Desperate Survivor

A sickness usually teaches more than a sermon. Thomas Watson

In the fall of 2007 I was doubting if I was really in love with Jesus, and if I really wanted to be rid of my sin, so I looked for a method of measurement. John Owen said in that you must see if you are sermon or sick - proof, 'you that were tender, and used to melt under the word, under afflictions, will grow as some have profanely spoken "sermon-proof and sickness proof". Honestly, this has been my measuring stick, I am a person of reason, I think through emotions, I don't feel my way through much of anything.

The month of August has brought much sickness, I wrestled with an ovarian cyst, I did not know existed, for 5 days. In the middle of the night when the pain brought me back to a time when I was 7 cm dilated, in transition, ready to give birth to our second child, I remembered this measuring stick of mine. I crumbled, I told God, "I need you to take this pain away." But I was holding back in my, too deep to discern, heart what if I have to survive this? What if I just have to muscle this one out? What if I have to figure it out? After my doctor's visit I realized it could have been much worse and was thankful for the opportunity to 'muscle it out', a true survivor's heart.

Two days later I followed my daughter in the combat against a stomach virus, oh joy of joy's I thought. I just had my first normal meal after the five days of toast. I have a real fear of the stomach virus, something that Mom's with multiple children can all agree upon, it's the worst. But I took up my measuring stick and prayed, "I need you Jesus to have mercy on my daughter and I." But, I was holding back thinking, what if I have to survive this one too.

Ten days later, after being diagnosed my an adenovirus that we got from whoknowswhere, Sydney and I are still weak, stomach cautious, and ready to move from toast to, as Sydney says, 'ribs' (A fondness I do not share). Chad was telling me about a friend of his who had a broken foot, who Chad prayed for, and the foot is healed. Whamo, just like that. Immediately I confessed my sin, jealousy, frustration wondering why I have to be the one to suit up and hold steady. Fear came in to upset me further and I began to pray, then Chad begins to pray and faith rose. It has been a year full of health problems, and I can tell you that I am not sick-proof or sermon-proof. I am however, cautious, wondering whether or not I am going to have to 'survive' and walk with a limp or 'be healed' and leap for joy.

Our pastor ended last week's sermon with this from from Dr. Waltke, “The limp is the posture of the saint.” No more need to control and leverage every situation.

A new willingness to live by the apparent precariousness of the promises of God.

A new willingness to be weakened with a limp, in order to be strengthened by grace.

If you will face up to what God says you are and put away your posing,

God will surprise you with his blessing.

You will limp.

But you will walk into a new dawn of blessing from heaven above.

Come to Christ as you are, and he will give you himself as he is.

Psalm 103: 2 - 3

Bless the Lord, O my soul,

and forget not all his benefits,

who forgives all your iniquity,

who heals all your diseases,

Multitude Mondays

What I am thankful for this week, before the week gets away from me.

1. That He wants us to lament, He is moved by our desperation.

2. The energy He gives for my life to be an act of worship.

3. Success at a Mother-daughter clothes shopping trip. Whew!!!

4. Learning to not have anything to prove.

5. Faith in resting my achilles tendon.

6. Dreams about running.

7. My son on all fours praying in earnest for the healing of my ankle.

8. How much my children miss their Dad and realizing it's more than okay.

9. The book, 'The Kings Cross", so good.

10. Love offerings.

Happy Birthday Dear Sydney

My daughter is turning ten. We already celebrated her Birthday because her Dad is leaving for New Zealand, and will miss her actual day. Her choice for this celebration was anything Narnian. So, we had a map for a cake, a scavenger hunt for a quest, and cake with root beer for grub. One of the steps of the quest was to swing on this vine. Where but in the south do you find vines the size of buildings and a break in the temperature for a January Birthday swing. It was exhilarating to watch the kids swing. This photo captured my little girl perfectly, she loves adventure, friends, and cool weather. I asked her why she likes the Dawn Treader so much, she said she likes the idea that "if we fall, we shall all rise again." She was then surprised when I showed her Micah 7:8 "when I fall, I shall rise again; when I sit in the darkness the Lord shall be a light to me." I am so thankful for this child, my firstborn, my girl, a star rising, I am so proud of her. She delights to see others happy, her biggest concern for her party is that everyone would just have a good time. She is forever a peacemaker.

Gratitude list:

A much needed math workbook for David

Birthday gifts for Syd

Friday's, when friends come and real conversion fills my heart

a husband's calling even if it means travel

phone calls from my brothers

thawing icicles

the promise of a spring trip

inductive Bible study

a much needed run after the ice melted

the beginning of another decade

Lord, make me thankful

Monday's are reserved for a list of gratitude,

I was reminded of my needing to be thankful yesterday as I fell prey to homesickness and comparison. Forgive me Lord, and help me to remember Deut. 8:2 "that he might humble you, testing you, to know what was in your heart, that you may know that man does not live by bread alone, but by every word that comes from the mouth of the Lord."

friends that remain close despite life's many changes

my mother's diligence

my father's abundant gifts finding their way into my pockets

children's excitement over the progression of gift opening

snow flurries that sweep the pavement while we drive

the story of our vision bringing tears anew

a daughter's first

my son's words "Mommy you are so pretty" as I put on old flannel pajamas

a place to go on Friday's

anticipation of the coming week

I am praying that God will help me to enjoy this week of Christmas as I thank Him for the many things he has provided.

