Sometimes life can look a little "redundant"...especially for those of us who seem to have an inherent need to learn the same lessons over and over again! Throughout the last 15 years of my life, I have undoubtedly had some life-lessons that have rocked my world...and each one was as if I could physically feel the metamorphosis within my soul...leaving me stronger, wiser, and eternally grateful for making it through to the other side.
One would think that after emerging from each experience feeling like a butterfly, returning to the caterpillar stage, being trapped in a cocoon for suffocatingly long periods of time and having to allow my wings to dry once again would NOT be a desirable choice. Apparently, however, that is exactly the choice I've made more times than I'd like to admit. Life lessons are meant to take you through the "mire" and produce a more beautiful being, and ideally create such a powerful impact that you don't have to go through it again...or if you do, it's easier and a heck of a lot more efficient.
Here I am, 36 years old, a sinlge mother of three, and once again, I feel like I've gotten back in that stinkin' cocoon somehow...I started out as a carefree caterpillar, enjoying the beauty around me, eating all within my reach and feeling fulfilled...and then suddenly that world got rocked and I'm "trapped". Or, as Wikipedia describes it, it's like this:
"In the life of an insect the pupal stage follows the larval stage and precedes adulthood (imago). It is during the time of pupation that the adult structures of the insect are formed while the larval structures are broken down. Pupae are inactive, and usually sessile (not able to move about). They have a hard protective coating and often use camouflage to evade potential predators."
Doesn't sound like a totally fun process to me, but that's exactly what's happening...certain "structures" within me are being broken down and as a result have rendered me "sessile"...I can't move! The part I feel I'm missing is the protective coating, which I could really use right now to keep out those "potential predators."
I don't know how long it will be until I emerge from the cocoon this time around, but two things I know for sure, 1) I will once again experience a metamorphosis that will make me stronger, and 2) When my wings dry, I will embrace that beauty and the ability to fly once again.
Thursday, October 25, 2012
Thursday, January 5, 2012
My Mom is Someone Who Never Gives Up
For Christmas, my daughter received a princess journal that has several areas where questions are asked and the owner of the journal gets to "fill in the blanks." In one section, I noticed she had described me as "someone who never gives up." I took a deep breath and felt my heart overflow with joy...and relief...relief that even when I feel like I'm not doing a fabulous job being a single parent, my daughters see that I'm not giving up.
I will fight 'til the bitter end for them and for what I believe to be true and right. No matter what we may be facing, I find such amazing joy in the moments when my 5 year old looks me in the eyes and whispers, "I love you, mommy", or when my 7 year old hands me a masterpiece of artwork and says, "I made this especially for you, mom" or when my 9 year old turns to a stranger and says, "My mom is so strong."
I know I'm not a perfect parent (who is?!), but I do know that God trusts me enough to loan me these amazing little girls, and I feel so blessed to share my life with them.
I will fight 'til the bitter end for them and for what I believe to be true and right. No matter what we may be facing, I find such amazing joy in the moments when my 5 year old looks me in the eyes and whispers, "I love you, mommy", or when my 7 year old hands me a masterpiece of artwork and says, "I made this especially for you, mom" or when my 9 year old turns to a stranger and says, "My mom is so strong."
I know I'm not a perfect parent (who is?!), but I do know that God trusts me enough to loan me these amazing little girls, and I feel so blessed to share my life with them.
Thursday, December 15, 2011
Don’t wait for your own struggles to enlighten gratitude...(an article about the Denver Rescue Mission)
The weather is turning colder and the colors of the season have painted a whole new landscape around us. For most Americans, this season brings about the hopeful anticipation of celebrating with friends and family around a table filled with turkey, dressing, cranberry sauce, sweet potatoes, string beans and lots of pie. Some of us come by thankfulness quite easily, and for others it’s a struggle; either way, a thankful heart flourishes most in a state of humility. And I have no doubt that the patrons of the Denver Rescue Mission know that full well.
I spoke to Alexxa Gagner on a cold October morning (the first snow of the season for us), and nothing short of awesome would explain what I learned about the Denver Rescue Mission. As the Director of Public Relations, Alexxa spends her days handling media outreach, responding to all inquiries and questions about the organization, updating their social media and purchasing TV, print and radio spots. In addition, she handles the internal communication for their 160 employees to ensure that they all have the same focus and mission, which is “…changing lives in the name of Christ by meeting people at their physical and spiritual points of need, with the goal of returning them to society as productive, self-sufficient citizens.” But make no mistake about this organization, “…no one is denied services because of gender, race, color, creed, national origin, religion, age, handicap, political affiliation, sex, sexual orientation, or marital, parental or military status” (www.denverrescuemission.org).
The Denver Rescue Mission originally started in 1892 as an outreach to prostitutes and was located near 31st and Lawrence Street. Now that they have worked hard to focus on men as well, there are 5 different locations that comprise the Denver Rescue Mission in its entirety, so keeping the engine running efficiently is no easy task. First is the Lawrence Street Shelter, often referred to as “Jesus Saves” due to the cross and writing on the side of the building, which holds 300 beds for a men’s overnight shelter. In addition, this location serves three meals per day and offers food boxes, clothing and hygiene for anyone (not just men). Next, they have The Crossing, a transitional living facility that the Mission bought 6 years ago as an old hotel and refurbished for the purpose of housing men, women and children who are in the process of looking for permanent housing. The 120 men at The Crossing participate in a “New Life” program that can take up to two years. In addition, the Denver Broncos’ Youth Center is housed at The Crossing, and offers a valuable mentor program for today’s youth trying to break the poverty cycle. The third facility is Champa House, which is for women going through the “New Life” program. The women at this 9-apartment facility are mostly single mothers with children under age 12, and they all take turns helping each other out, such as taking turns cooking meals for each other. This facility is also a perfect place for a woman to turn if she has lost her children and longs to improve her life in hopes of recovering them from the foster system. The fourth location, which was acquired in 1988, is the “… former Mercy Farm in Wellington, Colorado. Renamed Harvest Farm, the 209-acre farm grows food crops for the needy, provides long-term rehabilitation for 72 men in the New Life Program and serves as a rural outreach” (www.denverrescuemission.org). Lastly, the Ministry Outreach Center is home to the administrative offices as well as the main warehouse that stores all their goods…including TURKEYS!
Beginning November 1st, the Denver Rescue Mission will kick off the Annual Turkey Drive, and if it’s anything like last year (when they collected 24, 000 turkeys and made national news), they will need all that space in their warehouse for those birds! Their goal this year is 10,000 turkeys…but that doesn’t mean they won’t be inundated with them like last year. You’re probably wondering what in the world they do with that many turkeys…rest assured they all go to good homes. 1,250 of them will be given out on November 22nd with other accoutrements as a “Banquet in a Box”. Volunteers from all over the area come to help wheel the food in a wagon out to the car for these thankful recipients. “This allows people to have one-on-one contact and see a smiling face,” said Alexxa. Several turkeys are given to churches, food banks and non-profits, such as Volunteers of America who will be receiving 1,500 turkeys this year. The remaining turkeys are then distributed amongst the four other Denver Rescue Mission facilities so that they can feed their humble patrons and residents there. The one facility that goes above and beyond feeding those who live there, is the Lawrence Street Shelter, where they host the “Great Thanksgiving Banquet.”
