Walking through the Desert

Psalm 61:2, I cry to you for help "when my heart is overwhelmed. Lead me to the rock that is higher than I" (KJV).

Psalm 13 How long, O Lord? Will you forget me forever?

    How long will you hide your face from me?
2 How long must I take counsel in my soul
    and have sorrow in my heart all the day?
How long shall my enemy be exalted over me?

3 Consider and answer me, O Lord my God;
    light up my eyes, lest I sleep the sleep of death,
4 lest my enemy say, “I have prevailed over him,”
    lest my foes rejoice because I am shaken.

5 But I have trusted in your steadfast love;
    my heart shall rejoice in your salvation.
6 I will sing to the Lord,
    because he has dealt bountifully with m

Empty. 

Open the cabinet doors and the cupboard is depleted. I'm down to a bag of dry beans and a dusty can of pickled beets. And someone just asked me to make a gourmet meal for a dozen people, using only what's available. How's that going to happen?

For years I've been told, God is your source. Don't look to anyone else to meet your spiritual or emotional needs. He is the one that fills you when you are depleted. What wasn't as clear was how a person actually tapped into the resources of God. The analogies abound (a cord to an electric outlet, gas to a car, sun to a plant, etc.), but what does that process of connecting look like? I'm reading, I'm praying, I'm here. So, now what? Is the extension cord too short?

Lately, when I've come to God, desperate for renewal, I've pleaded and begged, "Will you fill me? I'm so depleted right now." I'm seeking Him, so where is this abundant feasting and flowing river? (Psalm 36). Feels more like a few drops in the sand. Doesn't do much to quench my thirst and it's far from taking me to a place where I'm overflowing and able to love others well. 

My love is dried up. And I know apart from Him, I don't have much to give. (I John 4 is disturbing at best). I work and try and try some more, but my efforts leave me bitter, frustrated and depressed. It's coming out of me, not Him.

It's the vicious cycle of clenching and unclenching my hands. Am I willing to say, "Here I am" or am I more into protective mode? Lately, the questions and pain have left little energies for anything or anyone else. My heart is hurting and full of guilt. Where do I go now, Lord? What do I do with this junk? How do I repair this?

I'd love to say that all is regenerating and in bloom, but I'm still walking through some desert fringes. Even so, I'm more at peace with the discomfort. Answers are on the horizon and God hasn't left me alone (despite what I may feel at times). 

When you find yourself in the barren lands, what do you do? How does the Father coax you back to the water? What restores your connection to Him and others?

A Weekend Exhale

After this week, we need to share a little more love, peaceful perspective, blessed hope, and some escape to just exhale and remember, God's got this.

Come and saunter through Stefan's work and exhale.

Over 16 million people served in the U.S. military during WWII. I'm thankful to all the troops who continually forfeit their lives to secure the safety of others. But, since both of my grandpas--now in Heaven--served during WWII, I'm a little partial to veterans from that war. What incredible feats they overcame. They truly were the greatest generation. 

To the brave men and women, I thank you.

Watch  a story that will move you to love and cherish those around you. Everyone needs someone to say, "You are valuable to me." 

Yes, you do matter. You are more than a piece of luggage.

"Expressing gratitude will give you positive emotions, but the purpose of writing the notes is because it’s the right thing to do. John says our natural tendency is to notice the 9 bad things that happened to us each day, but instead what if we focused on the one good thing?"

Take the time to write a thank-you note. Journal a gratitude list. Be intentional about saying thanks.

Slow Down and Realize

We took a recent trip to St.Louis and stayed in a hotel for a couple of nights, which seems to be the most exciting part for our kids. Though Aaron and I groan over the cramped quarters, shared toilet and lack of privacy, the kids see the co-sleeping as a great adventure. In addition, they love watching their favorite shows on a large flat-screen TV--another item we don't have at home. 

Our three-year-old was glued to a PBS program when a commercial popped up. He immediately turned to me and said, "I don't like this show. Can you change it?" Because we don't own a TV and they've only ever watched Netflix or dvds, our kids couldn't grasp the concept of watching something you can't control. Corbin also didn't understand why his movie wasn't still on after we had come back from breakfast. The media was supposed to revolve around him.

Whether we jump on the carousel or not, our world is spinning fast, whirling with or without us. We have the option to put down the phone, pause the movie, TiVo our entertainment, stream our music, but it wouldn't surprise me if teleportation is mounting the horizon. Takes too long to get there? No problem; "Beam me up, Scotty." 

