up and reached for my Bible and Jesus Calling. I read the words.... "Bring Me your mind for rest and renewal. Let Me infuse My presence into your thoughts. As your mind stops racing, your body relaxes and you regain awareness of Me. This awareness is vital to your spiritual well-being; it is your lifeline, spiritually speaking."
So good for me to be reminded of! In HIS presence is the fullness of joy! (Ps 16:11) I have to slow down. To quit trying. To let Him infuse me that I can carry out His calling and His purposes for my life.
Just then 2 sweet girls came into my room. They crawled up in bed and Gabrielle said "read us some of the Bible you are reading."
Now that's pure bliss. I dare say, even more than the warm washcloth treatment!
I am blessed. And I know it. As Darryl Worley put it:
I love this crazy, tragic,
Sometimes almost magic,
Awful, beautiful life.
Wednesday, May 16, 2012
I can't stop loving you...
So it started this morning with a simple command – lets clean out the car. I had no idea what was in store ahead. The whining started. “But I don’t wanna clean out the car!” WOW. We all know the rules around here. Obedience and diligence. We all work together. The rest of us worked hard on our section and got it done within a few minutes. Gabrielle continued to whine, complain, and state how upset she was about this horrible chore. Oh what a tyrant of a mom I am!
The rest of us came inside. Started cleaning up in here. She came in a few times, complaining still she didn’t want to do it. I kept sending her back out there to finish the job. Relentless is my name. Finally she came in and declared she would NOT do it, proceeded to hit and swing at me and yelled “I hate you with all my heart!” WOW. Words not ever spoken around here. I would be lying to say it didn’t hurt. But I knew it wasn’t about me, it was about her rebellion. Not liking her job. Fighting authority. She was disciplined for her actions and words. We had a good long talk about our anger and our actions. Where it can lead. What God calls a fool and what He has to say about anger and rage out of control. The dangers of it. His mercy and self control available to us. How she is making her own decisions and will have to live with the consequences. A half-hearted “sorry” was said; I knew it hadn’t penetrated her heart. I prayed for her heart. Hugged her. And sent back out to finish.
Came in again. Got upset. Given the command again. Sent back outside. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat.
I purposed to remain calm. To not let it affect MY emotions. To speak firmly but without anger (after all, how hypocritical would that be!?)
A warning was given: we will be having snack in 5 minutes. I know how snack time is precious to her. I said if she was done by then, she could enjoy it with us. If not, she would miss out. She got upset, stormed out the door and disappeared for 10 min. So in keeping with my word, snack had been served and she had missed out. She went out to pout. Then finally decided to finish the job, and she did. Brought in the bag of trash from the back seat. She saw McKayla throwing away her yogurt cup and said “can I have my snack now?”
I paused. My heart stopped. I knew if I gave in, it would certainly ease my morning battles. I was ready to quit. Weary. Ready to move on for goodness sake! But I knew it would be wrong. She had wasted her time pouting and being angry. I could not let it go. It would not be best for her soul.
“I’m sorry. You missed snack because you chose to be angry and pitch a fit. Just like I said, snack was served in 5 minutes.” This unleashed all sorts of tears and anger and frustration. Suddenly it was my fault she had missed snack. But it was re-explained to her that SHE had made the decision, and therefore SHE had missed out. Her disobedience hurt her own self. Anger. Frustration. Rage.
She called daddy to “tell on me.” That always amuses me. Like we are not a team? She told him the whole story, conveniently omitting her disobedience for being the reason she missed snack. After whining to him for 5 min, she handed the phone to me. “Just love on her a bit. Just give her a hug.”
Now MY rage was about to be unleashed. I had been the most loving mom on the BLOCK today!!!! I sewanee, if I had not prayerfully been in check of my attitude all morning I could easily have dealt with the whole 1 ½ hour scenario QUITE differently. Ohhhh my flesh would have loved it. It would have felt good. After all who would put up with such a selfish brat with SUCH GRACE!!!!???
I then battled in my heart.
“We do grace.”
