Very Long Weeks

You know, I try not to be super busy. I swear I do. But gosh, talk about falling majorly short of a goal! 

This month has been insane. May will be even crazier. And, before I even get to May, the ton of bricks just hit me that there's 30 days in April, not 31 - which means I HAVE to get all of my month-end articles in TOMORROW, because Thursday is Charlotte day, and it refills her love tank so significantly....I can't blow that off due to my own procrastination.

There's so much on my plate right now: 

- work 

- general ministry obligations 

- our black tie gala fundraiser sunday 

- Sam's school carnival Sat

- Sam's school field trip Friday 

- Sam's Awana Grand Prix 

- Sam deciding he urgently needs to learn to play ukulele  

- Sam's baseball games (geez, Sam!) 

- Charlotte's preschool performance 

- Charlotte's gymnastics 

- swimming lessons for both kids

- RS summer camp prep 

- church 

- marriage 

- my new DBT group - which I LOVE but it's another 2-4 hours out of the week

- friends 

- family 

- chores/errands 

- sleep? 

Today, God slowed me down. Not physically, as today was insane with a capital I.

But this He did remind me: 

His strength is made perfect in my weakness, and I consider it an honor to be complete weakened mush before Him. I've got nothing left - I do very well for significant stretches of time operating from my own power, but then it all breaks down. 

God doesn't expect me to be perfect. In fact, my pursuit of perfection seems to almost discredit what He did on the cross. 

Thank you, Daddy. Thank you for cutting down my strength and ability so You can shine. 

My house isn't spotless this week. 

I have had to cancel some meetings. 

The gym has not happened. 

I keep forgetting to pay for Sam's field trip. 

But you know....

I haven't yelled at my kids. 

I feel healthier mentally and emotionally. 

I am hearing God regularly. 

The more I seem to let go of becoming perfect overnight, the more perfectly I see and grasp God's love. 

The dirty bathroom can wait. 

This is life. 

No Matter How I Feel

On some Tuesday mornings, Charlotte and I hang out at the Jennings house while Sam is at school. Charlotte and their younger daughter have known each other since they were babies, and the fact these two girls were born within a few weeks of each other was the starting point to what eventually led us to our wonderful church.  

Yesterday the girls, as usual, immediately changed into princess dress ups, but then suddenly were in swimsuits. It was 57 degrees outside, quite windy, and they managed to find swimsuits, turn on the garden hose, fill up the inflatable pool and go for a chilly swim. 

We told them it was cold, but they insisted it wasn't. Do you remember when you were little and even if your lips had turned blue and your fingers were prunes, you didn't want to get out of the water? 

They persisted as long as they could. Eventually they were overtaken by the elements. 

Granted, as their mothers, we didn't put up much of a fight - it was one of those days that it felt best to let them learn their own lesson. It didn't matter what made sense logistically....those girls wanted to go swimming. And, shivering and soaked an hour later, they seemed happy they had. 

There was an important lesson to be learned from our girls yesterday. Even when things don't make sense, it's perhaps a noble thing to persist toward what you feel is right. It may be cold, risky and uncomfortable, but isn't there a bit of validity to be found within the stupidity of doing what you feel is right? 

I am working on applying that to my own life right now. 

I rarely feel like getting out of bed. But no matter how I feel, I know I need to live out each day better than I believe I'm able. 

There is a situation at a place I love that has really left my heart hurting, but I know no matter how I feel, I need to continue to be faithful, even though I could easily cut and run. 

Running a non profit ministry is hard work. There's never enough money, never enough volunteers, always people who don't "get it." There's a continual temptation to quit. But I know what God has called me to and the closer I stick by him, the easier it all becomes. 

No matter how I feel, I need to go with what I know and believe to be true. No matter what is the most comfortable or the most "fair" in a situation, I desire to be one in the less popular group of folks that sticks it out, stays the course and ultimately trusts God to tell me when it's time to quit. 

So far, admittedly sometimes to my disgust, He has kept me going. 

Blessed are the weary.......

Gold Trumps Diamonds

Sam is currently down two teeth and it's pretty cute. 

His attitude regarding the tooth fairy, however, was not. 

First of all, we do not do the imaginary gift giving league with our kids - there is no Santa, Easter Bunny or Tooth Fairy on this homestead. Go ahead and judge me - believe me, no one could possibly be more perturbed and disappointed in this parenting decision than my mother, so no worries. 

We have plenty of magic around here, our holiday traditions are special and our kids greatly look forward to them - but when Sam puts teeth under his pillow, he knows it's us making the monetary contribution toward the cause. 

"I get $5 per tooth. That's $10." 

"No, you don't. Try more like a dollar per tooth ." 

"A dollar?!" 

We planned to get him the now quite hard to find gold dollar coins that shine like pirate's treasure and would thrill him. 

Unfortunately his expectations almost ruined it. 

"There better be $10 under here!" he exclaimed as he reached under his pillow.

