I love the Lord.

I love my Savior.

More than words can say, I love Him.

I may not walk around with a huge smile on my face all the time, but my heart is ever grateful for the sacrifice that I still find unfathomable.

I may not do the best job of publicly noting everything that goes well throughout a day, but He always receives at least whispered thanks the moment I recognize a blessing, no matter how small.

I may seem to have a lot of struggles and frustrations, but I always bring them to Him first, and always with the knowledge that He alone is my hope and defense, my strength and my peace.

I may fail countless times and in countless ways as a mom and wife and friend, but I try again because I trust that His grace covers me and my many failings, and that one day, He will complete the good work He has begun in me.

I may not be adept at offering words of encouragement, but I pray…for my husband and kids and family, for our pastors and church leaders, for struggling friends, and for whomever God may place on my heart…and I believe His word when it says that the effective, fervent prayer of a righteous man avails much.

I may not look like the typical swooning Christian, but my heart is His.  Completely.

I like this song.

I tend to feel the need to explain myself, even if it’s just for my peace of mind…I hate to be misunderstood.  So, here is my explanation for my bluntness, honesty, and sometimes lack of “redemptive” tone in my writing.  It may seem a bit muddled, since it is something that I think has a lot of underlying motivations for me, but I’ll do my best to be clear.

First, I feel a distinct lack of honesty when reading most blogs and interacting with most people.  No, I don’t think everyone needs to share every last detail of how they struggle.  But, I do think that if somebody makes a point of sharing about God’s work of redemption in their lives, it is necessary to share what they are redeemed from, to some extent, and to remind those who are taking note that it is still a work in progress.  Honestly, if the struggles get glossed over and bad situations always presented in the best possible light, that just makes me think that, somehow, God’s redemption is working in that person’s life in a way I have never seen in my own.  From what I’ve been told, in theory, everyone has bad days, everyone has moments and behaviors that don’t get prettier with time, other than in the sense that, by God’s grace, that sin is covered and remembered no more.  So why does everything have to have a positive spin to it, even above and beyond just the remembrance that we are sinners saved by grace?  And why is it so terrible to let someone see that we have moments and days when our falterings are in the realm of our faith, too?  My salvation isn’t lost, and if someone cares enough to read what’s being written, or listen to what’s being said more than in just the snapshot of one conversation or one blog post, they can see that it’s just that I have struggles…struggles that I daily lift to the Lord and seek His help in overcoming.  And I think that’s something that is extremely important to see in someone who is trying to speak about redemption.

Secondly, I grew up with very little positive examples of how to successfully live life.  I know that sounds a bit overarching, but it is really true.  I was never shown in any capacity how to raise godly children, or keep a home, or be a submissive and loving wife,  or maintain a strong relationship with the Lord.  Nor have I had anyone in my life since becoming an adult who has taken time to “pour into” me their wisdom in these matters.  So, my recourse is to observe and set my personal standards by what I see and hear.  I know, it’s not ideal, but it is how I function…and given my limited options, I don’t think it is all that unreasonable.  However, this approach proves kind of hard when the only thing anyone lets others see is perfection.  If nobody ever says that they had an argument with their husband, or lost it with their kids, or failed to get the vacuuming done this week (or last week, or the week before…), my standards for myself get set set impossibly high, and I see myself failing at every turn.  Even if I can see that those expectations of myself are too high, I can’t lower them because I don’t have an acceptable lower threshold.  And you know what?  In the rare instance that someone does share a glimpse into the imperfectness of their lives, especially when it is easy to otherwise see God’s grace at work, they don’t appear to be less of an example of redemption and purpose, but more.

And it gives me hope that God can still use me in spite of me.

Despite my best attempts to be honest, I find that I often fall into the trap of painting life with a rose-colored tint.  This may seem laughable to some (that what I write is a rosier picture than reality) but it’s true.  So, here is a dose of untinted reality.

I went to bed around 10:30 last night.  I did not get out of bed until 7:45 this morning…and I’m still exhausted.  Elijah screamed for a while in the middle of the night.  I did not get up to check on him.  I was too tired.  I was fairly certain that he was having teething pain, since he has a couple molars pushing their way in.  So, I tried to speak some soothing words to him in my half-awake state, and let him cry himself back to sleep.  As usual, I slept poorly due to sciatic nerve pain, and arms and hands that routinely “fell asleep” during the night, and a sore throat that came out of nowhere.