One of our family motto’s that hang on the wall. “Yes, but what’s the line between showing grace – unconditional love – and coddling a child and teaching them that they can treat others any way they want in their anger and it not breech the relationship? Their actions not have an effect!?” I don’t want children that grow up thinking it is the responsibility of others to bridge the gap and show love when they have been the ones to offend?
Oh God! Mommyhood is overwhelming. Heart issues are beyond my ability to reach.
Yet your wisdom. You promise is there. Is given, when we ask.
Breathe in, and out.
I hesitate.
“Gabrielle, time to do school.” It truly was. I wanted to forget it for the day, after all I had already fought enough battles, I did not want to fight the subtraction battle. I wearily pulled out her chair. She proclaimed she didn’t want to do school. She didn’t want to sit there. She threw her book. Threw her pencil. Fight, fight, fight. I calmly put it back, disciplined, reminded her of the need for obedience. Oh boy, did I know. In my heart I was throwing more than a pencil! But to my Father, I must be obedient. I must train. I must teach. I must be patient.
I looked at her. Miserable. Sulken back in her chair. One butt cheek on the chair and one hanging off. As little “obedient” as she could get away with. My heart yearned for a breakthrough. That heart of stone to shatter. Truth to bring life and softness. I swallowed. It came over me. I could hardly believe the words I was uttering….
“Can I give you a hug?”
Everything in me wanted to smack some sense into her. Everything in me wanted to push her away. To say “fine be that way! Enjoy juvy hall in 8 years, punk!” But grace reached into my heart to reach out to hers. Her response was firm and definite.
“I don’t want love.”
Just like that she said it. What I knew all along. I have a little girl that is very “by the book”. She’d rather follow the letter of the law. Succeed with perfection. High expectations of herself and others. But unconditional love?! No. It did not make sense with her mental mathematical charts of x+y=z. It was irrational. Outlandish. And she did not compute. Not only did she not compute, but rejected it outright as blasphemy to her internal rationale.
Here it was, I knew it. The chance. What she needed. For her actions, yes she had to deal with the consequences. I had not let them slide. But now for her heart? The battle began.
“But I can’t help it. I am full of love for you.”
“I don’t want to be loved!”
“But I can’t stop! My heart is beating with love for you!”
“Just stop, just stop it!”
“Oh but I can’t!”
“I don’t need your love!”
“I will never stop loving you.”
“Just stop, just stop, I don’t WANT TO BE LOVED!”
“I will always love you.”
“I don’t want you to love me!”
“But you’re mine, I will always love you.”
“Don’t!”
“It doesn’t matter what you do or say. I will always. Always. Always love you. Because you’re mine.”
This dialogue carried on for 10-12 minutes. Over, and over, and over again. I began to weep. I knew what was happening here. What I was hearing. What I was saying. The same dialogue we have with Jesus. We fight it. We buck it. We don’t need it. We are fine without it. We don’t deserve it. We cannot earn it. We don’t understand it. We don’t want it.
And yet. He says: I will never. stop. loving. you. I can’t. I won’t. You can’t escape it. No matter what you do or say or feel, it’s there. Washing over you. Enveloping you. Holding you. Your actions don’t define my love. My love is SET on you.
After the tug of war between the love and the rejecting carried on, finally, finally, oh sweet finally…. She melted. Into my arms. And said “I want you to love me.”
We both cried. And cried. I called out “oh Jesus! Thank you! Thank you for showing us this kind of lavish love! No matter what! Lord Jesus: you were both obedient and full of love. Obedient to your Father – not wanting the cross but obeying to it’s call. And you were full of love. While mocked and scorned and belittled and hated you died and loved while we did not. Could not. Lord, please, give Gabrielle a heart for obedience and love as you have! Let us see your example and live by it. And thank you….. Thank you that when we fight and push away as little children because we are ashamed, or independent, or confused, that you never ever EVER stop pursuing us with a love that says ‘but I can’t stop.’”
After that she looked up at me with a heart that I knew had been reached. She had a refreshed, peaceful, tear stained face. Understanding had come to her heart. And yet she still looked up with awe at the great mystery of such love. As do I.
