There are parts of Isaiah that are over my head.  I have a hard time with some of the imagery and references and timetables.  But Isaiah 40 is pretty clear.  And every time I read it, it speaks peace to my heart.  It reminds me of who God is, and who I am, and…wow!…that I matter to Him.  I was so thankful for that reminder today.

1 Comfort, comfort my people, says your God. 2 Speak tenderly to Jerusalem, and proclaim to her that her hard service has been completed, that her sin has been paid for, that she has received from the LORD’s hand double for all her sins. 3 A voice of one calling: “In the desert prepare the way for the LORD; make straight in the wilderness a highway for our God. 4 Every valley shall be raised up, every mountain and hill made low; the rough ground shall become level, the rugged places a plain. 5 And the glory of the LORD will be revealed, and all mankind together will see it. For the mouth of the LORD has spoken.” 6 A voice says, “Cry out.” And I said, “What shall I cry?” “All men are like grass, and all their glory is like the flowers of the field. 7 The grass withers and the flowers fall, because the breath of the LORD blows on them. Surely the people are grass. 8 The grass withers and the flowers fall, but the word of our God stands forever.” 9 You who bring good tidings to Zion, go up on a high mountain. You who bring good tidings to Jerusalem, lift up your voice with a shout, lift it up, do not be afraid; say to the towns of Judah, “Here is your God!” 10 See, the Sovereign LORD comes with power, and his arm rules for him. See, his reward is with him, and his recompense accompanies him. 11 He tends his flock like a shepherd: He gathers the lambs in his arms and carries them close to his heart; he gently leads those that have young. 12 Who has measured the waters in the hollow of his hand, or with the breadth of his hand marked off the heavens? Who has held the dust of the earth in a basket, or weighed the mountains on the scales and the hills in a balance? 13 Who has understood the mind of the LORD, or instructed him as his counselor? 14 Whom did the LORD consult to enlighten him, and who taught him the right way? Who was it that taught him knowledge or showed him the path of understanding? 15 Surely the nations are like a drop in a bucket; they are regarded as dust on the scales; he weighs the islands as though they were fine dust. 16 Lebanon is not sufficient for altar fires, nor its animals enough for burnt offerings. 17 Before him all the nations are as nothing; they are regarded by him as worthless and less than nothing. 18 To whom, then, will you compare God? What image will you compare him to? 19 As for an idol, a craftsman casts it, and a goldsmith overlays it with gold and fashions silver chains for it. 20 A man too poor to present such an offering selects wood that will not rot. He looks for a skilled craftsman to set up an idol that will not topple. 21 Do you not know? Have you not heard? Has it not been told you from the beginning? Have you not understood since the earth was founded? 22 He sits enthroned above the circle of the earth, and its people are like grasshoppers. He stretches out the heavens like a canopy, and spreads them out like a tent to live in. 23 He brings princes to naught and reduces the rulers of this world to nothing. 24 No sooner are they planted, no sooner are they sown, no sooner do they take root in the ground, than he blows on them and they wither, and a whirlwind sweeps them away like chaff. 25 “To whom will you compare me? Or who is my equal?” says the Holy One. 26 Lift your eyes and look to the heavens: Who created all these? He who brings out the starry host one by one, and calls them each by name. Because of his great power and mighty strength, not one of them is missing. 27 Why do you say, O Jacob, and complain, O Israel, “My way is hidden from the LORD; my cause is disregarded by my God”? 28 Do you not know? Have you not heard? The LORD is the everlasting God, the Creator of the ends of the earth. He will not grow tired or weary, and his understanding no one can fathom. 29 He gives strength to the weary and increases the power of the weak. 30 Even youths grow tired and weary, and young men stumble and fall; 31 but those who hope in the LORD will renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles; they will run and not grow weary, they will walk and not be faint.  —Isaiah 40

I have a hard time seeing God through all the stuff I put between Him and me.  The “stuff” of sin, of hurt, of petition, of weakness, of striving.  The stuff of good intentions, of comparisons, of other voices, of unbelief.  My tendency is to seek God for something.

There is often an object of my seeking that is, in all honesty, more important to me than seeing Him.  I ask Him to change me, to heal me, to strengthen me, to use me, to free me.  I ask Him to provide, to guide, to instruct, to forgive.  I ask for joy, for peace, for patience, for understanding. The somewhat cliched seeking of the gift, rather than the Giver.

And I end up with a heart full of requests, but void of that which I most need.  Not that it’s bad to ask for things.  The Bible makes it clear that we are to ask, even audaciously, for the things we want from God.  But as with most things, it comes down to the condition of my heart.  The why of my requests.  The reason I pour out my heart.  Am I seeking God’s glory, or my comfort?  Will I see an answered request as proof of a loving and gracious Father, or as my rightful due for believing in His omnipotence?  Will I find comfort in His presence even if the rest of life is uncomfortable?  Will He…just Him…be always enough, no matter what?

I’m realizing, more and more, that He is life.  Not just first, not just best, but only.

And as simple a concept as it is, I still feel incapable of fully understanding it.