Upon getting up this morning, I took a long shower (maybe 45 minutes?) and tried to ignore the random screams that came from my kids that had nothing better to do.  Well, actually, they were supposed to be making beds, getting clothes out for the day and reading, but obedience usually doesn’t happen unless I check in on them every 15 seconds.

When I was done showering, I had one child take a shower, and once dressed, I proceeded to yell at another child for not having their bed made.  No love or grace was demonstrated…I was just furious that this child had ignored very clear instructions, again.  I bathed Elijah, then discovered crayon in his mouth when I brushed his teeth.  I cleaned it out, scolding him all the while.  I read my Bible (with obviously a great attitude).  Caedmon made breakfast for the kids.  I made my bed and made breakfast for Tim and me (milk has been bothering me, so we didn’t do cereal like the kids).  It was now 9:30.

I read a devotional to the kids and asked a few brief questions.  I played with the trainset with Nathanael and Elijah for a few minutes while Bethany worked on phonics and Caedmon showered.  I checked my email and a few things online.  I half-heartedly tried teaching Nathanael his numbers 11-20.  Elijah ate another crayon.  I got angry with Bethany for disobeying me.  Caedmon loudly practiced piano.  And I had worship music playing in the background but didn’t really listen at all.

I sent Bethany upstairs to take a shower, after explaining the same math problem to her 5 times.  Then I decided to write here, because my day – my life – has me feeling like a big failure again.  It is almost noon and I have gotten next to nothing accomplished today.  And I kind of wish it was just about me being lazy.  But it isn’t.  My body aches.  I am exhausted.  I am still not entirely over a cold that I have had for almost 4 weeks.  I spent one day this week with an upset stomach, another day day with a horrible headache and today I have a sore throat.  I hate to make excuses.

And I wonder if everyone else feels like this all the time and just bites the bullet and does what needs doing anyway, or if there’s something wrong with me that I never feel good.  In either case, I feel like I’m clearly not good enough and I become envious of every other mother / wife / homemaker out there who functions well on a few hours sleep, who gets up early, who has productive mornings, who deals patiently and lovingly with their children, who can force herself to get things done even when she’s sick.

How am I supposed to be okay with myself when I see those examples?  I am not someone who gets challenged and convicted by seeing someone doing something better than me…I just feel condemned and hopeless.  I don’t know how God can see me as someone worth His time, and since I often feel like He’s ignoring me anyway, it becomes really difficult to convince myself that I am.  I know this is not encouraging or uplifting in any way.  But it is honest.  And I think sometimes people need to see honesty, even when it’s not pretty.

For most of my adult life, I have sort of subconsciously felt that I have an agreement with God.  I [we] would be faithful in giving, hold loosely to our material possessions, value family and faith above wealth always, seek Him diligently in financial matters….and in return, He would make sure that we would have smooth sailing in all money matters.

See, I grew up with absolutely no sense of material/financial security.  We relied on food pantries, WIC, bottle collecting for enough money to buy a loaf of bread, etc., to make sure we had enough food to eat.  There were always bills piling up, we rarely had new clothes, we sometimes missed school field trips because the couple dollars it cost to go was more than we could “afford”.  Thankfully, we never went without something to eat, we always had a roof over our heads and clothes on our backs.  But nothing ever felt like a guarantee.  There was a lot of fear and there was a determination that my kids would never have any of those fears.

As I entered adult life, I’m sure I was somewhat naive.  I believed that if I was faithful in giving back to God that money would always be there when I thought it should be there.  And, at first, it kind of was.  I guess because, in actuality, my faith was probably pretty small.  God wasn’t about to give my tiny faith-for-provision muscle a huge mountain to move right off the bat.  So, I guess I figured our “agreement” was intact.