It makes me think of this verse:
Matt 23:37 – “Jerusalem, Jerusalem, who kills the prophets and stones those who are sent to her! How often I wanted to gather your children together, the way a hen gathers her chicks under her wings, and you were unwilling.”
How often! Yet we would not. He sent His ambassadors in to tell of His truth and His love! But we were unwilling. Yet He still says:
Jer 31:3 – “I have loved you with an everlasting love; Therefore I have drawn you with lovingkindness.”
Rom 5:8 – “But God commends his love toward us, in that, while we were yet sinners, Christ died for us.”
I am blown away by a fresh reminder of this inexplicable love. The chance to be washed over by it in my own heart. And the opportunity to lavish it on my children. Above all, I do not seek perfection. You will not find my children in a row, with matching clothes, not daring to step out of line for fear of death. I do require obedience, because God does. But what is He after most of all?
Psalm 51:16-17 – “You do not delight in sacrifice, or I would bring it; you do not take pleasure in burnt offerings. The sacrifices of God are a broken spirit; a broken and contrite heart, O God, you will not despise.”
Hos 6:6 – “For I desire steadfast love and not sacrifice, the knowledge of God rather than burnt offerings.”
I would far rather have outbursts like this with my child this morning, than a child that live in fear of being honest. As she grows, she is learning to control her emotions. That is vital. To handle them with wisdom instead of outbursts that result in sinful anger. Yet I thank God that we have not forced her to be a “stuffer” by an over-emphasis on outward performance. Many children do this and years later it all comes BURSTING out like a released dam, and they are damaged, embittered, and turn completely from the truth. No, I am thankful that even when things are out of balance and skewed the lines of communication are fully open and we can wrestle through, until the victory is won.
As much as we love to look at a child and see how ridiculous – how immature – how obnoxious and defiant this is, are we not but children in tamed minds? Do we not merely know how to bridle out tongues and not socially embarrass ourselves with such lively displays? Yet in our hearts lurks the same anger, the same “I don’t want to!” vein? We buck. We fight. We kick and scream. We just do it on the inside. And occasionally it comes out and catches us off guard. “How could we?”
How could we not?
Then when the truth of His love rushes over us – inexplicable and undeserved, we push it away. We fight it. Some by trying harder. Some by doing better. By purposing. By grabbing an accountability partner. By memorizing verses. We will do better! Yes, WE can handle this.
Some push away by running. Harder. Faster. Further away. This love is not something that makes sense so we mock it, act disgusted by it. Confused by something so illogical. We cannot embrace it.
The truth of the matter is we don’t know what to do with His love. And yet He says “COME.” As a child. Just as you are. You cannot earn it our outrun it. It’s there. And always will be.
So come. And know. When you say “I don’t want your love”, the response has been – and always will be – “I can’t help it. I love you anyway.”
The rest of us came inside. Started cleaning up in here. She came in a few times, complaining still she didn’t want to do it. I kept sending her back out there to finish the job. Relentless is my name. Finally she came in and declared she would NOT do it, proceeded to hit and swing at me and yelled “I hate you with all my heart!” WOW. Words not ever spoken around here. I would be lying to say it didn’t hurt. But I knew it wasn’t about me, it was about her rebellion. Not liking her job. Fighting authority. She was disciplined for her actions and words. We had a good long talk about our anger and our actions. Where it can lead. What God calls a fool and what He has to say about anger and rage out of control. The dangers of it. His mercy and self control available to us. How she is making her own decisions and will have to live with the consequences. A half-hearted “sorry” was said; I knew it hadn’t penetrated her heart. I prayed for her heart. Hugged her. And sent back out to finish.
Came in again. Got upset. Given the command again. Sent back outside. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat.
I purposed to remain calm. To not let it affect MY emotions. To speak firmly but without anger (after all, how hypocritical would that be!?)
A warning was given: we will be having snack in 5 minutes. I know how snack time is precious to her. I said if she was done by then, she could enjoy it with us. If not, she would miss out. She got upset, stormed out the door and disappeared for 10 min. So in keeping with my word, snack had been served and she had missed out. She went out to pout. Then finally decided to finish the job, and she did. Brought in the bag of trash from the back seat. She saw McKayla throwing away her yogurt cup and said “can I have my snack now?”