Deut. 8:18 "You shall remember the Lord your God, for it is is he who gives you power to get wealth"

I know I put my heart some where…

Parenting for me has been somewhat mechanical. This machine like quality has carried me through some rough times. There are so many new Mother’s at our church, and I caught myself remembering back to this time of baby-hood where I started down the slide of unresponsiveness. You see it’s hard to always respond to the Holy Spirit immediately when you have a baby attached to your chest, your toddler has “gotta go potty”, or your older child is flexed in anxiety. Sometimes your feelings are so strong, you are apart of how the Spirit might be moving or working in a group, but your primary reflex is the child by your side.

So, you don’t say anything, you don’t go forward, you don’t say anything to
the person in need, and your prayers get turned inside out by the temper
tantrum transforming before your eyes.

Personally, this ‘setting aside’ of my inclinations became a pattern.
I accepted that this was just not my time in life to be apart of the group, and it
appeased my already aloof nature just fine. I worked hard at what was going
on in the temporal world, things that I could control. But the ever-present
guilt of not following the Spirit immediately remained.

All of us Mom’s have to push past sleep deprivation, painful relationships,
loss of relationships, homesickness, and numerous personal issues so that
we can just feed the baby. Somebody still has to, it’s great that my husband
can stop everything to get ‘right’ with God, but somebody still has to make
the peanut butter and jellies, wash the dirty laundry, smile and kiss the sticky
faces and fingers. But in the process I was never dealing with the pain or joy
on the inside, so what was going on in my soul never showed itself in my
outward state. I stifled my response, to the point I didn’t know what I felt.
I literally thought, “Who cares what you feel, feelings are here today and
gone tomorrow.” My heart was grievously misplaced. Why didn’t the will
that could push through life’s upsets push back to the Spirit-Father when the
children were asleep and the husband was away? The satisfaction of a clean
house and a tidy demeanor replaced my need for Him.

Seven years later I was still so busy trying to be responsible for everyone
else I forgot how to respond to my God and King. I watched in awe at
younger, more ‘heart healthy’ women respond to the Lord in a church
service with such exactness that I could not understand.

I remember thinking how do you do that? How do you put your feelings first, know that
they are pure feelings, and then follow through? I had forgotten a boldness
from my youth. The Creator God who made me to worship still wanted a
relationship with me that was more than militant. He reminds me that he
wants me to want Him, He wants to know what I feel, and yet I cannot seem
to articulate what I feel. The God I thought was my very useful, highly
acclaimed, commanding officer wanted to hold my hand and remind me who
I was. He came and searched my heart for things of my spirit because He
cares so much. Much enraged I lifted my fist at Him and said, “How dare
you, I can’t even get into my heart, how did you?” Where is that heart of
mine anyway?

Now, I know that my personality isn’t exactly constructed for doing a jig
around the church or even shouting out a hearty ‘amen’. But, I have found
myself crying out to God asking him, “Could you just make the head and the
heart work at the same time, and don’t forget to help my lips move.” It is
really hard for me, I would much rather secure my position on the line than
have to hear the utterance of my voice at any point. This is my struggle.

There is a reason while 1 Tim 2:15 says, “and she will be saved through
childbearing,” it’s because you have to stay true to your first Love who will
give you faith, love, holiness and self-control despite the demands your other
love’s throw at you. If you are in the middle of a diaper change, a sick little
one, a behavior issue, when the Lord comes near look full into His face and
catch His care for you. Don’t be like this writer and misunderstand that He
doesn’t want you to drop the baby so you can stand at attention. He just
wants your heart and that is something you give with full arms and a heavy
load.

Grace and Peace to You.

The day after the clocks turn back.

Monday after any time change come much to quickly for me despite the supposed extra hour of sleep that my son didn't know we were to have. I managed to wield a great school day, but as 4:15 snuck up on me and I realized that it was getting dark and I had three loads of clothes to fold, supper to get into the crock pot, and a task list to make for my husband to complete so we could all enjoy a meal together. I mechanically worked through the tasks at hand, and was patting myself on the back as I made another sock snowball for the drawer. That's when I hear my nine year old scolding my five year old about the mess he had made on the kitchen floor. I was actually noting the maternal tone to her voice, and thinking about how exalting it is to hear her God given ability to scold play out before my ears. Well, I should have gone to check on the son who had been reminded to clean up his mess. I made it downstairs with no minutes to spare before we high-tailed it to swim practice, when I found the dog's water had been upset into a pool on the kitchen floor. Dog and child were splashing about in it. I wanted to sop them up with the water and ring them out.