On November 22nd, the smell coming from the Lawrence Street Shelter will be that of at least 100 Turkeys cooking all night long, so that November 23rd, Governor Hickenlooper and Mayor Hancock, along with over 60 volunteers can host 500 grateful people from 11am-1pm for the banquet. With this many people, they cannot feed them all at once, so they will begin the banquet with a small chapel service and bring the people into the dining room in waves. Each patron will have a chance to sit down and be served a traditional Thanksgiving meal right to their table. Everyone will walk away with full bellies, warm blankets, clean socks and ideally a hopeful heart. Many of us have more to be thankful for than we realize, and it isn’t until moments of pain and suffering that our hearts are tenderized toward other people. Don’t wait for your own struggles to enlighten gratitude; reach out now through the Denver Rescue Mission or another charity of your choice and let your compassion far outweigh any tendency you have to judge.
Tuesday, December 13, 2011
Photo Card
Sweet Little Label Christmas
Create from the Heart: photo Christmas cards from Shutterfly .
View the entire collection of cards.
Monday, December 12, 2011
Too Tired for Tears
Have you ever been so tired that you couldn't even cry...so weary from the constant striving that although your heart is breaking and your body wants to cry, no tears come?
That's how I felt last night...after a long weekend of very sweet moments (mixed with lots of challenging ones) with my children, I finally got them to sleep and filled the bathtub so I could unwind and reflect. But as I stepped in and sank down into the bubbles, what seemed to come crashing in like a storm was not the peace I was longing for. Instead, I started sobbing...but no tears came...just a lot of energy draining out and a lot of weight on my heart, but no tears. I so badly wanted the tears to flow so I could find some relief, and I felt like a prisoner in my own body.
Finally, after about 10 minutes of "dry" sobbing, a few minutes of tears felt like a spritz of cold water sprayed in my face and brought about the same relief a small splash brings on a sweltering hot summer day...but it was better than nothing. It took a while to make myself get out of the bathtub, but when the water started turning colder, I decided it was time.
As I looked in the mirror at my tear-stained cheeks, one phrase kept pounding in my head--"cease striving." The word striving has a few meanings, all very similar, but "to struggle or fight forcefully" is the kind of striving that has been draining me. I've never been one to give up easily, and I often find that my striving is most painful in the relationships in my life that mean the most. I don't want to have to "struggle" or "fight forcefully" in these relationships...I want them to come with great joy and ease. And when they don't, I get this overwhelming (albeit inaccurate) feeling that the survival of that relationship rests solely on my shoulders. So to "cease", which means to literally "give over" is extremely difficult for me. But that's just it...the "give over" definition is right where I need to land...to give it over to the One who is in control. He is sovereign, after all, and if I proclaim to trust Him, then I must be willing to let go.
It hurts so much...but I'm going to try to give it over to You, Lord!
That's how I felt last night...after a long weekend of very sweet moments (mixed with lots of challenging ones) with my children, I finally got them to sleep and filled the bathtub so I could unwind and reflect. But as I stepped in and sank down into the bubbles, what seemed to come crashing in like a storm was not the peace I was longing for. Instead, I started sobbing...but no tears came...just a lot of energy draining out and a lot of weight on my heart, but no tears. I so badly wanted the tears to flow so I could find some relief, and I felt like a prisoner in my own body.
Finally, after about 10 minutes of "dry" sobbing, a few minutes of tears felt like a spritz of cold water sprayed in my face and brought about the same relief a small splash brings on a sweltering hot summer day...but it was better than nothing. It took a while to make myself get out of the bathtub, but when the water started turning colder, I decided it was time.
As I looked in the mirror at my tear-stained cheeks, one phrase kept pounding in my head--"cease striving." The word striving has a few meanings, all very similar, but "to struggle or fight forcefully" is the kind of striving that has been draining me. I've never been one to give up easily, and I often find that my striving is most painful in the relationships in my life that mean the most. I don't want to have to "struggle" or "fight forcefully" in these relationships...I want them to come with great joy and ease. And when they don't, I get this overwhelming (albeit inaccurate) feeling that the survival of that relationship rests solely on my shoulders. So to "cease", which means to literally "give over" is extremely difficult for me. But that's just it...the "give over" definition is right where I need to land...to give it over to the One who is in control. He is sovereign, after all, and if I proclaim to trust Him, then I must be willing to let go.
It hurts so much...but I'm going to try to give it over to You, Lord!
Monday, December 5, 2011
What Drives the Band
Whether or not your IPOD rocks tunes like “How Far” or “Life Will Fade Away”, you can’t help but fall in love with Synthetic Elements, the Punk Rock / Ska band from Fort Morgan, CO. Kyle Hernandez (Bass Player and Vocals) showed up at 10am on a Wednesday morning, dressed to fit your teenage dream of a punk rocker, carrying his orange Gatorade and flashing his heart-melting smile. Amidst the hustle and bustle of the Teyste & Grandeur Warehouse, we were soon entrenched in conversation.
Looking at this confident 26 year old, I knew there was an incredible history behind the mounting success of Synthetic Elements. About ten years ago, on a snowy Colorado day, Kyle and his buddies decided it was too snowy to hit the skate park and headed for his friend Todd’s house (Todd McMullan, Lead Singer). Little did they know that the moment they picked up his dad’s instruments, they were embarking on a life-long journey into the world of music. The fact that none of the boys had been trained musically didn’t stop them from booking a gig at a local coffee shop (which at the time was In the Mood) within just one week. Kyle had already been a roadie for a friend’s band, and Brett (Brett Carson, Drummer) was playing for another band that had kicked him out when he broke his ankle. Kyle seized the opportunity and “stole” Brett, whom he’d known since Kindergarten, and the band then got their real start. Raw talent abounded within the group, and the city of Ft. Morgan was chomping at the bit, especially since the last musical wonder to come out of that town was Glenn Miller around 1940. With the limited entertainment in this small farming town, Synthetic Elements packed the house at every concert they offered, and they were soon branching out to surrounding cities such as Greeley, CO.
Next on the map? Denver seemed too easy and not quite as inviting, so the band hit the road and headed to Utah; fifteen and sixteen year old boys packing up the van on a Friday night to feed their hungry fans and heading home Sunday to get ready for an average teenage school week. ..although, “average” doesn’t quite describe the life these young men have led. Around Utah, the ska-punk tunes of Synthetic Elements rang through the locals’ ears, and soon word spread like wildfire, bringing more gigs and innumerous fans. A lot of heart and little steps along the way continued to lead the band to places like the Sundance Film Festival, where they met a few legends and left a lasting impression on key players in the industry. Powerfully touring the US on their own circuit for years, they welcomed the privilege to tour with icons such as Billy Idol and Flogging Molly, and the camaraderie has certainly kept their passion blazing. “We’ve played everything,” says Kyle, “from the tiniest bar to the biggest venues, wherever the kids were hungry for us!” Apparently the kids in Indianapolis are starving for them because every concert there has been sold out, and last year awarded them “Best Punk Band in Indianapolis 2010” even over all their own local punk bands. Kyle talks about how supportive the scene is there like he’s talking about his favorite uncle, which isn’t too far-fetched considering the fans there range from teens to 50-year olds. So, safe to say there is no master formula to making their band successful. Kyle says “We’ve all learned so much through the years by trial and error, we’ve all learned together.”
When they first started out, they discovered that the Denver scene was not as diverse or responsive in the realm of the punk scene, so they have sought to create a following in other regions. My Space was hitting the web scene around the same time the band came together, so much of their publicity and promotion has flourished on the internet, allowing for a bigger following and greater exposure. The band’s managers, Dave McMullan and Brad Lindgren, do their best with what they know, but the band has “…all chipped in, and [they’ve] failed miserably, but also succeeded” (Kyle Hernandez). Part of their success comes from choosing to stay in Colorado as opposed to the over-saturated scene in Hollywood. Synthetic Elements has not only made a name for itself, but has paved the way for other bands to do the same. The band believes wholeheartedly in giving back to the community, helping others who are striving to reach their goals and pouring back into their own band to enable them to soar even higher. “It is a business…lawyers, contracts, bonds, equipment…but we have never taken a cent from the band, any of us” (Kyle Hernandez). This principle is at the heart of Filthy Beast Records, the record label the band started so that they could pour back into other local bands, such as The Potato Pirates, to help them live their dreams. Each of the band members has his own day job, working 40 plus hours a week, but it’s all to make the bigger picture work so that they can be Synthetic Elements full time one day.
