I choose You, God…

…when everything is hard and it seems like it would be easier to not try anymore

…when I can stand by who I know You to be – who your Word says You are – or I can run after acceptance that depends on me putting others above You

…when You tell me to love and forgive and it seems so unfair and makes no sense and I really just want to never let go of this hurt.

…when Your promise to work everything for my good seems to be in direct contradiction to life’s circumstances

…when I can’t figure things out and You want me to trust You anyway

I choose You, God, because…

…Your love is better than life, always

…Your ways are higher than my ways, and Your thoughts are higher than my thoughts

…this light and momentary affliction is working for me a far more exceeding and eternal weight of glory

…it is worth it to count as loss everything that I thought was gain that I might gain Christ and be found in Him

…Your steadfast love never ceases and Your mercies never come to an end – great is Your faithfulness.

…nothing can separate me from the love of Christ

…You are worthy of my praise, You are worthy of my thanksgiving, You are worthy of my obedience, You are worthy of my life.

The truth is, I don’t have many good days.

Surprising, right?

But today has been a good day so far.  I didn’t wake up to back pain, but got up at 6:30 anyway (I know, sounds late to a lot of people, but it’s early for me).  I went for a walk/run (probably more of the walk, less of the run).  I made a phone call I had been putting off, just ’cause silly things like making doctor’s appointments usually fill me with anxiety.  My heart isn’t heavy like it has been so much lately.

There’s almost…joy.

I hesitate to say that.  I hesitate to think it, even.  I don’t know why, but I think it has something to do with always wanting to keep my expectations ridiculously low so that I’m less likely to be disappointed.  Yet, even in the face of my obvious push-back to biblical truth in this area, God has poured life into my soul today.

I’m thankful.

Baseball has started. We have four kids signed up, which means 2 kids have practice each night, Monday-Thursday.  We’re only one week into it and I’m already exhausted.  It’s going to be a long two months.

Today I really wanted a burger for lunch, but I made myself a black bean and veggie burrito instead because the scale hasn’t been my friend lately.  This afternoon, though, I made orange-glazed cinnamon rolls for a snack.  That’s what my willpower looks like.

I told Tim yesterday that I feel like I’m shriveling up from the inside out – just empty, dry, hopeless.  This weight in my heart never goes away, and just seems to be heavier as time goes on…my spirit grieving more over hurt and loss and seeing no way back.

My kids’ cold-weather clothes got swapped for their warm-weather clothes this week, but I keep wondering if I missed something, because it was almost painless.  Bins even got put back where they go (usually this takes weeks or months).  I guess I underestimate how capable my kids are in helping with such endeavors.

We’re shrinking our vegetable garden this year.  Maybe that will mean we can keep up with weeding.

With the exception of giving birth, and one half-day I spent at jury duty, I haven’t been anywhere without children for more than three hours, or so, since Caedmon was born.  Sometimes I feel worn down.  But, I rarely wish I could be away from my kids for longer than a few hours.  I really don’t know the good or bad of any of it.  I’m tired, though.

May is coming.  May is hectic.  I always dread it, honestly.  But, for the first time ever, I am way ahead on my mom’s Mother’s Day gift.  Like, I’m ready to mail it.  Small, but it offers a small amount of relief.  Now, just three more Mother’s Day gifts, two anniversaries (PLUS ours), 7 or 8 (?) birthdays within our extended family.  And a new baby nephew due to be born.  And baseball.  And gardening.  And finishing up a school year.  And house projects.  And…maybe I’ll find a hole to crawl into until May is over.  It sounds more appealing.

So I should be folding laundry right now.  But I’m tired…like, legitimately tired (as opposed to most days, when I’m tired for no good reason at all).  It’s legitimate because we got a delivery of construction material delivered and dropped on our driveway and front sidewalk yesterday.

The exact numbers were:

30 sheets of 5/8″ plywood

24 sheets of 1/2″ plywood

72 2×6″ x 8′ boards

24 2×6″ x 10′ boards

63 2×8″ x 14′ boards

72 2×8″ x 8′ boards

12 2×8″ x 10′ boards

4 2×8″ x 12′ boards

26 5/8″ 4×10 sheets of drywall

All of it had to come in the house.  Tim brought all of the drywall and thicker plywood in by himself (one sheet of that drywall weighs 88 lbs(!)…not to mention how insanely awkward it is to carry a 4’x10′ sheet of anything by yourself).  He also pitched in with a few of the other boards here and there, single-handedly got all of the 10′ 2×6’s from the front hall into the attic (and with just a little help from me got the 14′ 2×8’s into the back of the second story), but the kids and I did the rest.  Okay, so I know it doesn’t seem like I did much compared to what Tim did (I think he, literally, did a ton more work than me, at least)…but a solid three hours of fairly heavy lifting was much more of a workout than I have been used to lately, so now I’m sitting.

