This year’s lesson, I think

To someone who has read anything I’ve written this year, I’m sure it’s obvious that 2014 hasn’t been my favorite.  The past several days, I’ve been trying to figure out what God has taught me in the midst of these months that have brought me to this turn in the calendar with little more than a weary determination to hold on.

So many aspects of God’s character that just a couple years ago were so real, so tangible, so certain to me now seem like distant, ethereal ideas that have no evidence in my life.  And it is gut-wrenching for me to say so.  I don’t have any idea how I have come so far.  I feel like I have fallen away, except I honestly can’t see where I went wrong.

Even in my worst moments, when I felt completely abandoned, I was trying to find a way to see God.  Even as I, at times, concluded that faith was pointless, I still clung to God’s Word as truth in the hope that I was just wrong.  I certainly have not been a shining example of peace in a storm, or of faith without sight, but I have kept trying.  Over and over and over.  Hoping that there would be a rescue, a revelation, a reward…something…that would finally help me understand why.

But there hasn’t been.

I mean, there have been moments.  Brief, fleeting glimpses of a God I had once felt was so near, so approachable.  I’ve tried to magnify those moments.  I’ve written about almost all of them and, honestly, written very little about the constant barrage of disappointment and discouragement and frustration that this year has brought.

Now I arrive at this last day of December completely spent.  Empty.  Done.  Humbled, and in some ways, humiliated.  It’s shameful to me to be here; embarrassing that I don’t know how to get back.  So what in the world am I supposed to be learning in all of this?

To believe when I can’t see. 

To make sure it’s God I’m seeking and not anything else.  

The meaning of sacrifice…in my praise, in my home, in my body, in my heart…and how terrible I am at it. 

In short, to choose God over every other desire or inclination of my heart and life.

I don’t know that I’ve been a very good student, though.

 

Torn

There’s a tug-of-war going on in my mind.  A constant wondering if doors closed and lines drawn and brick walls, and everything hard and uncertain and barren mean God’s telling us to move on, or if they mean God’s testing our mettle, wanting us to stay and fight.  We had wanted for years to move back here, because for reasons that may have partly been sound, but also partly idealistic, here is where we thought we could best serve God and best raise our children to serve Him, too.

Eventually, God worked it out so that we could come.  I say God worked it out, because the timing and circumstances of this door opening was more than we could have orchestrated.  Since coming, though?  It has been nothing short of completely disheartening on almost every level.  It has been a battle from day one, in which every dream, every hope, every idea we had of how life might look has been obliterated.  Not changed, not replaced, but just destroyed with nothing left in the void but tatters of the life we thought we could have, thought we would have.  It has been heartbreaking.

Despite all the deep disappointment, though, we have been learning and growing.  These difficult days have, in some ways, been a refining process.  There have been areas of winnowing and areas of strengthening…and lots of areas of just learning how weak and incapable we really are.  We have questioned our motives, questioned our methods, questioned our personalities, and questioned our faith over and over and over again.   We haven’t often found answers.

Now, there’s this crossroads…maybe.  In truth, there is nothing to make us stay, except perhaps for the logistical nightmare of moving and the fear of the unknown.  No ties, no connections, no responsibilities, no ministry, no anything that would suffer if we were gone.  And there’s nobody telling us they want us to stay.  Not a single person.  So, what are we supposed to think?  That coming here was just a monumental mistake, and now God is trying to make that crystal clear?  Or that, somehow, in spite of all appearances, there’s a reason to stay, to persist, to find a way?

At this point, I feel like we lose either way.

Our Day-After-Christmas Boy is Five

I’m sitting here, wondering what to write about Elijah, my littlest boy, on this fifth birthday of his.  And I find that words are failing me a bit.  Not that I don’t have things to say, I just don’t know how to put it all into words.  Elijah is unique in some of the best kinds of ways.  His natural bent is to wear his heart on his sleeve – he pours out love to those around him and he longs for others to pour out love to him. The vulnerability of his heart exposed means that hurts come easily, too, though, and so he’s started reserving his affection at times and putting up defenses rather than letting his heart be seen.

In all honesty, I worry sometimes that he will become jaded or cynical for lack of understanding that not everyone functions the way he does.  Many of our “disciplinary” conversations lately have been explanations about loving people regardless of whether they seem to love you back, in the hopes that he won’t let his predisposition to encourage and help and value others give way to only treating others the way he sees them treating him.  All that said, he does still give praise liberally, he does practically burst with joy and affection when he is treated with even a small measure of kindness in almost any scenario, he does want to always be a part of what anyone else is doing, just because he loves people.

As a five year old, there are obviously many other areas where there is room to grow, but there are strengths that are emerging and becoming more noticeable, too.  He is quick to forgive.  He is strong and capable at many tasks.  He is persistent and very determined when he wants to figure something out.  He notices details and asks insightful questions.  He remembers every name he hears and greets others exuberantly.  If Tim or I are going anywhere…shopping, errands, whatever…he always makes sure to hug us before we go, and is excited to see us the moment we return.