But don’t be fooled by those full time jobs because they put at least another 40 hours into the band; especially when they are on tour with AFE (Armed Forces Entertainment) like they will be in October 2011 as they visit Guam, Japan and South Korea. The AFE is the “Official Department of Defense agency for providing entertainment to U.S. military personnel overseas. Armed Forces Entertainment and its performers have the honor of supporting soldiers, airmen, marines and sailors by bringing them the very best in American entertainment” (http://www.armedforcesentertainment.com). Kyle says the entertainment brings the military personnel a piece of home and boosts morale. Because this is “official business,” he isn’t at liberty to tell me the details of their AFE tour, but he is excited to return to Guam for the one year anniversary of Molly McGee’s, the bar they opened and of which they remain “plank owners.” Preparation for this tour is intensive, so the band will take two weeks off prior to departure to meticulously pack equipment and personal belongings. When they return, their usual schedule would be booked two months in advance, but they will be taking some time to focus on the year ahead.
2012 will undoubtedly be an exciting year for Synthetic Elements, with a new album in the works and an unwavering commitment to only stop when they’ve “plateaued”…which clearly hasn’t happened yet. They are continually brainstorming and charging ahead, landing their songs on local radio stations (namely, channel 93.3/KTCL), ESPN, Fuel Television and Rock Band®. Recently, the band recorded a few demos in their own studio, and soon will be laying down tracks for their new album at Bill Stevenson’s studio, “Blasting Room,” in Fort Collins, CO. Previous hits, like “Something Worth Fighting For”, have influenced many people on various levels with multiple meanings; the band may have a story behind a song, but what they want is for the lyrics to apply to others’ lives when and how they need it. Just ask the fans who have tattooed their lyrics on their bodies, and I’m sure you’ll hear resounding admiration for these men. And I would have to agree.
Kyle and I could talk all day, but since we both have a busy schedule, I want one last bit of inspiration from him, so I ask him to tell me what drives Synthetic Elements. He leaves me with this, “We are a family, we’re very close brothers. We absolutely love playing music and seeing people sing our music back to us; and just the happiness that it brings to people is what really feeds us. And that’s the reason we don’t talk about religion or politics. We talk about every- day life that anybody can relate to. We’ve had people say, ‘I was going to commit suicide, but your music really helped me.’ When we can be an inspiration to people or put smiles on people’s faces, it really drives our band.”
So, the next time you’re looking for a way to transform your playlist, remember there’s more to the punk scene than the music, and look for the latest hit from Synthetic Elements.
The Band: Kyle Hernandez, Bass Player and Vocals; Todd McMullan, Lead Singer; Brett Carson, Drummer; Johnson, Washboard and Trombone; Mike Blecha, Organ and Trumpet; Dave McMullan, Manager; Brand Lindgren, Road Manager
Sunday, March 6, 2011
Jaded and Sorrowful
One of these days, I swear I will write about something more upbeat and joyful. However, it seems that certain seasons of life just lend themselves to bottles of tears instead of rays of sunshine.
I sat down tonight, tucked away in a corner of the kitchen, trying to escape the little innocent eyes of my daughters so I could cry without being seen--one little set of eyes was a bit too in tune with mommy's "mood", and soon I felt two sweet little arms wrapped around my pathetic heaving shoulders. Which of course melted my heart, and reminded me of the way I spent my morning.
Today was the first day of a new Single Mom's Group at my church..."Soul-O Moms"--cute name, huh! The leaders of our group decided to let us each share our stories so we could get acquainted...I'm just not sure they expected it to turn in to a room full of empathetic tears and "pass the kleenex box" moments. As I sat and listened to each woman, my eyes were like 2 leaky faucets that, in spite of the plumbers efforts, would not stop. Every story held its own overwhelming sadness and an underlying theme of what anyone would call "injustice." And although we all trust the Lord that brighter days are ahead, we all have aches and pains that make daily living a little bit more challenging. Even the acute sense of awareness that "it could be so much worse" doesn't do a whole lot to quench the thirst for immediate pain relief.
My heart left my chest and took up residency in each woman as her mouth formed words that felt all too familiar, and seemed a little bit less comfortable back in my own body with each return. And yet this is why we were there...to reach out to those sharing the same struggles and to encourage each other to try to pick up the pieces of our broken dreams and start rebuilding. I felt strangely thankful for the sorrowful morning, but I couldn't help feeling intensely jaded toward men as a general "race". Not a single woman in that room deserved what the men in their lives dished out to them. And after my own repetitive heartbreak over the man I love, I seem to be wanting to run, not walk, away from every man I've ever known or could come to know. One can only get a heart-thrashing so many times before she finally decides it's just not worth it.
Seriously, God, is this what you had in mind when you first created Adam? I highly doubt it!
I sat down tonight, tucked away in a corner of the kitchen, trying to escape the little innocent eyes of my daughters so I could cry without being seen--one little set of eyes was a bit too in tune with mommy's "mood", and soon I felt two sweet little arms wrapped around my pathetic heaving shoulders. Which of course melted my heart, and reminded me of the way I spent my morning.
Today was the first day of a new Single Mom's Group at my church..."Soul-O Moms"--cute name, huh! The leaders of our group decided to let us each share our stories so we could get acquainted...I'm just not sure they expected it to turn in to a room full of empathetic tears and "pass the kleenex box" moments. As I sat and listened to each woman, my eyes were like 2 leaky faucets that, in spite of the plumbers efforts, would not stop. Every story held its own overwhelming sadness and an underlying theme of what anyone would call "injustice." And although we all trust the Lord that brighter days are ahead, we all have aches and pains that make daily living a little bit more challenging. Even the acute sense of awareness that "it could be so much worse" doesn't do a whole lot to quench the thirst for immediate pain relief.
My heart left my chest and took up residency in each woman as her mouth formed words that felt all too familiar, and seemed a little bit less comfortable back in my own body with each return. And yet this is why we were there...to reach out to those sharing the same struggles and to encourage each other to try to pick up the pieces of our broken dreams and start rebuilding. I felt strangely thankful for the sorrowful morning, but I couldn't help feeling intensely jaded toward men as a general "race". Not a single woman in that room deserved what the men in their lives dished out to them. And after my own repetitive heartbreak over the man I love, I seem to be wanting to run, not walk, away from every man I've ever known or could come to know. One can only get a heart-thrashing so many times before she finally decides it's just not worth it.
Seriously, God, is this what you had in mind when you first created Adam? I highly doubt it!
Tuesday, February 8, 2011
No More Than I Can Handle...Right?
I have always considered myself a very strong woman--able to continue pouring out even when I feel drained; able to consider the glass always half FULL, not empty; able to exude joy even when circumstances are creating emotional turmoil; and able to see the bigger picture and keep pressing on in faith. From the time I was little, I believed that "God doesn't give us more than we can handle."
However, sometimes there are those moments, hours, days, weeks, or even months that feel like it truly is way more than I can handle. Serve me up a platter of one issue at a time, and I can devour it in no time, ready for the next. But present a buffet of four or five of them at once, and I will try to put it all on my plate, nibbling away at each as much as possible until I feel so "stuffed" that I burst!