I paused. My heart stopped. I knew if I gave in, it would certainly ease my morning battles. I was ready to quit. Weary. Ready to move on for goodness sake! But I knew it would be wrong. She had wasted her time pouting and being angry. I could not let it go. It would not be best for her soul.
“I’m sorry. You missed snack because you chose to be angry and pitch a fit. Just like I said, snack was served in 5 minutes.” This unleashed all sorts of tears and anger and frustration. Suddenly it was my fault she had missed snack. But it was re-explained to her that SHE had made the decision, and therefore SHE had missed out. Her disobedience hurt her own self. Anger. Frustration. Rage.
She called daddy to “tell on me.” That always amuses me. Like we are not a team? She told him the whole story, conveniently omitting her disobedience for being the reason she missed snack. After whining to him for 5 min, she handed the phone to me. “Just love on her a bit. Just give her a hug.”
Now MY rage was about to be unleashed. I had been the most loving mom on the BLOCK today!!!! I sewanee, if I had not prayerfully been in check of my attitude all morning I could easily have dealt with the whole 1 ½ hour scenario QUITE differently. Ohhhh my flesh would have loved it. It would have felt good. After all who would put up with such a selfish brat with SUCH GRACE!!!!???
I then battled in my heart.
“We do grace.”
One of our family motto’s that hang on the wall. “Yes, but what’s the line between showing grace – unconditional love – and coddling a child and teaching them that they can treat others any way they want in their anger and it not breech the relationship? Their actions not have an effect!?” I don’t want children that grow up thinking it is the responsibility of others to bridge the gap and show love when they have been the ones to offend?
Oh God! Mommyhood is overwhelming. Heart issues are beyond my ability to reach.
Yet your wisdom. You promise is there. Is given, when we ask.
Breathe in, and out.
I hesitate.
“Gabrielle, time to do school.” It truly was. I wanted to forget it for the day, after all I had already fought enough battles, I did not want to fight the subtraction battle. I wearily pulled out her chair. She proclaimed she didn’t want to do school. She didn’t want to sit there. She threw her book. Threw her pencil. Fight, fight, fight. I calmly put it back, disciplined, reminded her of the need for obedience. Oh boy, did I know. In my heart I was throwing more than a pencil! But to my Father, I must be obedient. I must train. I must teach. I must be patient.
I looked at her. Miserable. Sulken back in her chair. One butt cheek on the chair and one hanging off. As little “obedient” as she could get away with. My heart yearned for a breakthrough. That heart of stone to shatter. Truth to bring life and softness. I swallowed. It came over me. I could hardly believe the words I was uttering….
“Can I give you a hug?”
Everything in me wanted to smack some sense into her. Everything in me wanted to push her away. To say “fine be that way! Enjoy juvy hall in 8 years, punk!” But grace reached into my heart to reach out to hers. Her response was firm and definite.
“I don’t want love.”
Just like that she said it. What I knew all along. I have a little girl that is very “by the book”. She’d rather follow the letter of the law. Succeed with perfection. High expectations of herself and others. But unconditional love?! No. It did not make sense with her mental mathematical charts of x+y=z. It was irrational. Outlandish. And she did not compute. Not only did she not compute, but rejected it outright as blasphemy to her internal rationale.
Here it was, I knew it. The chance. What she needed. For her actions, yes she had to deal with the consequences. I had not let them slide. But now for her heart? The battle began.
“But I can’t help it. I am full of love for you.”
“I don’t want to be loved!”
“But I can’t stop! My heart is beating with love for you!”
“Just stop, just stop it!”
“Oh but I can’t!”
“I don’t need your love!”
“I will never stop loving you.”
“Just stop, just stop, I don’t WANT TO BE LOVED!”
“I will always love you.”
“I don’t want you to love me!”
“But you’re mine, I will always love you.”
“Don’t!”
“It doesn’t matter what you do or say. I will always. Always. Always love you. Because you’re mine.”
This dialogue carried on for 10-12 minutes. Over, and over, and over again. I began to weep. I knew what was happening here. What I was hearing. What I was saying. The same dialogue we have with Jesus. We fight it. We buck it. We don’t need it. We are fine without it. We don’t deserve it. We cannot earn it. We don’t understand it. We don’t want it.