I have felt more loved by Elijah than by any of my other children, and have been more convicted and challenged by his affection, praise and encouragement than by any other person, ever.  I am so thankful for this boy of ours, who bears the image of his Maker in such clear and purposeful ways.  My prayer is that he will learn to let his heart stay vulnerable and to trust in the protection and worth that can be found only by abiding in Christ, and that God would pour His love through Elijah into this world desperate to see what love without condition really is.  And I hope that this day, as we celebrate his five years, he will know that he is so precious, and so loved, and such a special, irreplaceable part of our lives.

 

Nevertheless

C’mon, God, SHOW UP!!

Sometimes, I get angry at God.  Sometimes, I think He’s nowhere to be found.  Sometimes, I yell at Him at 4:30 in the morning, while the rest of the house sleeps…except the screaming baby who doesn’t want a diaper change.  Generally, very early mornings and an almost-sleepless night don’t lend themselves to self-restraint and a hopeful attitude on my part.  And life has been pretty effectively tearing down my defenses lately, too.  I’ve been trying to not let it.  I’ve been trying to not focus on circumstances.  I’ve been trying to believe that we matter to God, here in the midst of days that seem filled with reasons to doubt.  But that morning a few days ago, I was at my end.  I threw a fit and later beat myself up about it.  Why would God want to show up for someone as faithless and irreverent as I had been?  I thought, maybe He wouldn’t.

Then I read this verse from Psalm 31…

For I said in my haste,
“I am cut off from before Your eyes”;
Nevertheless You heard the voice of my supplications
When I cried out to You.

Nevertheless, God heard.  When I am faithless, He is faithful.  When I accuse and blame and forget Who I am speaking to, and of, He doesn’t hold it against me.

Someday, I’ll learn.

there are many things that could be said

claims that might seem plainly true

hopes lie in dust, and hurt rubs raw

this life, that’s being lived for You

heartache lies and steals peace

eyes deceive by fettered sight

though here there seems to be no sun

as though day, You light the blackest night.

so, I’ll proclaim that You are good

and stand upon this Rock I’ve found

when crashing waves would overthrow

still this life won’t tumble down

I’ll lift Your Name above these trials

Your banner, wave through every war

Your faithfulness will be my shield

Your Word, my trust forevermore

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Thankfulness, or an attempt anyway

from Nov. 15

Thankful…

…for my seven-year old who looked at me the other day, and said you are the greatest person ever.  I love you, Mommy.

…for my four year old who still tells me almost daily that I’m beautiful and nice and that he loves me.

…for my husband who takes the lion’s share of getting up with fussy/sick children in the middle of the night, and then still gets up early to provide for our family

…for the help my children give around the house

…for my littlest girl who still wakes up smiling many mornings.

…for the most adorable 2-year old ever.  I might be biased.

…for vegetables, and a digestive system that (I think) has finally learned to like them.

…for 20 lbs each of potatoes and carrots from our garden

…that I don’t have to put my kids on a bus every morning to take them away for long hours

…for the presence of the Lord with me, even when life is hard

…for music.  I love music.  I love singing (though some might contend that my singing does not qualify as music).  I love listening to my kids practice piano.  I love playing my clarinet.  I love hearing birds chirping.  I love listening to worship music while I do just about anything.  I love listening to other people perform almost any kind of music.

…for the sky…for blue skies and storm clouds and starry nights and dazzlingly bright sunrises and breathtakingly beautiful sunsets.

 

from November 16

thankful…

…for flannel sheets

…for the neighbor lady who prayed to receive Jesus in church this morning.  Honestly surprising, but so exciting.  I sometimes forget the amazing things God can do, and the reality that every heart is desperate for Him alone.

…warm slippers

…half a year with our littlest girl

…dressing my kids up in matching clothes.  Tim thinks it’s strange, but it is honestly fun for me, and relieving to have some guide to go by when grabbing clothes for the day.

 

from Nov. 19

Thankful…

…for the pretty snowfall this afternoon.  I’m not exactly ready for winter, but I’m glad I can at least see the beauty in it.

…for a 6 straight hours of sleep last night.  It’s been a while.

…for my kids.  They work hard and do a good job at many things.  I probably don’t tell them that enough.

…for books that direct my eyes to the Lord.  They are surprisingly few and far between, in my experience, but so helpful in getting my gaze off me.

…for my bulb syringe (nasal aspirator?) that has been extremely useful the past few days of dealing with a very congested baby girl.

…for our washer and dryer.  While I don’t love our particular washer and dryer, and often find myself unable to figure out what in the world makes people like front loaders, I am glad that we don’t have to go elsewhere to tackle our 15+ loads of laundry every week.