Now, the spirit-filled, God fearing woman that I am should have said, "We all make messes, now help Moma clean them." But oh no, I had to grip the child by the shoulder and shake him just so as to make his teeth rattle. Which he took note of, and began humming in the back of his throat so it made that sound that kids like to make when they hum while going over bumps in the car. This produced a giggle from the child who I was shaking which just sent me over the edge. I pulled his body to mine and whacked his back quarters three times rather harshly. He then produced a pout and an impenitent sob. Dish towels (we all know they are just for dishes) and a nearby rug served as mops and we all got into the car. After replaying the past 10 minutes in my head, feeling the guilt rush in, and the "I can't believe I lost it like that" come from my mouth. I said, "D, can you forgive me for shaking you." And he does, every time.

I made an agreement with me that I was going to chill out and just pray and think while we waited for practice to end. The swimmers came out of the pool to awaiting towels, and as I escorted my swimmer to the family locker room I vaguely remembered noticing a sludge coming from her shoes. After arrival to the locked changing room I verified caked mud from the bottom and inside of her favorite sandals. There was a mud puddle the size of large pie around her feet. The exchange she made with my eyes was irrevocably, fear. First the old lady sigh came from my pit, and then the eyebrow, usually the right, one signifying I am done. She apologizes immediately, four years on her little brother, she knows that it's best to just confess and apologize. I had to let the tongue go again, dog gone it, and I roughly shoved her foot into one pant leg and manhandled the other wet leg into the warm-up clothes. Once again in a two hour time frame I was using absorbent anything to tackle a mess I did not make. I don't know what I said before this, but I have a name I call her when she has slowed me down, "Are ya ready Gertrude?" It is a weak and evil thing to mock a child. I wished that I hadn't done it as soon as I did. She looked down and said, "I don't know where all that mud came from."

The car ride was quiet and I was so looking forward to dinner and a table ready for the mess making, mess cleaning bunch. The cook had lost track of time and was scrambling to cover up the fact that he had not followed his list. This talented individual who calls me help-mate forgot to put the pre-packaged all white meat nuggets in the oven.

After tucking my daughter into bed, she smiled at me (I couldn't believe it either), and said, "You really gave it to Daddy." And this is when you say...

I didn't give anything good, in fact, I could have given grace to you, your brother, and your Dad, but I didn't and I am really sorry. I need Jesus to help me see that messes are made for us to see that we just need Him to help us clean 'em.

Grace giving God, help me to give good gifts to my kids, to anyone in my reach, and mend the ears of my kids from the foolish things I said today. That cup of tea never tasted so good after the goodnights were said, the dishes were done, and the assorted wet articles went into the washer.

When A Sister is Hurting

October 4, 2010

Lastnight we got a call from Julie, Chad’s sister, the newborn was worse, his nasal congestion was awful, Julie hadn’t slept, but no fever and he is eating and peeing. She asked for me. This sister, my sister, I was wanting to reach through the phone lines days prior, but big brother prays loud and demonstrative to the powers of sickness. I wring my hands for the little baby and the bend in the back of my little sister. I could feel my fist form as I wanted to know whether the doctors in a foreign land were doing everything possible. But I know our Father is listening to the prayers and to the plea’s. I join the praying, hoping that the baby’s body will fight. This time I heard her ask for me. I took the phone with a sigh, hearing the tearful cry of one of my own, it feels so unjust for some reason not to be able to do anything. Instead of crying with her I ask questions, the Martha takes over, what has been done, how is he breathing, and what is the plan. Then I hear her voice trail off… Almost like a second nature I tell her what I know to be true. That she is a good Mother, that she is doing everything she can, that she will get through this, that she needs to sleep when she can, and ask for more help. But I knew there was a hesitation in her voice. What was that? I went to bed only to be tormented and I prayed against guilt.

She feels guilty because she has had to make choices for herself that affect her child. These are the choices that twist and turn our insides out. Oh, the sanctification of child bearing, and she was getting a double shot. In a short amount of time she has had a baby, surgery, and now this sickness. I know how hard this is, the temptation to give up, to curse, to find blame, and I know that she is so familiar with her Father and His love for her. I am so confident in her. I prayed and prayed and when we awoke I felt tired, but I am sure not as tired as she is. I reach for the phone.

I can hear life, the going’s on of everyday child rearing, the oldest voicing her joy at the beauty in the day because the Moma already did so. I am thankful for this, the sorrow our children force us out of just because we are Moma’’s. There is no guilt here, no place for the enemy to swallow her up. She is the first Mary I ever really knew and came to love. The baby is still sick, our heads are still bowed, and the Lord is big enough to handle the small.

My gratitude list:

hike's with eager children

heart shaped rocks

the smell of the forest in autumn

pockets full of acorns

a friend that shares

a husband that takes teasing well

the anticipation of long Saturday morning runs

newlyweds

honeycrisp apples

my parents resolve to be missional

cigar muffled prayers

Had to push through that last one. Yup, I'm thankful.