That is where I am--but the buffet is not one that any person in his/her right mind would actually choose to partake in. It is filled with shattered dreams, broken hearts, confused and sad children, sick and expensive animals, overwhelming responsibilities, and often irrational meltdowns (from the kids and mommy).
Yes, "this too shall pass," and we will come out stronger (I hope) and grateful for God's mercy. But that's AFTERWARDS...what about now? When will I feel like I can take a deep breath and not breath in my own sorrow? When will I stop snapping at the girls simply because I cannot contain my own emotions? When will my girls look at me and see peace and not turmoil? When will my heart feel strong enough to stand up and say, "YOU may NOT treat me this way" (to the man who's ripped out my heart and stomped all over it) and then actually follow through with setting those boundaries? When will I be that strong woman I've always believed myself to be?
Please do not misunderstand me, I do believe God is bigger than all of this. There's just one small hurdle...I am HUMAN, and I hurt, I fear, I crumble, I stumble, I fail, I cry, I scream, and I barely hang on to the edge sometimes...and I look at the Lord with tearstained cheeks and cry out, "Really? No more than I can handle? Are you kidding me?!"
However, sometimes there are those moments, hours, days, weeks, or even months that feel like it truly is way more than I can handle. Serve me up a platter of one issue at a time, and I can devour it in no time, ready for the next. But present a buffet of four or five of them at once, and I will try to put it all on my plate, nibbling away at each as much as possible until I feel so "stuffed" that I burst!
That is where I am--but the buffet is not one that any person in his/her right mind would actually choose to partake in. It is filled with shattered dreams, broken hearts, confused and sad children, sick and expensive animals, overwhelming responsibilities, and often irrational meltdowns (from the kids and mommy).
Yes, "this too shall pass," and we will come out stronger (I hope) and grateful for God's mercy. But that's AFTERWARDS...what about now? When will I feel like I can take a deep breath and not breath in my own sorrow? When will I stop snapping at the girls simply because I cannot contain my own emotions? When will my girls look at me and see peace and not turmoil? When will my heart feel strong enough to stand up and say, "YOU may NOT treat me this way" (to the man who's ripped out my heart and stomped all over it) and then actually follow through with setting those boundaries? When will I be that strong woman I've always believed myself to be?
Please do not misunderstand me, I do believe God is bigger than all of this. There's just one small hurdle...I am HUMAN, and I hurt, I fear, I crumble, I stumble, I fail, I cry, I scream, and I barely hang on to the edge sometimes...and I look at the Lord with tearstained cheeks and cry out, "Really? No more than I can handle? Are you kidding me?!"
Thursday, September 2, 2010
Rest Assured
Have you ever heard something so many times that you tune it out or become numb to its power? I've heard this familiar saying, "Rest Assured," in many different situations and from a slew of unsolicited voices, and yet I've never truly contemplated the meaning. Lately it has rushed through me like cold water on a hot day.
Rest: peace of mind or spirit; motionless or state of inactivity
Assured: satisfied as to the certainty or truth of a matter
At this stage in my life, I have been burned by people so many times that it's hard to rest assured in anything a man (or woman) says to me. I try, believe me I do, and I typically end up trusting them until proven otherwise. But to really have peace of mind...or more importantly, spirit, in the TRUTH of a matter is entirely another animal!
The only place I can genuinely rest assured is in the mighty sovereignty of the Lord; true peace is there. When I can really lie motionless, stop all activity and throw my hands up, that's when I know that I know that I know that HE is where my assurance does not waiver. I am satisfied in the certainty that He loves me, He has GREAT plans for me (and my daughters) and He will be standing there with arms wide open every time I forget to stop and rest.
Rest: peace of mind or spirit; motionless or state of inactivity
Assured: satisfied as to the certainty or truth of a matter
At this stage in my life, I have been burned by people so many times that it's hard to rest assured in anything a man (or woman) says to me. I try, believe me I do, and I typically end up trusting them until proven otherwise. But to really have peace of mind...or more importantly, spirit, in the TRUTH of a matter is entirely another animal!
The only place I can genuinely rest assured is in the mighty sovereignty of the Lord; true peace is there. When I can really lie motionless, stop all activity and throw my hands up, that's when I know that I know that I know that HE is where my assurance does not waiver. I am satisfied in the certainty that He loves me, He has GREAT plans for me (and my daughters) and He will be standing there with arms wide open every time I forget to stop and rest.
Thursday, December 10, 2009
The Chill in the Air
As I opened my eyes and tried to focus on the clock, my toes crept out from the warmth of my covers and then quickly retreated. The frigid air pressed against my face, increasing my resistance to wake up at 3:45 in the morning. Yet as I rolled over to bury my face in the pillow, my sleepy eyes caught a sweet glimpse, two (of my three) little cherub faces sleeping soundly in my bed, reminding me of why I get up each day. I smiled and coerced my sleepy self to emerge from the cozy comfort. Tiptoeing into the bathroom, so as not to wake the angels, I set foot on the cold tile and breathed in the chill. The light was a rude awakening to my tired eyes, and my face revealed the exhaustion within. And so the transformation began; make-up, hair, and a cute, but warm, outfit all for a three hour shift at the front desk of an athletic club. If only the inner transformation of our souls was as simple, and the trials as brief.
In the quiet of my home, I gingerly descended the stairway, admiring the beautiful Noble Fir with all its trimmings and the unlit lights awaiting their next performance. The dark kitchen felt ominously lonely as I pulled an egg from the fridge and boiled water on the stove. Feeling a tug on my heart, I quickly grabbed a pen and paper to leave my family a "love note"; I made my coffee, grabbed my breakfast and headed out the door. Although the garage was cold, it was no match for the chill in the air of the early morning outdoors. The streets were covered in wind-blown snow and were peacefully empty. My mind drifted to the poor souls who may be out walking in the miserable cold, and I was grateful for my warm car. Simple, yet profound, I likened my vehicle to the stable where Mary gave birth to our Savior. Within that humble, dirty, nearly insuffiicient shelter, a certain safety emerged. Was it beause it was warm? I wonder if it even was. Was it because it was cozy? Certainly not. Was it because their family was with them? Oh no, they were on their own. Was it because they were certain of what the future held? Not likely. Was it because HE was there? Absolutely!
I can imagine that Mary looked down into her baby's eyes, and was met with a soul-quenching look of eternal love. Maybe her trepidation and awe were somehow soothed with the peace of a faithful Father; One who would prove to be her strength in times of need and her hope in times of joy. I wish I could have seen that moment as it took place. I love to ponder all that that mother felt.
On mornings like today, when the chill is in the air, the mother in me wants to protect my children from the disomfort they may face. Yet I trust that whatever challenges may come their way, be it harsh weather or harsh people, He is the One within who will give them strength to persevere and hope to rejoice. The chill is in the air, but the fire is in our hearts!
In the quiet of my home, I gingerly descended the stairway, admiring the beautiful Noble Fir with all its trimmings and the unlit lights awaiting their next performance. The dark kitchen felt ominously lonely as I pulled an egg from the fridge and boiled water on the stove. Feeling a tug on my heart, I quickly grabbed a pen and paper to leave my family a "love note"; I made my coffee, grabbed my breakfast and headed out the door. Although the garage was cold, it was no match for the chill in the air of the early morning outdoors. The streets were covered in wind-blown snow and were peacefully empty. My mind drifted to the poor souls who may be out walking in the miserable cold, and I was grateful for my warm car. Simple, yet profound, I likened my vehicle to the stable where Mary gave birth to our Savior. Within that humble, dirty, nearly insuffiicient shelter, a certain safety emerged. Was it beause it was warm? I wonder if it even was. Was it because it was cozy? Certainly not. Was it because their family was with them? Oh no, they were on their own. Was it because they were certain of what the future held? Not likely. Was it because HE was there? Absolutely!