…for the library.  It has only been in the past year or so of homeschooling that I have made use of this resource that is literally in my backyard…I previously had some notion that I needed to purchase every book I used for school…and it has been such a stress reliever.  Even better?  Interlibrary loan and online requesting and renewal.  I almost feel like I’m cheating at something.

 

from Nov. 24

Thankful…

…for the insurance company finally agreeing to reimburse for the money we paid the midwife for prenatal care

…for peace about my mother-in-law moving here.  Still not excitement.  Still not joy.  Still not expectation for it to be free of conflict.  But peace.  I’ll take it.

…for a rearranged hallway upstairs (it’s a big hallway).  I like it much better now.

…for warm weather.

…for fresh eggs.

 

from Dec. 15

Thankful…

…for long, hot showers

…for internet recipes

…for a baby that has finally stopped wiggling and fussing and pulling my hair, and is now snuggled close, asleep

…for a two-year old that did not fight me at nap-time today

…for Tim’s interview tomorrow

…for pretty Christmas mugs

…that tomorrow is another day to try again

 

 

Where to find wisdom

The testimony of the Lord is sure, making wise the simple —Psalm 19:7b

Tim had been seeking a rate increase at his job.  Just four days before being told he would be out of a job, he had been told by his manager that a rate increase was most likely going to go through, that it was just a matter of getting through the formality of budget approvals.

A few days ago, while reviewing our budget for the next couple months, Tim discovered a typo that means that after taxes are paid at the end of January, our bank account will be $4000 less than we had anticipated.

This morning, the batteries on our vehicle died.  Even though Tim had gotten them checked just a couple weeks ago to make sure they weren’t going.  Even though he just last night cleaned the terminals to help with charging.

Despite trying to do everything right, things are going wrong.  I want to say everything is going wrong, but as Tim is quick to point out, there are many things that could be far worse.  It’s just hard to see, sometimes.

But God promises to supply all of our needs.  God says not to worry – that we are more valuable than the birds of the air that are fed by His hand though they neither sow nor store up for themselves.  He told the Israelites to give back to Him the tithe on all they have and to test Him…test Him!…and see if He would not throw open the windows of heaven and pour out an overflowing blessing.  He says to simply seek Him and His righteousness first,  and everything else will be added unto us.  God says He will make all things work for our good.

The testimony of the Lord is sure.  Certain.  Trustworthy.  Faithful.  Though I try to be wise in my understanding of circumstances, and analyze and worry and try to find some logical answer…some likely solution…it is the simplicity of trusting God’s promises that will prove wise in the end.  No matter what life might be screaming at me about our need or the seriousness of our current predicament, it is the unchanging truth of God’s Word that must always stand.  It has to.  It just does.

Reminders, again

Sometimes…most of the time…I feel so far from capable.  Even before I read the perfect posts or see the perfect photos or have the rest of the world loudly, clearly condemning me for just not being good enough, I see it.  When I strain with all I am to try to gain some kind of right perspective on these December days that are supposed to be about celebration and thankfulness and awe, and end up feeling inept because I still can’t find the good, I wonder what’s wrong with me.  When I try to explain to my children why it matters so much that God became man, and my words fall flat and they just stare at me with blank faces, I feel defeated.  When I look around our house and see messes and clutter and…unfinished-ness…even though I tried to deck the halls and create some semblance peace and beauty and warmth, I want to just give up.  When I realize that there are only three weeks left until Christmas and I have barely begun to buy gifts, there’s that voice whispering over and over and over…you’re a failure.

And you know what?  I am a failure.  We all are.  Maybe my efforts result in more obvious failure than the efforts of others, but nobody in the history of humanity has gotten it all right, except One.  I can be tempted to think that God cares that my house doesn’t look beautiful or that the laundry isn’t put away or that I might not get the perfect gift for my child.  I am, at times, even convinced that my inadequacies in Bible teaching will handicap my children in their ability to believe and follow after God.  I see my sins and my weaknesses and everything wrong with me and think God must be so disappointed.  Until He reminds me, again, of why Jesus came.  He saw all that I would be long before I was.  He knew the futility of my striving, of humanity’s striving.  And rather than being disappointed, rather than expecting some kind of vain attempt at pulling ourselves up by the bootstraps, rather than giving up on us – on me – He put Himself in the gap left by every failure, every selfishness, every squandered opportunity, because He loved, and loves, anyway.

I doubt that I will ever be able to come across as picture-perfect, despite the unfortunate reality that I will probably try time and time again.  It’s unlikely that anyone will ever look at me, at my life, and think I have everything figured out.  My kids will most certainly grow up with a front-row seat to (and, hopefully, first-hand experience of) God’s undeserved favor being poured out on a sin-stained life.  But God won’t ever be surprised by all that I am and all that I’m not.  He won’t be comparing me or condemning me.  He will be with me, right here, all-sufficient to present this life to Himself as holy, acceptable, and perfect.