He saw the two gold dollars and was thrilled - had no idea they existed and thought they were so neat - and yet there was a touch of remorse mixed in with the joy as he realized what he had said and that it had made me also a bit sad that he wanted what he thought was best rather than what special surprise we had in store. 

If I've said it once I've said it a thousand times....my children continually teach me about God. 

How stubborn and selfish I can be, demanding things of God. I try very hard to never treat God as a genie existing only to grant my wishes, but I definitely place expectations on Him.

God will heal me because it will stop the pain. 

God will restore that relationship because then I will feel so much better. 

God will provide all of my wants because i perceive them as needs and God wants me to be happy. 

The past couple of sermons I've heard have been about the Israelites wandering through the desert, and how they grumbled and focused on what they wanted so much, they lost perspective. And with it, they almost lost out on experiencing God's purest blessings. He took them to the absolute end of their rope before He showed the center of his goodness.

Why? 

Why would he let them wait three days for water, and 40 years for deliverence? 

Why would Peter leap out of the boat in a storm while the rest stayed behind? 

Why would the bleeding woman touch Jesus after all other resources had been used up? 

Why would a paralyzed man agree to come crashing through someone's roof in order to lay before Jesus? 

Story after story there's an example of people reaching the end of their rope....and then the miracle happens. 

It's our fault, you know. We think we have a better idea of what should happen. We do what we think we should before even bringing it to God. We tend to convince ourselves we can never serve Him or follow Him fully until things are "just right" from our perspective. 

There's a cliche metaphor Christians always use...about how diamonds must go through intense heat and pressure before they start to shine. Or, if you prefer, there's the version of a stone becoming smooth and polished only after the rushing wster runs over it. 

These analogies are true...but sometimes the waves are just going to come. Sometimes that heat and pressure isn't going to produce a diamond if it's because we are going against God's will. 

God can make anything beautiful - but why do we...no, I.....have such a hard time seeking out that beauty - instead trusting a process and outcome we expect and place on God. 

God can make us into diamonds, sure. But man can make diamonds, too, through job promotions, diets and wardrobe upgrades. 

I want gold. 

Gold is found deep in the earth and cannot be authentically replicated by people. And that's what i want - to be so deep in the center of God's will that my beauty and shine is pure and real. In other words, my hands aren't on it. I have no impact on the outcome - I can do the work, but through that I agree to follow him to the depths so I can experience that rare and beautiful faith that comes from one source alone. 

Sure, I can be a diamond and have a great testimony. 

But I want to be gold - created and preserved by God  and God alone. 

Make Things Beautiful

Today was a rough, hideous day that I won't get into. I struggle, and sometimes I struggle hard. Depression & anxiety are complete menaces. I can be up and then down with no warning or reason. It sucks. I love that quote - "Everyone's playing the same game, we're all just on different levels" - and I was on a very difficult one today. 

Despite my wandering mind, my emotional suckiness and stellar array of poor choices, I will go to sleep choosing to look at the beautiful from today. 

Sam got a new toothless smile, courtesy of some laughing gas and a rockstar dentist. 

Charlotte found her bliss at Artbeast. 

We had lunch at the kids' favorite restaurant and napped during a spectacular thunderstorm. 

And as night falls, I remember that despite my struggles, despite my ugly....God is not mad at me. God can still use me. 

He's given me the chance to remember the beautiful, even on days like today when it's very, very difficult and feels like a lie. 

Like the flashes of lightning and thunder that shook our house this afternoon, Gods power is huge.  

That Saturday They Lived

There is a lot of church tradition centering upon Maundy Thursday, Good Friday and Easter Sunday. 

But what about that Saturday?

While I'm aware some churches do uphold the tradition of Holy Saturday, I often wonder if there's anything we could ever truly do as a body of believers to capture the essence of what that Saturday must have been like. 

When you go through a hard workout, you always feel pain worst the next morning. 

Can you imagine the raw, sore conditions of their hearts the morning after? Mary has had some hours to process how she has witnessed the brutal death of her son. Her little boy. Her baby. It doesn't matter if the baby daddy is God - that was her little child. It doesn't matter if she understood what was to come - try to fathom the physical horrors her eyes took in on Friday, and then tell her to go on and live through Saturday. 

Mary Magdalene or Peter - what they saw their friend go though. And for what? They did not yet understand that part.  Go ahead and tell them to eat, rest and recover. How could someone heal from watching a ceremonious murder of your best friend? 

Disappointment, hurt and loss are always worse the morning after. When the dust settles. When you take stock of what is left and realize that such a giant piece of your heart is missing, it all but physically

Oh, the tremendous emotions they all must have been experiencing that Saturday. 

Perhaps you lived through a dark Saturday today. Maybe your life feels as if it is just one huge, long Saturday of pain, dead, doubt and loss .

Next time you're stuck in your Saturday, look toward your Sunday. Remember, He is risen. 

So put on that brave face and arise. 

The Good Goes Beyond Friday

On Wednesday, our church had a special night where you could just come and pray, sing and empty your heart. 