And yet. He says: I will never. stop. loving. you. I can’t. I won’t. You can’t escape it. No matter what you do or say or feel, it’s there. Washing over you. Enveloping you. Holding you. Your actions don’t define my love. My love is SET on you.
After the tug of war between the love and the rejecting carried on, finally, finally, oh sweet finally…. She melted. Into my arms. And said “I want you to love me.”
We both cried. And cried. I called out “oh Jesus! Thank you! Thank you for showing us this kind of lavish love! No matter what! Lord Jesus: you were both obedient and full of love. Obedient to your Father – not wanting the cross but obeying to it’s call. And you were full of love. While mocked and scorned and belittled and hated you died and loved while we did not. Could not. Lord, please, give Gabrielle a heart for obedience and love as you have! Let us see your example and live by it. And thank you….. Thank you that when we fight and push away as little children because we are ashamed, or independent, or confused, that you never ever EVER stop pursuing us with a love that says ‘but I can’t stop.’”
After that she looked up at me with a heart that I knew had been reached. She had a refreshed, peaceful, tear stained face. Understanding had come to her heart. And yet she still looked up with awe at the great mystery of such love. As do I.
It makes me think of this verse:
Matt 23:37 – “Jerusalem, Jerusalem, who kills the prophets and stones those who are sent to her! How often I wanted to gather your children together, the way a hen gathers her chicks under her wings, and you were unwilling.”
How often! Yet we would not. He sent His ambassadors in to tell of His truth and His love! But we were unwilling. Yet He still says:
Jer 31:3 – “I have loved you with an everlasting love; Therefore I have drawn you with lovingkindness.”
Rom 5:8 – “But God commends his love toward us, in that, while we were yet sinners, Christ died for us.”
I am blown away by a fresh reminder of this inexplicable love. The chance to be washed over by it in my own heart. And the opportunity to lavish it on my children. Above all, I do not seek perfection. You will not find my children in a row, with matching clothes, not daring to step out of line for fear of death. I do require obedience, because God does. But what is He after most of all?
Psalm 51:16-17 – “You do not delight in sacrifice, or I would bring it; you do not take pleasure in burnt offerings. The sacrifices of God are a broken spirit; a broken and contrite heart, O God, you will not despise.”
Hos 6:6 – “For I desire steadfast love and not sacrifice, the knowledge of God rather than burnt offerings.”
I would far rather have outbursts like this with my child this morning, than a child that live in fear of being honest. As she grows, she is learning to control her emotions. That is vital. To handle them with wisdom instead of outbursts that result in sinful anger. Yet I thank God that we have not forced her to be a “stuffer” by an over-emphasis on outward performance. Many children do this and years later it all comes BURSTING out like a released dam, and they are damaged, embittered, and turn completely from the truth. No, I am thankful that even when things are out of balance and skewed the lines of communication are fully open and we can wrestle through, until the victory is won.
As much as we love to look at a child and see how ridiculous – how immature – how obnoxious and defiant this is, are we not but children in tamed minds? Do we not merely know how to bridle out tongues and not socially embarrass ourselves with such lively displays? Yet in our hearts lurks the same anger, the same “I don’t want to!” vein? We buck. We fight. We kick and scream. We just do it on the inside. And occasionally it comes out and catches us off guard. “How could we?”
How could we not?
Then when the truth of His love rushes over us – inexplicable and undeserved, we push it away. We fight it. Some by trying harder. Some by doing better. By purposing. By grabbing an accountability partner. By memorizing verses. We will do better! Yes, WE can handle this.
Some push away by running. Harder. Faster. Further away. This love is not something that makes sense so we mock it, act disgusted by it. Confused by something so illogical. We cannot embrace it.
The truth of the matter is we don’t know what to do with His love. And yet He says “COME.” As a child. Just as you are. You cannot earn it our outrun it. It’s there. And always will be.
So come. And know. When you say “I don’t want your love”, the response has been – and always will be – “I can’t help it. I love you anyway.”
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