I can imagine that Mary looked down into her baby's eyes, and was met with a soul-quenching look of eternal love. Maybe her trepidation and awe were somehow soothed with the peace of a faithful Father; One who would prove to be her strength in times of need and her hope in times of joy. I wish I could have seen that moment as it took place. I love to ponder all that that mother felt.
On mornings like today, when the chill is in the air, the mother in me wants to protect my children from the disomfort they may face. Yet I trust that whatever challenges may come their way, be it harsh weather or harsh people, He is the One within who will give them strength to persevere and hope to rejoice. The chill is in the air, but the fire is in our hearts!
Sunday, April 19, 2009
"Dents in my fender and rips in my jeans"
My true desire is to write on this blogspot (or somewhere) every day, but the reality is far from that. This entry is my "heart on my sleeve" tonight, as I've been at combat in the depths of my soul for about a week now.
I spent a weekend in Buena Vista at the beginning of this month, and as this incredible weekend drew to a close, we were asked to leave what we needed to at the foot of the cross; and so we did...literally and figuratively. As I walked to the front of the room, my eyes fixed on the wooden cross neatly placed in a glass vase, I wrestled with God about what I truly needed to leave behind. When I reached the table, the tiny square of red paper seemed all but adequate for what my heart was sreaming. I carefully wrote three things on my crimson square, covered each item in white out (as was part of the visual for us), and exhaled a great sigh of relief as I walked back to my chair.
One of the issues I chose to leave at the cross that day was bitterness toward my husband...bitterness for epic issues of the past as well as daily irritations and frustrations. Lord, I knew it was going to be hard, but not this gut-wrenching battle that it has been ever since I returned. He that is in the world has certainly felt "greater" than He that is in me...although I know that is NOT the truth.
The nutshell version of my "husband issues" has been this: him completely missing Good Friday dinner and 90% of the Good Friday service we were to attend as a family; my father-in-law lashing out at me for issues far greater than I believe he realizes, and then cancelling with us for Easter dinner; my husband not protecting me from that conversation--or even offering post-trauma comfort; then spending my Monday working all morning, cleaning the garage all afternoon, and putting a hot dinner on the table right as my husband walked in the door--only to discover he'd been playing golf all day; him choosing to miss our middle daughter's Kindergarten "preview day" and not even a hint of sorrow or remorse; followed bluntly by our youngest daughter's near-drowning due to his negligence. (The details of each of these issues would give you a much deeper understanding of my pain and frustration...but I realize that would be unnecessary at this time...and you'd be sound asleep in five minutes!)
A week ago, I was ready to pack my bags and leave...fully aware this in NOT the solution, nor is it a Godly decision. However, my human nature is overwhelmed with emotion and is not thinking so clearly. Because God, in His wisdom and kindness, completely realizes where I am right now, He provided a message at church today that hit me upside the head! The revelation was not new, the words not eloquent, yet it was God taking my face in His hands, looking in my eyes and saying "My child, please hear Me...this life is not about you, it's about Me." As the pastor put it, once we take our focus off the Lord and put it on the people (or things) in our life, we lose the meaning of our life. We can even go so far as to waste our lives this way!
I sat in my hard metal chair (we were late and got the "extra" seats today) with my face in my hands and my heart in my stomach. I didn't know whether to cry, fall on my knees, or run out screaming--or all three! I love my Jesus with all my heart, but there are times that I want nothing more than to say "WHY?!" or "NO!" And that little toddler in me was raging as I felt the Holy Spirit saying "Tate, you have to take your focus of your husband, your kids, and yourself!" Somewhere along the way, I feel like I lost myself in my family. And the hardest part in that is that they are not a bad thing...like drugs or abuse...they are the biggest blessing I have. Yet the Father is standing next to them with His hands reaching forth, and He is saying, "But what about Me?"
All day these words have been nagging at the back of my mind..."Has it ocurred to you that God has you in this situation because He wants to work through you?" If this is true for me in this marriage, then I better suck it up and let Him work through me..."...though my heart is torn [Lord], I will praise You in this storm!"
I spent a weekend in Buena Vista at the beginning of this month, and as this incredible weekend drew to a close, we were asked to leave what we needed to at the foot of the cross; and so we did...literally and figuratively. As I walked to the front of the room, my eyes fixed on the wooden cross neatly placed in a glass vase, I wrestled with God about what I truly needed to leave behind. When I reached the table, the tiny square of red paper seemed all but adequate for what my heart was sreaming. I carefully wrote three things on my crimson square, covered each item in white out (as was part of the visual for us), and exhaled a great sigh of relief as I walked back to my chair.
One of the issues I chose to leave at the cross that day was bitterness toward my husband...bitterness for epic issues of the past as well as daily irritations and frustrations. Lord, I knew it was going to be hard, but not this gut-wrenching battle that it has been ever since I returned. He that is in the world has certainly felt "greater" than He that is in me...although I know that is NOT the truth.
The nutshell version of my "husband issues" has been this: him completely missing Good Friday dinner and 90% of the Good Friday service we were to attend as a family; my father-in-law lashing out at me for issues far greater than I believe he realizes, and then cancelling with us for Easter dinner; my husband not protecting me from that conversation--or even offering post-trauma comfort; then spending my Monday working all morning, cleaning the garage all afternoon, and putting a hot dinner on the table right as my husband walked in the door--only to discover he'd been playing golf all day; him choosing to miss our middle daughter's Kindergarten "preview day" and not even a hint of sorrow or remorse; followed bluntly by our youngest daughter's near-drowning due to his negligence. (The details of each of these issues would give you a much deeper understanding of my pain and frustration...but I realize that would be unnecessary at this time...and you'd be sound asleep in five minutes!)
A week ago, I was ready to pack my bags and leave...fully aware this in NOT the solution, nor is it a Godly decision. However, my human nature is overwhelmed with emotion and is not thinking so clearly. Because God, in His wisdom and kindness, completely realizes where I am right now, He provided a message at church today that hit me upside the head! The revelation was not new, the words not eloquent, yet it was God taking my face in His hands, looking in my eyes and saying "My child, please hear Me...this life is not about you, it's about Me." As the pastor put it, once we take our focus off the Lord and put it on the people (or things) in our life, we lose the meaning of our life. We can even go so far as to waste our lives this way!
I sat in my hard metal chair (we were late and got the "extra" seats today) with my face in my hands and my heart in my stomach. I didn't know whether to cry, fall on my knees, or run out screaming--or all three! I love my Jesus with all my heart, but there are times that I want nothing more than to say "WHY?!" or "NO!" And that little toddler in me was raging as I felt the Holy Spirit saying "Tate, you have to take your focus of your husband, your kids, and yourself!" Somewhere along the way, I feel like I lost myself in my family. And the hardest part in that is that they are not a bad thing...like drugs or abuse...they are the biggest blessing I have. Yet the Father is standing next to them with His hands reaching forth, and He is saying, "But what about Me?"
All day these words have been nagging at the back of my mind..."Has it ocurred to you that God has you in this situation because He wants to work through you?" If this is true for me in this marriage, then I better suck it up and let Him work through me..."...though my heart is torn [Lord], I will praise You in this storm!"
Tuesday, August 5, 2008
Diaries of a Family Vacation
Well, today is day 5 of our family vacation, and I had intended to do a DAILY entry. But I suppose it's better late than never!