For from him and through him and to him are all things.  To him be the glory forever! Amen. —Romans 11:36

Sometimes, God tells me to let go of things I don’t want to let go of.

Sometimes, God tells me to do things I don’t want to do.

Sometimes, God tells me to trust Him and I question His trustworthiness.

Blessed is the man who trusts in the Lord, And whose hope is the Lord.  For he shall be like a tree planted by the waters, Which spreads out its roots by the river, And will not fear when heat comes; But its leaf will be green, And will not be anxious in the year of drought, Nor will cease from yielding fruit. The heart is deceitful above all things, And desperately wicked; Who can know it?      —Jeremiah 17:4-9

Before I post anything I have written, it has likely had hundreds of words deleted or changed or moved.  Sometimes the whole thing has been completely thrown out a few times before I decide it’s okay.  Most times, I never hit the “publish” button.  It’s not really because I am a perfectionist in my writing.  It’s because I have a hard time figuring out how to say what’s on my mind and heart.  Nevertheless, this is how I prefer to communicate because there’s no pressure to think quickly, or to sound intelligible the first time I try to express something.  Writing is safe.

Unfortunately for me, speaking does not come with the same luxury of being able to edit and delete, of being able to think long about what I want to say before actually saying it.  I don’t put thoughts together quickly, but most times, conversation does not come with a lot of time to sit in silence, formulating cohesive sentences.  This makes me nervous about social interaction, which only serves to slow my brain functioning and perpetuate my problem with speaking intelligibly.

I struggle with how I am supposed to manage this aspect of my nature.  It is easy for me to say it’s just who I am – and it honestly is…even when I put my best effort into conversation, I can’t make my thoughts come any faster so that I seem more engaged.

But it is also fear that ties my tongue and clouds my thoughts.

It is easy for me to think that there should be some middle ground, some leeway from others; that, somehow, people should recognize how difficult interactions can be for me, and maybe be a little bit more persistent in attempts at conversation…and, really, showing love to somebody should, in some measure, be about meeting them where they are.

But there is also a pride and selfishness that make it about me, and not about the other person…a refusal to die to self that makes me stubbornly dig in my heels and want to force “right” behavior from others when my own heart is no better.

It’s easy for me to ask God to change me – to make me eloquent, or gregarious, or able to think just a little bit faster – so that I don’t make a fool of myself when I speak…and it is okay to expect God to give me words when it will bring Him glory.

But, often, my desire to change is to bring me “glory” in some manner – that I could feel loved or accepted or esteemed – and really has no honorable intentions behind it.

More than anything, I feel like God is pounding it into my head and heart that my focus is off.  If my eyes were set on Him, I wouldn’t have fear.  I wouldn’t care how others were treating me.  It wouldn’t matter if people saw me as a blathering idiot or as an engaging conversationalist.  It’s a painful lesson, though.  I hope I learn it soon.

Life often doesn’t make sense to me.  I find myself confused and frustrated and hurt.  I want to be seen and heard and understood.  Sometimes I try to write about it. Most times I fail miserably.  The truth is, as much as I want others to know my heart, what I need is to know God’s heart.  As much as I want to be loved by others, what I need is to acknowledge that God’s love for me is enough.

Several weeks ago, as I struggled to see anything good about myself, I told God that I hate who He made me.  His rather stern and emphatic response was “I love who I made you”.

As I have gone through my days since then, those words have been resonating in my heart, mostly because of how often I question if He really does, or how He possibly could…but sometimes, too, because it seems like the person God made me isn’t good enough for others.  Sometimes it seems like “fearfully and wonderfully made” has to come in a certain form to be believed, and I don’t fit that form.  And I wonder if God didn’t mean that part of me when He gave me His response…if I need to change to fit the form.  Or did He know this is who I would be when He formed me in the womb?  And when I told Him I hate who He made me, did He know that this was one of the reasons why, yet still told me He loved my form?

I wrestle with these questions often, but especially on days when it is made clear that love from others depends on me changing.  And my soul is in turmoil, and my mind questions, and my heart breaks.  And all I hear Him say is “I love you.”

Maybe some day I will realize the sufficiency of that truth, but right now I wish it didn’t have to be enough.

Life around here looks like…

…a little boy riding his new birthday bike in circles around our downstairs all.day.long because the temperature and snow piles make doing so outside pretty much impossible for now.

…starting schoolwork again.  I think this is the first time I’ve actually been happy (relieved?) to do so.  There is definitely something to be said for the structure it provides.

…an attempt at making borscht.  I’ve never made it before.  I’ve never eaten it before.  But I had beets and cabbage, so I decided to try.  The result wasn’t bad, but I have no idea if it actually tasted like borscht.  I guess that doesn’t really matter though, right?

…doing this for our family devotions.  We are only a couple days into it, but I like it.  The writing is simple enough for kids to understand, but thought provoking, too.  Plus, it’s all about who God is, which I love.

…taking down Christmas decorations.  This is kind of early for us, but I like that it’s done.

…a baby girl often sleeping until 11 am, just waking once around 7am to nurse.  The trade-off is that she is never asleep before 10pm, often not before 11pm.  But that is hardly even noteworthy, is it?  I’m still a bit dumbfounded by how easy she is.