Over the years, there were “small” tests that progressively got bigger, and over-the-top examples of provision that eventually gave way to provision that was simply “enough”.  Stretches of questioning and worrying and trying to figure out where God was and what He could possibly be doing grew longer.  Resulting provision, though in many ways smaller, was nonetheless, much more explicit.  It became more obvious that God wanted us to see that it was Him, not us, that knew best.  And He wanted us to acknowledge that He really was the one providing all we needed.

Yet, somehow, when we moved to NY, I thought that “phase” of life was over.  I thought we had finally satisfied God that we were trusting Him.  But, it seems that since we’ve been here, God has been intent on helping me see just how small my faith for provision actually is…by making it seem like we are losing on every side.  We felt His leading to buy a house that cost more than we wanted to spend, and has ended up having more problems with it than we even remotely anticipated.  We bought a camper when we thought we were going to build a house…though we could have backed-out once we realized plans were changing, we kept our word to buy it, knowing we didn’t need it but hoping God would honor our integrity.  It turns out the camper had a leak…a significant leak…that will cost us more money to fix, and we will still not even be able to sell it for nearly what we paid for it.  Our income, which from all appearances should be more than sufficient, is proving less than needed to cover expenses.  And now, the company Tim is working for is shutting down for 2 weeks this summer…which means 2 weeks of no pay to add more stress to our struggle to see God’s provision.

Honestly, my faith is pretty small right now.  For the first time ever, finances have become a source of contention between Tim and me.  He has, in general, very different ideas of how to resolve financial issues than I have…and I have a really hard time just leaving the decision making to him.  I mean, he hears my opinions, but the truth is, there are just some areas where we don’t see eye to eye and I’m struggling to have faith that God is ultimately the provider and He is the one I need to trust in.

It’s not that I want to paint a bleak picture.  The truth is, we aren’t in any immediate need.  We have money in the bank and aside from our mortgage, we have no debt of any kind.  But, despite our best efforts, we are losing ground.  And unlike other times when we have faced questions of provision, we are living in a place where income opportunities run pretty slim.  There is no fall-back.  God must provide or we will be sunk in time.  I realize now that, in the past, there has always been a “safety-net” for my faith….a belief that there was enough opportunity and we had enough intelligence and skills that, somehow, we would always have enough.  Here, I don’t have that belief.  God is calling us to put all of our faith in Him…without any external logic, without any tangible guarantees.

And honestly?  I don’t like it at all.  I don’t like not knowing what’s next.  I don’t like admitting that it’s not in my hands.  I don’t like that God feels like this is the trial we need most in life right now.  But I don’t seem to get a choice in this, other than how I respond.  So, I will do my best to cling to my remembrance of God’s past provision.  I will do my best to profess God’s promises for us.  I will do my best to find some joy in looking forward to seeing just how God will take care of us.  I will do my best, though I am sure it will not be good enough sometimes.  But, then, I guess that’s probably why this trial is necessary…to make my best better, to make my faith stronger,and  to help me see that God’s good enough is always better than my best, anyway.

I don’t often take note of the good things in life.  I’ve said this before.  Most areas of my life are subject to some measure of me thinking change would be better.  And honestly, even my perception of my husband doesn’t escape this harsh idealism.  I have moments of thinking there is “better”…wanting him to change, knowing there are some qualities he will just never have.  Despite the fact that I know I am horribly flawed and deserve far, far less than the amazing man I have in my husband, I still find myself dissatisfied at times with anything less than perfection from him…which is, obviously, an impossibility.

Occasionally, though, I have a moment of clarity and really recognize: I am so blessed by my husband.  In some ways, it’s easiest for me to understand when I (for purposes of explanation) consider him as a part of myself…a leg, for instance.  There are many things I can say in critique of my legs, but I would never want to live without one.  For that matter, I would never want to live with a different one…I would be off-balance, I would look funny, my ability to perform any number of tasks would be hindered because different wouldn’t fit.  My husband fits me, in so many ways.  But I am also humbled by how he blesses me (in a way I’m sure my limbs couldn’t ever really bless me).  So, here’s a list….more for my benefit than anything else, of just some of the ways my husband holds me up and makes me more and better than I could ever be on my own, or even with a “perfect” person.