DAY 1 and 2...July 31st and August 1st...We left Superior at about 11am (for a 3pm flight from DIA), but we never left DIA until 9:25pm that evening! Long story short...our gate was changed three times, then we had to change flights from LAX to San Francisco b/c there were no more connecting flights to Hawaii from LAX for two more days. We dragge our poor girls all over the airport and then all the way to San Fran to spend the night in a lousy hotel, only getting 5 hours of sleep, just to return to the airport at 7am the next morning to sit on another plane for 5 hours. But the girls were AMAZING, and God was gracious enough to have Delaney and Genevieve sleep almost the whole flight. WE SURVIVED! We arrived in Kona around Noon on the 1st and immediately headed to the condo to throw our suits on and jump in the pool. After some swimming and sunning, we walked to "The Queen's Shops" to find dinner...dinner was delicious, but little Alianna barely made it through her little appetizer and then fell asleep on the floor behind our table (guess she should've slept on the plane, but she was too busy playing with the new friends she'd made). We all retired early and extremely overdue for some good sleep.
Day 3...August 2nd...Time for the beach! We gathered our things, packed a lunch, and headed for "A Bay" to splash in the ocean and wiggle our toes in the sand. The girls were beside themselves with excitement, and we quickly had three little fish on our hands. As if that weren't enough pleasure for the day, Pierce and Dad had to head off for golf around 2pm...so we women headed for the grocery store to round up the rest of our food for the evening. We had a nice BBQ dinner (grilled poolside) and snuggled in to bed early again.
Day 4...August 3rd...I named this day "Kona Kraze" b/c we went to church at 9:30am and didn't come home from Kona (which is 30 min. south of our place) until 6pm that evening! We attended a soulful service at a sweet little chapel tucked way up the hill in lush green palms, followed by a delicious brunch at the Kona Country Club, snorkeling (all be it short-lived due to Alianna's turtle scare) on a rustic Kona shore, and then tons of "running around." We had to hit the Farmer's Market for our fresh fruit, then Wal-Mart for necesities (i.e. diapers and toothpaste), and finally COSTCO for the most lucrative food supply. By the time we reached our "home sweet home," the girls were beyond tired and ready to tear us all to pieces. We vowed to NOT do that next Sunday.
Day 5...August 4th...Dad and Pierce were up and going by 9am for 36...yes ThIRTY SIX...holes of golf. Mom and I took the girls to the beach, then the pool, and then inside for some much-needed R&R away from water! Dinner was quick, but only so we could fit in the run to get ice cream. The girls were in heaven (but little did they know that we passed up our share of ice cream so we could still eat the rest of the week--ONE SCOOP was $6!!!), and we had a hard time getting them to leave the little shops. We finally made it back and got everyone nestled into bed. So now I'm on this silly computer playing catch up with my blogspot. Memories are worth holding onto, and sometimes I regret not keeping track of them...so now I can go to bed knowing I have at least gotten down the basics. Hopefully the next entries will prove to be more exciting.
DAY 1 and 2...July 31st and August 1st...We left Superior at about 11am (for a 3pm flight from DIA), but we never left DIA until 9:25pm that evening! Long story short...our gate was changed three times, then we had to change flights from LAX to San Francisco b/c there were no more connecting flights to Hawaii from LAX for two more days. We dragge our poor girls all over the airport and then all the way to San Fran to spend the night in a lousy hotel, only getting 5 hours of sleep, just to return to the airport at 7am the next morning to sit on another plane for 5 hours. But the girls were AMAZING, and God was gracious enough to have Delaney and Genevieve sleep almost the whole flight. WE SURVIVED! We arrived in Kona around Noon on the 1st and immediately headed to the condo to throw our suits on and jump in the pool. After some swimming and sunning, we walked to "The Queen's Shops" to find dinner...dinner was delicious, but little Alianna barely made it through her little appetizer and then fell asleep on the floor behind our table (guess she should've slept on the plane, but she was too busy playing with the new friends she'd made). We all retired early and extremely overdue for some good sleep.
Day 3...August 2nd...Time for the beach! We gathered our things, packed a lunch, and headed for "A Bay" to splash in the ocean and wiggle our toes in the sand. The girls were beside themselves with excitement, and we quickly had three little fish on our hands. As if that weren't enough pleasure for the day, Pierce and Dad had to head off for golf around 2pm...so we women headed for the grocery store to round up the rest of our food for the evening. We had a nice BBQ dinner (grilled poolside) and snuggled in to bed early again.
Day 4...August 3rd...I named this day "Kona Kraze" b/c we went to church at 9:30am and didn't come home from Kona (which is 30 min. south of our place) until 6pm that evening! We attended a soulful service at a sweet little chapel tucked way up the hill in lush green palms, followed by a delicious brunch at the Kona Country Club, snorkeling (all be it short-lived due to Alianna's turtle scare) on a rustic Kona shore, and then tons of "running around." We had to hit the Farmer's Market for our fresh fruit, then Wal-Mart for necesities (i.e. diapers and toothpaste), and finally COSTCO for the most lucrative food supply. By the time we reached our "home sweet home," the girls were beyond tired and ready to tear us all to pieces. We vowed to NOT do that next Sunday.
Day 5...August 4th...Dad and Pierce were up and going by 9am for 36...yes ThIRTY SIX...holes of golf. Mom and I took the girls to the beach, then the pool, and then inside for some much-needed R&R away from water! Dinner was quick, but only so we could fit in the run to get ice cream. The girls were in heaven (but little did they know that we passed up our share of ice cream so we could still eat the rest of the week--ONE SCOOP was $6!!!), and we had a hard time getting them to leave the little shops. We finally made it back and got everyone nestled into bed. So now I'm on this silly computer playing catch up with my blogspot. Memories are worth holding onto, and sometimes I regret not keeping track of them...so now I can go to bed knowing I have at least gotten down the basics. Hopefully the next entries will prove to be more exciting.
Tuesday, July 29, 2008
Can it Really be True?
The Lord very clearly is at work around us, and in us. He has promised to heal...and yet we know not everyone will be a recipient of that healing. There have been many times in my life where I have had to question "what sin is standing in the way of my healing?" And sometimes I feel that nothing is, but I'm still not getting better. And there have been times where I beg for mercy, and God readily replies with a resoudning YES! and I feel better within hours. There is no science to when or how to ask for healing...but there is FAITH.
There was once a woman of great faith who had been bleeding for many years (some of you know this story if you've read it in the Bible). Jesus was surrounded by people, shoulder to shoulder, crowded in by sweaty, anxious men, women, and children from all walks of life. And in this moment, we see this bleeding woman reach out and merely touch the cloak of the Savior. He feels the power leave him and turns to see who it was. The humble woman looks up at him from weary, anxious, tearfilled eyes, and receives a resounding YES..."Your faith has healed you," He says. WOW! There are so many more stories like this one in God's word. But it does NOT stop there.
GOD TV has been broadcasting a Healing Revival in Florida for months now. Some of you may have seen it, and some may not even know what the heck I'm talking about. But it has been incredible! I will not deny my human skepticism when I see someone rise, shaking and "convulsing in the Spirit," I have learned to look at these people with great faith and awe. God is a God of the impossible! And if we limit our faith and limit our own prayer life, we will not see His mighty hand at work.
My mother is a blessed example of heart-felt praise and faith...and when I see her eyes well up with tears of joy over one of His precious children being healed, I am rendered speechless because of my own puny faith. I feel the need to immediately experience it myself so I too can believe in His miraculous healing power. But that most certainly is not the need...the need lies within my need to believe PERIOD! He is who He says He is. Most recently, I received an email, with photos, from my mom of a friend of hers who was paralyzed in an accident. My mother, at the time, told this woman she would be praying for healing and that she would one day see her walk again. The email depicted a beautiful, smiling woman standing with little support from a walker...and each photo that followed showed her taking one more step, one more step...she is WALKING! The joy and excitement in my mother's voice when we spoke on the phone was so chilling that I wanted to run and tell everyone the good news.