…starting a new routine of keeping one kid up late each night to have some one-on-one prayer time.  Our normal routine has just been praying together as a family at night, but we haven’t done a great job with giving our kids individual attention in prayer.  So far, it has been really good.

…trying to exercise more regularly.  Why is this always so hard to do?

…lots of legos.  Lots.

…attempts at teaching my big girl to knit.  I don’t really knit, so I bought a book to help.  She is the most interesting (and sometimes frustrating) combination of a really quick study and a complete ditz.  She caught on to everything right away, but can’t stay focused on it long enough to accomplish anything.  Maybe if I put her in an empty room with nothing that could possibly distract her?  I don’t know.

…a few new lights in some rooms that have been light-less for a while.  Aaah…progress.

…long conversations with my very best friend.

…worries and struggles brought, sometimes reluctantly, to the cross.

…bad moments and repentance.

…learning, more, that God is trustworthy in everything.

When I pray I don’t use big words.  When God teaches me things, they usually aren’t theologically heavy ideas.  When I read my Bible (or anything, for that matter), my understanding is generally limited to the words on the page.  And often I end up feeling like I must be missing something.  Because I hear other people praying or preaching or singing about ideas that just don’t make any sense to me.  There are metaphors and exhortations and petitions that sound lovely…but I just don’t understand what they mean.

What I do understand?  Some examples…

God is good and holy and powerful.

I am sinful and weak and selfish and lots of other one word descriptors that are easy to grasp.

I need Jesus.

God loves me.

God is bigger than any problem I could have.

God wants to be glorified.

I need to trust Him.

God’s Word is truth.

God is enough for me.

Every.single.one. of my sins were paid for on the cross.

God hears my prayers.

They are simple ideas, in a lot of ways.  Maybe others would express the same ideas with words that demonstrate a lot more thought or study or revelation.  Maybe my understanding of spiritual matters just doesn’t go very deep.  I honestly don’t know.  But, since God seems able and willing to find ways teach me in my simplicity, I will be content to let Him.

You are my breath, my life, my heartbeat

You are my strength, the rock beneath my feet

You are my hope and joy and perfect peace

You are the Giver of grace that covers me

You are the light to all my darkened paths

You are the One who holds my spirit fast

You are the Name I call out in my need

You are the voice that calms my stormy seas

You are the sacrifice that made me free

You are my vision when I cannot see

You are my healer, guide, Father and friend

And I love You, Lord.

That’s all. 

The end.

Today, Elijah is 3.

He is smart and silly and defiant and sensitive and helpful.

We have battles over meals and naps and fussing and clothes.

He struggled when Ava made her entrance into the family.

He loves to sit close and request (demand?) an “arm” (around him) and sing Jesus Loves Me.

When he gets hurt, or when he doesn’t feel good, he asks “pray it?”…and when someone else is hurt, he offers to pray for them.

He wants to be a big kid, but wants to still be the baby, too…I guess it’s the internal battle every 3 year old faces.

He loves his baby sister, telling me all the time how beautiful and adorable and precious she is, and how much he loves her.

He likes to randomly go visit his Daddy at work (aka, his office in the attic), and Daddy has a particular soft spot for this little boy.

When the big kids are at Friday school, we mostly snuggle and watch Scooby-Doo.

During our family devotions, his eager response to any question that is asked is always “Jesus came down and died on the cross”.  I’m glad he’s getting the basics figured out ;).

He often says “I love you, too, Mommy” out of the blue.

He is adored by his siblings.

He makes me laugh a lot.

There is so much tenderness and affection and zeal for life in Elijah.  And though he has occasionally corrected us lately, saying “I’m not buddy, I’m ‘wijah”, I’m not in any hurry to abandon his simple nickname that so aptly describes our favorite littlest boy.  And today we celebrated him and the joy he has been to our hearts and the life he has before him.  Happy Birthday, Buddy…we love you so, so much!

It occurred to me as I was rocking Ava this afternoon with tears streaming down my face, feeling alone and overwhelmed, that it was not an entirely unfamiliar feeling.  I remember, 3 months after Nathanael was born, having a complete meltdown because the Christmas cards I was making were not finished by the time I thought I needed them done.    If either of these instances had happened in the first few weeks postpartum, I would have immediately chalked it up to hormones…it’s happened after each birth (and miscarriage).  I sort of expect it and while it isn’t fun, at least I know why.

With Ava, I thought I somehow got out of the whole emotional mess that typically follows birth.  When my hair started coming out in handfuls a week or two ago, though, I should have realized what was coming.  My postpartum hair loss normally starts right away, too, so when it proved to have merely been delayed, rather than avoided altogether, I should have been prepared for what was to come. It seems that the baby blues have caught up with me.

So, with the realization that my tears and heartache might be just a teensy bit magnified, I determined to ignore them to the best of my ability, and set about fixing my thoughts on Jesus.  It’s certainly not the most fun, but I know it will pass and I’m thankful for a God who carries me through my weakness.