:: he lets me stop him in the middle of anything to have him hold me for a moment (or more)

:: he prepares garden beds for me

:: he tells me I’m beautiful

:: he likes vacuuming

:: he kills spiders for me

:: he dries and puts away dishes

:: he does the majority of child wrangling at church

:: he rubs my back

:: he tells me that I don’t sing terribly

:: he doesn’t cringe at my honesty

:: he makes phone calls I don’t want to make

:: he prays for me

:: he values my opinions

:: I can be me, and know that he doesn’t want me to be anything else

:: he talks to me, about everything and anything

:: he is trustworthy

:: he loves me

And I love him.

It seems like a common thing.  I see it in pictures, notice it in the way people interact, feel it in the way I don’t quite fit in.  History.  It’s normal, right?  To have people in your life that you’ve known for a long enough time that a relationship of some kind has formed, to be comfortable around someone just because you’ve been around them so much…and vice versa.

History is something I find myself lacking, though.  My early childhood years were spent moving around, switching schools…never in one place for more than a year until I was 10 years old.  Those ten years ensured that no “history” was established with anyone other than my family.  They also made it hard for me to find my way into anyone else’s world…partly because, even at 10 years old, I felt like I was intruding on someone’s already established realm of relationship, partly because I think I had already learned that it’s easier when the time comes to leave if there are no ties to sever.

So, I spent my adolescence barely forming any history with anyone.  I went to college.  I spent more time around people.  I made a few friends.  I established history with some.  These are people I can generally be myself around…but rarely have the chance to be around because of distance.  And, as it turns out, college was apparently the only opportunity I would have to form history.

The following years have been comprised of countless experiences of, again, feeling like I am intruding on someone else’s story.  It’s hard, when surrounded by people that have already written themselves into each others’ histories, to try to find a place there.  Who is going to choose to be around someone unfamiliar and awkward when they can be around someone, or many someones, who are already known by them?  The answer is really almost nobody.

It seems some people are skilled at just inserting themselves into the lives of others and making it seem like they have always been there, but I’m not one of them.  I stink at pretending.  I’m not comfortable around anyone right away…which probably means nobody is comfortable around me, either.  Which also probably means they don’t really want to spend time with me.  Which means I won’t ever know anyone enough to be comfortable around them…and so on.

I’ve been told that thinking like this is a lie from the enemy, but I think it is the reality of human nature and that I happened to fall on the wrong side of the equation.  Somehow, somewhere there is a lesson in this…an opportunity to lean more heavily on the Lord; a chance for gratitude that, at least, I have a husband who is my very best friend; a refining process that will help sift out the chaff in me…but at the end of the day, my heart still aches from being on the outside.

Do you ever feel like there’s a battle going on and you’re the only one who sees it?  If you have, and you’re like me, then you end up feeling like you’re crazy, at worst, or without recourse, at best.  There are times I feel like God is desperate to be heard, but nobody is seeking Him, much less listening to what He’s saying.  And often, this is in the midst everything “appearing” to be going well.  So, I stand bewildered among people who say God is doing great things, as my spirit is burdened with the sorrow of God’s heart breaking because He hasn’t been given His rightful place.

I know, it sounds presumptuous of me.  It sounds like I must be the one who’s off my rocker.  Why would God reveal something to my heart that nobody else is seeing?  And so I question my motives.  Could I be holding some grudge that is clouding my understanding?  Is there some sin in me that disqualifies me from hearing from the Lord?  Am I just being critical or quick to judge when I should be patient and forgiving?  Have I, somehow, become so distant from the Lord that I’ve forgotten how to discern His voice from every other?

I hesitate to answer any of those questions with absolute certainty.  I fear becoming overconfident and blinded to truth, or speaking in haste and causing offense.  But even as I pray, the burden remains.  The sorrow weighs on my heart.  It doesn’t make sense that God would speak to me, except to have me pray.  There’s nothing else I can do.  Who would listen, even if I said something?

And though, to be honest, I often feel like my prayers are a paltry effort in the overall goal of accomplishing His purposes, His Word promises that the effectual, fervent prayer of a righteous man will avail much.  I will leave it in His hands to do the rest.  Obviously, He’s the only One who can effect a change, anyway.