So why is it that I find it so hard to believe...to ask for healing for others or even myself? Sure, God may choose to NOT heal, and in that, we must trust that He has a greater purpose and a higher calling. But He most certainly can and most certainly DOES still heal! Can it really be true? Oh, Yes, Lord, it really IS true!
There was once a woman of great faith who had been bleeding for many years (some of you know this story if you've read it in the Bible). Jesus was surrounded by people, shoulder to shoulder, crowded in by sweaty, anxious men, women, and children from all walks of life. And in this moment, we see this bleeding woman reach out and merely touch the cloak of the Savior. He feels the power leave him and turns to see who it was. The humble woman looks up at him from weary, anxious, tearfilled eyes, and receives a resounding YES..."Your faith has healed you," He says. WOW! There are so many more stories like this one in God's word. But it does NOT stop there.
GOD TV has been broadcasting a Healing Revival in Florida for months now. Some of you may have seen it, and some may not even know what the heck I'm talking about. But it has been incredible! I will not deny my human skepticism when I see someone rise, shaking and "convulsing in the Spirit," I have learned to look at these people with great faith and awe. God is a God of the impossible! And if we limit our faith and limit our own prayer life, we will not see His mighty hand at work.
My mother is a blessed example of heart-felt praise and faith...and when I see her eyes well up with tears of joy over one of His precious children being healed, I am rendered speechless because of my own puny faith. I feel the need to immediately experience it myself so I too can believe in His miraculous healing power. But that most certainly is not the need...the need lies within my need to believe PERIOD! He is who He says He is. Most recently, I received an email, with photos, from my mom of a friend of hers who was paralyzed in an accident. My mother, at the time, told this woman she would be praying for healing and that she would one day see her walk again. The email depicted a beautiful, smiling woman standing with little support from a walker...and each photo that followed showed her taking one more step, one more step...she is WALKING! The joy and excitement in my mother's voice when we spoke on the phone was so chilling that I wanted to run and tell everyone the good news.
So why is it that I find it so hard to believe...to ask for healing for others or even myself? Sure, God may choose to NOT heal, and in that, we must trust that He has a greater purpose and a higher calling. But He most certainly can and most certainly DOES still heal! Can it really be true? Oh, Yes, Lord, it really IS true!
Saturday, May 31, 2008
Open the Drawer and Read It!
My heart is in a fragile state, and yet if one could see it, they would hardly call it fragile. It's more like "hard as a rock." How have I allowed my heart to become so hard? And how can a heart grow hard towards someone who is supposed to be my "best friend," "soulmate," and "lover"?
A few nights ago, I crawled into bed, weary from my exhausting day and emotionally drained from my inner battles. I just wanted to read my short Bible passage and go to sleep...all within 2 minutes. But I felt the Lord tugging on my heart..."open your drawer and get out Power of a Praying Wife." "Oh, but Father, I am so exhausted...please..." And then a gentle pushing..."Please just do it." I went from laying in exhaustion to frantically pulling all fifty things out of my nightstand drawer (I found lots of things I hadn't seen in a while!)...and there it was! I laid back down and began to read the very beginning...not wanting to miss a thing. The words jumped off the page and grabbed me. I felt like I was Stormie Omartian...as if I'd written each word myself (I will include the key paragraphs as a separate entry later). I knew God wanted me to hear HIM through her writing. And I did.
Yet I still felt so sad and so overwhelmed. I want to be "that wife." The one that wins over her husband by her quiet and gentle spirit. But, sadly, I am not "that wife." Somehow I have allowed Satan to get a foothold with my bitterness and my sorrow. I realize this, and I hate this! I want to be a Proverbs 31 woman. But I feel like an HBO woman (you know what I mean!). This cannot be, Lord! This cannot continue! Rip out my ugliness and make me snap out of this! I know it's not about me...it's about YOU.
And so it goes, I have picked up that book every night since then and re-read the pages...seeking desperately for it to sink in. I did open the drawer, and I read it! If only the rest came so easily.
I suppose it all boils down to obedience...sounds so easy, but so far it's not.
A few nights ago, I crawled into bed, weary from my exhausting day and emotionally drained from my inner battles. I just wanted to read my short Bible passage and go to sleep...all within 2 minutes. But I felt the Lord tugging on my heart..."open your drawer and get out Power of a Praying Wife." "Oh, but Father, I am so exhausted...please..." And then a gentle pushing..."Please just do it." I went from laying in exhaustion to frantically pulling all fifty things out of my nightstand drawer (I found lots of things I hadn't seen in a while!)...and there it was! I laid back down and began to read the very beginning...not wanting to miss a thing. The words jumped off the page and grabbed me. I felt like I was Stormie Omartian...as if I'd written each word myself (I will include the key paragraphs as a separate entry later). I knew God wanted me to hear HIM through her writing. And I did.
Yet I still felt so sad and so overwhelmed. I want to be "that wife." The one that wins over her husband by her quiet and gentle spirit. But, sadly, I am not "that wife." Somehow I have allowed Satan to get a foothold with my bitterness and my sorrow. I realize this, and I hate this! I want to be a Proverbs 31 woman. But I feel like an HBO woman (you know what I mean!). This cannot be, Lord! This cannot continue! Rip out my ugliness and make me snap out of this! I know it's not about me...it's about YOU.
And so it goes, I have picked up that book every night since then and re-read the pages...seeking desperately for it to sink in. I did open the drawer, and I read it! If only the rest came so easily.
I suppose it all boils down to obedience...sounds so easy, but so far it's not.
Friday, November 16, 2007
Kirby
This past Wednesday, I decided to take my children on an adventure...and therefore took myself on one too. I have been wanting to show my husband different ways we can try to be more creative with cutting back on expenses, so I picked the one day I'm not responsible for taking anyone to school (because that requires having 4 children in my car and getting two of them to school by 11:45am)...and we rode THE BUS!!! or shall I say two buses! It was Bible Study day for mommy, so we would need to be at the church by 9am.
At about 7:35am, my two older daughters shouted down from upstairs to ask if they could play "baby" and put on my youngest's diapers. I quickly responded, "No, please get dressed and hurry down to eat...we are taking the bus today, and we have to eat and get out the door in 25 minutes or we'll miss it. They were excited and tried to comply...but we all know kid time is often vastly different from adult time. So, at 3 minutes past 8am, I began to get mommy stress..."hurry up, please, we have to go NOW!" I managed to grab everything, shove it into a backpack, throw the stroller in the car and buckle in my children in about 1 minute flat. We were at the park-n-ride by 8:11am. The bus was coming at 8:13am...but I suppose my clock was slow b/c we ended up having to wait for the 8:28am bus. Oh well! As it pulled up, we gathered our 500 items (as is the norm with three children under 6), collapsed the stroller and got on the bus.
I was trailing behind my 5 & 3 year olds, carrying my one year old, and trying to keep up. I paid the fare and looked up to see them at the VERY BACK of the bus...and there was not an empty spot on the bus. I squeezed my way to the back and tried towiggle in between the two of them, but my three year old protested because she wanted to sit next to her sister. I tried to sit on the other side of her, and managed to sit ON her instead! that didnt' go over too well. As I finally sat down, I shamefully looked up into the face of the stranger that I was suddenly uncomfortably rubbing shoulders with. He had a kind face, and an even kinder smile. I apologized, and he quickly said "No problem." Phew...I was in the clear.