I didn't want to go, because I was going through another relapse and I knew that I wouldn't be able to hear God anyhow, so what was the point? It would just be frustrating and disappointing.

Do I get an A for attitude (and sarcasm) or what? 

But Frank was doing sound and I hadn't seen him all day so I went. 

The evening started out just as I expected. Gorgeous music, a perfectly arranged church with creative stations....and me with my mental block, my head swimming with ungodly thoughts and really, just straight up dangerous and destructive ones. 

How did I get this way? Seemingly overnight going from doing great for quite awhile, to suddenly being half a step ahead of potential hospitalization? It had been a rough week. 

So I started to write. It's what I do when I can't pray or think clearly - I write out my thoughts and prayers. What came out of me was basically a middle school poem. Seriously. Apparently in the throes of depression, I turn into Dr Suess. 

Faith from a cage is no faith at all,

There's no room to grow, the confines too small. 

A mind trapped,

Hope snapped.

Wounds bleed,

Silent need. 

There seems to be no place to go,

Jesus loves me....this I know? 

People help, then people leave,

I try to trust but then I grieve.

I hear them say, "It's not that bad,"

"Don't listen to her, she's just sad."

But the blood runs hot,

The pain digs deep, 

You have no idea of the 

Secrets I keep. 

(And then my personal diss) 

Poems that rhyme are childish and dumb,

But it's all that comes out when I feel this numb. 

So after THAT masterpiece, I took communion and prayed - no, BEGGED - God for the chance to be healed once and for all. 

He said no. Of course not audibly, but over the past couple of years I've definitely come to know the "God voice" within my spirit. I am learning to hear it more and more, and quite honestly, I know it's God (or else my mother) - because I rarely agree with what it says. 

I roamed to the different stations around the room, trying to find a pocket of peace  to crawl into. I went back to my seat and tried to pray again. I hate these times of brain breakdown. I rarely literally hate things - but these I truly do hate. 

I picked up my paper to write another Nobel Peace Prize-worthy poem, when someone led me to the altar to pray. 

I almost stopped her, because really now, what was the point? God always says no. I have a Big Three on my prayer list that never changes. In the past hour I had gone from fight mode to quit mode. 

Our pastor had just given a little talk about being stubborn - about how it's rarely a good thing, but that seeking God and making vows to Him was the one time it was. Even though I can't remember now all of what he said, I remember powerfully how it weirdly felt as if he were speaking directly to me. Every single word made absolute sense. 

If nothing else, I am stubborn. Horrifically so. I could definitely keep on doing that. 

But for what? What vow could I possibly make to a God that I can't hear most of the time? 

As we prayed, I broke. I started sobbing the second I kneeled down and couldn't stop. Intense pain was surging through my mind, and my feelings on every junky thing that I've experienced came pouring out of me. 

I wonder how many people have snot stained the cushions up there since the 1960s? How many times God met with them? My guess is that altar's has a 100% success rate. Not with life going the way it's desired after walking away, but that God meets us there. He will meet us anywhere. 

I just had to be on my knees. 

My entire life I've held onto my fighting spirit. I am stubborn and terribly mean if I want to be. Kill or be killed has always been my subconscious emotional mantra. 

But Wednesday night, at a time I didn't want to be there, I experienced true surrender. 

I couldn't stop crying. I could hardly breathe sometimes, too. So much junk and poison came pouring out of me and wouldn't stop once I surrendered. I have no idea what was prayed over me, but I know what was happening within me. 

Once and for all, that altar was safe. 

Truly, I realized I can trust and abandonment is often a powerful threat that my darkness uses against me....but rarely a reality. 

Genuinely, I don't want to know people anymore who have hurt me in seemingly irreversible ways. I don't even want to "know" them in my thoughts - I just want God. More and more and more of Jesus. 

The past is dead. I can't fix it. The future is now, and that's where God stands waiting for me. 

God still said no to my ultimate prayer. I don't think Elizabeth prayed for complete healing from depression and compulsions and BPD, either. Some things are for life, and there's a reason for it. 

I made my vow to God Wednesday night. I've been wondering since the new year what it should be. 

I vowed to be kind and to show others His amazing, powerful, unchanging love in the simplest ways. I am incapable of grand things. I cannot even be trusted with a hot glue gun without some serious creative consequences. 

But I can love. I can speak. I can give. I can pray. God loves the simple. 

I cried and prayed at the altar alone for a good while after, and when I finally went back, I wrote down what that "God voice" was saying. 

I love it when you lean into me.

I love it when you call me Daddy.

I love it when you try to listen.

I love it when you thank me.

I love your broken heart.

I love your desire to do the right thing.

I love to hear about your day.

I love when you love.

I love when you trust me!

I love your tears.

I love that you're mine. 

Today is Good Friday. But everyday is good, because everyday God's love and mercy is new and available. How stunning it is that His love comes through the cross, but also extends beyond it - it's limitless, irreplaceable and ours.