To be honest, I really enjoyed the work.  I like to say that I was built to be a pack-mule, and yesterday just confirmed that.  ‘Cause I really can’t stand exercise that doesn’t have a point.  I get bored super-easily.  But yesterday…even though I was exhausted early on…I was able to push myself because it was accomplishing something.

Plus, I think the truth is that I was made for heavy-lifting.  I bemoan my size a lot (much to my husband’s annoyance).  I get frustrated that even if I were in great shape, it’s not possible for me to be smaller than a size 10 .  I get mad at God for not making me small and feminine and graceful (sounds petty, but it’s completely true).  But if I were all those things that I often wish I could be, I wouldn’t be as much the helper that my husband needs and values.  I know that my husband was thankful yesterday that he didn’t have to move all of that wood by himself.  I know that he was thankful that he didn’t have to worry about me being too fragile.  I know that he was thankful that I could lift the 40 lb boards from the first floor up to him in the second floor, fifty times over.  My husband is glad that I’m “sturdy” even if it means I’m not what the world considers feminine.

And this is a line of reasoning that plays out in a dozen different ways most days.  Who I am is not who I want to be, because who I am is not who someone else says I should be, but who I am is who God made me to be and there is a reason for me being the way I am.  It happens with homeschooling my kids.  It happens with keeping my home.  It happens with the food I make and the furniture I buy and the way I communicate and the fact that I don’t walk around with a smile on my face all day.

The world and the Church and articles I read and people I talk to can all have very definitive ideas of what is right and wrong in so many areas.  And I am susceptible to believing it all.  I really am.  I want a standard.  I think everybody wants a standard.  But we enter damaging territory when establish any absolute standard that is something other than what we find in the Word of God.  We were created to be different in so many ways, and we were created to be absolute in relatively few.  It’s not a new lesson for me, but it’s one that is constantly under attack, so I need reminders. 

I can be who He made me and trust that He can use it for His glory.

As hard as it is to walk out, there is freedom and a simplicity in that truth.

It’s not where I want to be.

And, honestly, I still think it’s not where we’re meant to stay.

But this is how I am seeing God’s provision these days.

In unknown songs that make it harder to enter in at first, but don’t carry with them any painful familiarity…anointed worship that helps me remember to just focus on Jesus.  In a crowd of mostly new faces, where I can be okay – for now – just being anonymous.  In so many things different that awaken long-lost conviction and raise challenges to sometimes dust-covered ideals.   In preaching that stirs passion for the Lord, and passion for His Church, and passion for the lost.

In many ways, it hurts to think of calling this home. 

But I know God is here.  And anywhere He is, I can be home.

Sometimes I have days…

…when I’m burdened all day to pray for things I can’t change and wish I could ignore.

…when I actually get more than 10000 steps on my Fitbit.

…when the bacon-wrapped pork loin for dinner is so yummy and I’m reminded why these pounds don’t come off.

…when my second-smallest girl tells me at least a dozen times that her nose hurts, and I can’t get her to drink much of anything, and I feel so bad that I can’t make this rotten cold leave her alone.

…when my heart aches so much that I can’t stop doing, just because I need to have distraction to keep from falling apart.

…when I try to catch up on correcting schoolwork and wonder, again, if I’m completely messing up at this homeschooling thing.

…when I realize that my milk supply has finally stopped and I am officially neither nursing nor pregnant for the first time in almost 13 years.

…when the whole day happens to the soundtrack of worship music mingled with demolition.

…when I notice that someone has turned the page on the calendar for me, and it’s April, and for maybe the first time ever, I wish Spring hadn’t come so quickly.

Honestly?  I want to write not-nice things about not-nice people right now.  But….since I think it’s safe to conclude that is not the leading of the Holy Spirit, I will refrain.  Instead, the response I got from the Lord when I fell to me knees, sobbing and hopeless, this afternoon.

