Today, my first ever baby turns 9.  I guess it’s the normal thing to say that the time has flown by, but really, 9 years does feel about right.  What takes me aback though, is that he is halfway to “adulthood” – halfway to independence, halfway to [possibly] not being safely tucked into his bed just down the hall from me every night.  I know there’s the potential for an extra year or two of him being “home”, but the eventuality can’t be ignored – he’s going to be a man, and these days, these years – whether they seem to drag on or fly by – matter to what kind of man he will be.

I look at him now and see glimmers of responsibility, ambition, thoughtfulness, choosing right when wrong is easier, learning to pursue God for himself and desiring for God to work in others…but I also am so aware of the fragility of the years to come, the desperate need for the Holy Spirit to direct and convict, empower and protect.

Caedmon is a thinker, he weighs and evaluates and doesn’t like to accept “because I said so” as a reason for anything.  There is tension as he walks that line between little boy and young man…he likes to play, but at the same time, he wants to distance himself from some of the childish ways he sees in his younger siblings.  He likes to be able to figure things out for himself, but he’s learning that not everything is as black and white as his way of thinking might prefer. The Lord is working in his heart, though I often am left to wonder at the specifics.  He has taken to keeping his deeper thoughts to himself, and I find myself hoping and praying and encouraging him that he can share his heart with us.

To say that I never worry that we are somehow failing him would be, well, a lie.  But he has claimed Jesus as his savior.  We trust that God hears our prayers for him, even in the midst of our failings.  And the more I learn about who Caedmon is, the more blessed I am to have him for a son and the more I look forward – albeit with a lump in my throat and tears in my eyes – to watching him grow into a man.  We love you Caedmon.  Happy Birthday.

I’ve heard often enough that sheep are not the smartest animals.  I assume it’s true.  In the past I have bristled at the thought of being compared to a sheep for that reason.  But lately?  I feel like a sheep.  I look at many of my attitudes and actions and realize they are just absolutely ridiculous, but at the same time feel completely helpless to change.  I feel stupid, both for how I am and for not knowing how to fix myself.

More and more I note the tug of the proverbial shepherd’s hook, dragging me in a different direction than I am wont to go.  I imagine sheep don’t have a naturally acquiescent response to such an action.  I don’t either.  I would rather have a reason carefully explained to me and then have a choice.  There are times when God does that, and it works to make me change my course.  The reality, though, is that there are sometimes reasons that I just won’t understand…or that I won’t agree with even if I do understand.

So, I get prodded, and tugged, and sometimes carried in a direction I would not choose for myself.  In those moments, I am forced to remind myself of the fact that I cannot fathom His understanding…and that He is a good shepherd.  He takes care of me when I don’t know enough to take care of myself.  Even if there is some discomfort, it is for my good – to rescue me from unknown danger or to lead me to a better place.

I just need to trust.

Earlier this week, when I said, “Ugh.  I’m fat.” (what can I say…it happens) Caedmon immediately, and very matter-of-fact-ly said, “No, you’re not.”  It somehow means so much to me that he’s okay with me the way I am.  And during our prayer time with him, when asked what he’d like us to pray for, he said “That I would be hungry for God and not sweets.”  We smiled a bit at that, so he said, “No, I’m serious” – and he was.  I’m so thankful that God is working in his life.

Ava has decided to give up on the sleeping through the night thing for now.  And she still expects to be held for much of the day.  But she does have a lot of moments of having the very best disposition ever.  Plus, sometimes, I like the excuse of having to sit and hold my sweet baby girl.

Bethany loves to help in the kitchen, and asks a bazillion questions.  I love seeing her enthusiasm.  She also continues to blow us away with her ability to understand how things work.  Honestly, there are things she could probably figure out more quickly than I could.  I adore the unique little girl that she is.

Nathanael loves math.  Even when he’s had a hard time with something, he’s always eager to do more the next day.  Sometimes he does extra because he’s so excited to know how to do something.  So, so precious.  I can’t say enough how much I love this boy.

Elijah is incredibly sensitive.  He notices if I’ve been crying even a little bit, and asks me why.  And he thinks about things, and asks questions, then thinks some more.  He reminds me a lot of Nathanael in this, except he voices his thoughts more.  I like that I don’t have to try to figure out what he’s thinking or feeling.  I hope he will always talk to me about everything.

I am blessed by my kids.

Someone recently asked me what my hobbies are.  I think I gave a blank stare.  Then I said I like to write.  I couldn’t think of anything else.  Is that strange?  To not know, right off the top of my head, what things I enjoy doing?  It sort of through me for a loop that I was thrown for a loop.

I started thinking about it, and it is true that there aren’t a lot of specific things that I like to do “for fun”.  Oddly, though, when thinking about what I most enjoy doing, one-on-one conversations is what came to mind first.  I love to learn by talking to people – asking questions, challenging and being challenged, laughing, and being known enough to be laughed at – which is probably why most of what Tim and I do together is talk.

But I don’t know that conversing counts as a hobby.  So, after thinking for a while longer, I realized there are things I like to do…things like drawing and cooking and playing the clarinet and singing…they just don’t come to mind right away because, somehow, I feel like I should be good at the things I say I like to do.  If I hear that someone likes to paint, I assume they have some talent.  I worry someone would assume that I have talent – or that I think I have talent – if I said I like to do something.  I’m probably more likely to say that I “try” doing things, and to go out of my way to make sure that someone knows that I’m not any good at those things, than I am to say that I do any of those things as a hobby.

The other thing I realized is that there are things that might be considered “hobbies” that I do a lot of that I don’t necessarily enjoy, but do because I like the end result.  Gardening, or baking, or preserving food, for instance.  Not really my favorite things in the world to actually do, but I love what is produced, so I do them.  Does that mean they’re hobbies?  I wouldn’t consider them such, but maybe that’s just me.

Ugh.  Sometimes I wish my brain would just function normally.

You lifted my eyes again

when my sight was as good as blind

You whispered peace to my heart again

for what seemed the thousandth time

You heard my doubting words again

yet still You answered them once more

You held my restless heart again

and promised to never, ever let go

You pointed out my pride again

but, in that same breath, spoke favor, too

You reminded me of all I need again

and helped me see it’s only You

Thank You for Your faithfulness

Lord, my everything

Never failing, ever patient

Reason for my being

Hope of my heart, strength of my life

all-sufficient One

May all that I am be found in You

Lord, let me be undone.

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.