After a few silent moments, I decided to make small talk by telling him that I had left the itinerary at home (which I had strategically printed out the night before). He laughed, and then quickly offered to help. And it just so happened that he knew exactly which route I should take and which bus to hop on at the main depot in Boulder. As we sat smashed like sardines, the girls began to get hungry and ask for snacks. I explained tha tthey would have to wait. My three year old said, "I don't wanna take the bus. I want to go in the car." I said, "why?" "Because this isn't fun, mommy." I said, "sure it is (yeah right)." I think I was trying to convince myself as well as her. But inside, I began thinking, my children are so priveleged...and it's because of the blessing of being able to drive everywhere we want....man, we should do this more often so they realize it's not always so easy. Okay, so back to the story...
When we got off at the depot to change buses, our friend, Kirby (as the girls had sweetly found out), walked over and handed the girls each a granola bar...how kind! We went inside to wait, and I bought the girls a drink to share...again, they showed their "over-priveleged selves" by asking to each have their own. But once we sat down, all was well again, and we gratefully sipped our drink together. Kirby reminded us that we had about 9 more minutes 'til the next bus would arrive. We got on together, and the girls were so fond of him by now that they had to sit with him...and even argued over who could sit right by him. It was quite sweet. We reached our drop-off, said our good-byes, and began our 1 mile (I think) trek from the bus stop to the church.
It was only about 42 degrees that day, and it seemed like such a long walk. But as we walked, I began to feel warmth flooding my heart. For I knew that "Kirby" was the angel God had sent to make that challenge a bit easier. Maybe he was a real man, and maybe we will see him again some day...but maybe he really was an angel. Either way, I knew that my God did not leave or forsake me when I needed Him.
The girls and I learned a lot that day...a lot about each other, about ourselves, and about our Abba Daddy. He loves us, and He blesses us when we are obedient and pure in heart. Oh, but just so you don't expect to see us on that bus every Wednesday, I'm not so sure we will brave that trek this winter. We'll give it another shot when it's a bit warmer.
At about 7:35am, my two older daughters shouted down from upstairs to ask if they could play "baby" and put on my youngest's diapers. I quickly responded, "No, please get dressed and hurry down to eat...we are taking the bus today, and we have to eat and get out the door in 25 minutes or we'll miss it. They were excited and tried to comply...but we all know kid time is often vastly different from adult time. So, at 3 minutes past 8am, I began to get mommy stress..."hurry up, please, we have to go NOW!" I managed to grab everything, shove it into a backpack, throw the stroller in the car and buckle in my children in about 1 minute flat. We were at the park-n-ride by 8:11am. The bus was coming at 8:13am...but I suppose my clock was slow b/c we ended up having to wait for the 8:28am bus. Oh well! As it pulled up, we gathered our 500 items (as is the norm with three children under 6), collapsed the stroller and got on the bus.
I was trailing behind my 5 & 3 year olds, carrying my one year old, and trying to keep up. I paid the fare and looked up to see them at the VERY BACK of the bus...and there was not an empty spot on the bus. I squeezed my way to the back and tried towiggle in between the two of them, but my three year old protested because she wanted to sit next to her sister. I tried to sit on the other side of her, and managed to sit ON her instead! that didnt' go over too well. As I finally sat down, I shamefully looked up into the face of the stranger that I was suddenly uncomfortably rubbing shoulders with. He had a kind face, and an even kinder smile. I apologized, and he quickly said "No problem." Phew...I was in the clear.
After a few silent moments, I decided to make small talk by telling him that I had left the itinerary at home (which I had strategically printed out the night before). He laughed, and then quickly offered to help. And it just so happened that he knew exactly which route I should take and which bus to hop on at the main depot in Boulder. As we sat smashed like sardines, the girls began to get hungry and ask for snacks. I explained tha tthey would have to wait. My three year old said, "I don't wanna take the bus. I want to go in the car." I said, "why?" "Because this isn't fun, mommy." I said, "sure it is (yeah right)." I think I was trying to convince myself as well as her. But inside, I began thinking, my children are so priveleged...and it's because of the blessing of being able to drive everywhere we want....man, we should do this more often so they realize it's not always so easy. Okay, so back to the story...
When we got off at the depot to change buses, our friend, Kirby (as the girls had sweetly found out), walked over and handed the girls each a granola bar...how kind! We went inside to wait, and I bought the girls a drink to share...again, they showed their "over-priveleged selves" by asking to each have their own. But once we sat down, all was well again, and we gratefully sipped our drink together. Kirby reminded us that we had about 9 more minutes 'til the next bus would arrive. We got on together, and the girls were so fond of him by now that they had to sit with him...and even argued over who could sit right by him. It was quite sweet. We reached our drop-off, said our good-byes, and began our 1 mile (I think) trek from the bus stop to the church.
It was only about 42 degrees that day, and it seemed like such a long walk. But as we walked, I began to feel warmth flooding my heart. For I knew that "Kirby" was the angel God had sent to make that challenge a bit easier. Maybe he was a real man, and maybe we will see him again some day...but maybe he really was an angel. Either way, I knew that my God did not leave or forsake me when I needed Him.
The girls and I learned a lot that day...a lot about each other, about ourselves, and about our Abba Daddy. He loves us, and He blesses us when we are obedient and pure in heart. Oh, but just so you don't expect to see us on that bus every Wednesday, I'm not so sure we will brave that trek this winter. We'll give it another shot when it's a bit warmer.
Monday, November 12, 2007
It's a good thing God is in control!
Do you ever feel like you just can't do anything well? Not right...just well. I have been feeling that way for a few weeks now...like I am not doing anything well--not doing well at parenting, not doing well at being a wife, not doing well and surrendering to God, not being a good steward of money, not managing my time well, not eating well, and not being a very good vessel for the Lord.
I just want so much to be used by Him, and I want to be that quiet and gentle presence in my husband's, kids', and friends' lives. But I am so far from that lately, and my spirit is drowning in sorrow. It's a good thing that God is in control...because He sure can make beauty of my mess!
I'm waiting, Lord, lying on my back, arms open wide, just wanting to be all You created me to be. Please forgive me for not surrendering my all to you. Please use me in spite of my flaws. I want to jump up and run into Your arms. You are my Rock and Fortress...and Praise You for being my Redeemer!!! I love you, Lord.
I just want so much to be used by Him, and I want to be that quiet and gentle presence in my husband's, kids', and friends' lives. But I am so far from that lately, and my spirit is drowning in sorrow. It's a good thing that God is in control...because He sure can make beauty of my mess!
I'm waiting, Lord, lying on my back, arms open wide, just wanting to be all You created me to be. Please forgive me for not surrendering my all to you. Please use me in spite of my flaws. I want to jump up and run into Your arms. You are my Rock and Fortress...and Praise You for being my Redeemer!!! I love you, Lord.
Sunday, October 14, 2007
Just Starting Out
I had the blessing of spending a few hours with a dear friend yesterday. Christy and I (both mothers of THREE girls) took time to have lunch, chat, and get manicures...what a treat! But the best part about it was just being together and not having to worry about taking care of anyone for a little while. She encouraged me to get into blogging...so here I go! I feel like a technical foreigner sometimes when it comes to plunging into the world of i-pods, downloads, and now blog sites...but I'm trying!
I want this site to be REAL...not candy-coated creative writing...so what you get is what you see! I hope that people will read and realize that my life is not all about me and that sometimes you just have to vent! I'm excited to read about others too, and maybe in the middle of it all gain some valuable insight. Here goes...the journey has begun!
I want this site to be REAL...not candy-coated creative writing...so what you get is what you see! I hope that people will read and realize that my life is not all about me and that sometimes you just have to vent! I'm excited to read about others too, and maybe in the middle of it all gain some valuable insight. Here goes...the journey has begun!
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