Psalm 27

The Lord is my light and my salvation;
Whom shall I fear?
The Lord is the strength of my life;
Of whom shall I be afraid?
² When the wicked came against me
To eat up my flesh,
My enemies and foes,
They stumbled and fell.
³ Though an army may encamp against me,
My heart shall not fear;
Though war may rise against me,
In this I will be confident.

It seems like life just gets harder with each year that passes.  I honestly feel like I’ve aged ten years this past year.  I woke up this morning feeling like I’d been hit by a truck, and unfortunately this isn’t unusual.  I injured an elbow and a shoulder last year, on the same arm, and both still cause me pain almost daily.  My gray hairs and forehead wrinkles have multiplied exponentially.  My metabolism seems to have slowed to a frustrating rate and exercising gives me headaches.  Even on the rare occasion I don’t have a child waking me up multiple times a night, I don’t sleep well because my back and arms ache.  My brain is in a fog, my body hurts and my heart hurts.  It makes me not so very excited to celebrate another year of life.

But I know there are good things.

I have a husband who loves me and serves me and protects me and prays for me and tells me I’m beautiful.

I have children who are smart and healthy and affectionate…who love me even when I don’t deserve it.

I have a God who sees all that I am and loves me with a zeal that I can’t wrap my head around.

And as much as I wish other things were different, the truth is that I have the best of the most important things and I am thankful for that.

Our plan today was to go to Watertown to do some special things for Bethany on her birthday.  This morning though – almost immediately upon waking up – Isabelle started throwing up.  In less than two hours she had thrown up four or five times.  She hadn’t eaten much for lunch or dinner yesterday, so we had thought maybe she needed some food in her stomach.  But she couldn’t keep down crackers, juice or toast…and she showed very little interest in any of it anyway.  Eventually, Tim and I were pretty resigned to having to change our plans for the day.  And when Bethany asked if we were still going to Watertown, we said no.

After a brief pause, Caedmon said simply She’s not going to throw up anymore.

I replied with something like She’s not, huh?

And his response was No.  We’re going to go to Watertown, she’s going to nap in the car and she’s not going to throw up anymore.  

Bethany asked How do you know that?

Because God is going to heal her.

He said it without an ounce of doubt, without a bit of hesitation.

And within a few minutes, she had eaten a plate of scrambled eggs in seconds flat and was asking for more.

We went to Watertown.  She napped on the ride there and the ride home.  There wasn’t a single moment when she seemed at all sick, which – given her susceptibility to car sickness – would have been almost unheard of anyway, and certainly seemed out of the question when she’d spent the morning throwing up.

It was convicting and challenging and faith-building all at once.  And joy to our hearts to see Caedmon’s confidence in God’s goodness and sovereignty.  I’m so thankful that God honored his faith today.  I’m so thankful that Caedmon got to witness God’s response to his faith.  I’m so thankful for the reminder that faith requires going beyond what we can see and trusting that when we “step out of the boat” he will show His limitless power.

We serve a good God.

Today, we celebrate Bethany.  She has kept us on our toes for all of her ten years.  Just when I think we’ve figured her out, she surprises us.  She can struggle with writing a complete sentence, but can explain to me exactly what a direct object is.  She can be totally oblivious to something right under her nose, but can observe the small details of any number of mechanical devices and figure out how they’re working together.  She is our only child who unfailingly remembers to strip the sheets off her bed on Tuesdays to be washed, but almost daily forgets that she’s supposed to collect eggs in the morning.  We are regularly taken by surprise at her deep understanding of some things, but are just as often stunned at how some things completely escape her notice.

There seems to be very little middle ground with Bethany.  When she gets something, she gets it.  When she wants to do something right, she does it exceptionally.  Conversely, when she stumbles, she does so in big ways.  When she gives up on something, it takes an inordinate amount of persuasion to convince her to try again.  When she’s caught in a sin, she is either immediately repentant, or stands by what she’s done even when she’s faced with grave consequences.  She makes up her mind and that’s it.  Sometimes it’s good, sometimes it’s not, but for all that can be problematic about it, her determination to stand by her convictions no matter the cost is admirable.

She is proving to be patient and loving and gentle with her younger sisters.  She is affectionate and optimistic and joyful almost all of the time.  She loves sewing and drawing and pretty much any craft project she can find.  She’s not afraid to try new things.  She’s quick to offer encouragement and praise.  She genuinely loves Jesus.

She is a gift and a challenge and more loved than I can put into words, this oldest girl of mine.  I am so thankful for her.