The last week or two I've been trying to create some more professional online space for myself. I've been blogging on blogspot for years and love it, but if I want to be noticed in a high-pitched world, I need to have a site unique and personal. 

The technical glitches and jargon tempted me to throw my computer out the backdoor and say, "Forget it! Give me a pen and notepad." I don't care about this junk anyway; I just want to create. 

What happened to the days when an author wasn't considered exceptional unless he or she was a recluse? Readers expected them to avoid the public eye; the mystery made them more intriguing and their work more desirable. Today you aren't even considered for publication unless you have thousands following you on social networking sites. Writers can spend more than half of their time just marketing (ahem, excuse me: tribe-building and branding). Authors no longer have time to do what they do best--write!

Anyway, the stress of it all wrapped me up in this restless angst; I growled at the kids, I neglected the house, and barely got dinner together. 

At one point during the chaos, my mom encouraged me to calm down, "You are letting all this stuff eat your lunch. You have no deadline; only self-imposed expectations." In other words, quit taking yourself so seriously; get some help. Relax. You aren't as important as you think you are...and neither is this list.

Last night, I was reading Yancey's book Prayer and I stumbled onto this little jewel: 

"When I sense that my activity means something and has worth, and so move faster and faster trying to accomplish more and more, at that moment I give in to pride and a feeling that all depends on me." (300)

What more can I say? I still have pages of work to complete, but I am trying to remember that at the end of the day, it doesn't matter how much I conquer. What matters is how well I loved my children (was I patient and fully present?). Did I take the time to listen to my husband, really listen? Did I encourage others? Serve them? To humbly submit to God? After all, I'm not Him. He's on the throne of this world and I'm his servant: not the other way around.

"God will give ear and humble them, he who is enthroned from of old, Selah, because they do not change and do not fear God." Psalm 55:19 (ESV)


(photo cred Felipe Santana)Unsplash

Give me a Break...

Zip through a couple of days that I'd label unsuccessful and the idea of making any more decisions almost seems overwhelming.  What book should we study next? Where do you want to meet tomorrow? What time? Do you want one cookie or two? What kind of hot tea do you want? Seriously. I can't go there right now.

Aaron sighed, "I'm tired of making decisions." No joke. Give me a drawing pad and take away my license; I've decided to be a kid again. As one of my friends says, "This adulting thing stinks."

After dealing with mouthy kids and frustrating technology and leaky faucets and worn-down appliances and wondering, what am I going to need to fix next, we drive up to Ozark to purchase a used van. We'd already test-driven it and--we thought--fully assessed the pros/cons. Unfortunately, the van barely made it out of the drive-way before not one, but two squeaks started assailing our ears. Really? Where was this cacophonous concert when we drove it last week?

We pull into Aldi to buy our weekly groceries and think, "Oh, well...hopefully the mechanic can figure this junk out without it costing too much." Still, I'm feeling a little bit like someone handed me a shiny red balloon and then popped it.

After loading the groceries into the back of the Honda, Aaron gets the kids buckled and then turns the key. Nothing. Nada. Dead.

We give each other a look and wonder, can we laugh about this? Because if we don't, I think I might cry. It's not the van; it's not even the money. It's just the one. more. thing. One more detail. One more call. One more task on my list. One more thing to process and act on. Where's the cruise control on life when you need it?

I follow Aaron and the kids home in our seemingly more reliable '99 Dodge Caravan. Okay, why did we feel the need to buy another vehicle? My natural tendency is to fume, but I know what I've got to do: pray. Just leave it with me, Kristin. Talk to me about how you feel. Ask me for perspective. 

So I do, but I feel tired and distracted and empty--soul fatigue. His patience astounds me. Somehow I hear His whisper: worship me. Thank me. 
I'd love to say I jumped into gratitude with enthusiasm, but truthfully, my words came more as a sacrifice than anything else. At least, at first.

I love learning new worship songs, but the choruses that return to my mind are ones I heard growing up. When I need to sing to an audience of one, I pull from that repertoire.
I started singing a song that I haven't heard for probably two decades: let me take you back to Hosanna's praise. It's Give Thanks with a Grateful Heart. Henry Smith wrote the song in the 70's, in the midst of dealing with joblessness and a disease that eventually left him blind. The song itself contains simple lyrics and a repetitious chorus:

                  Give thanks with a grateful heart,
                  Give thanks to the Holy One.
                  Give thanks because He's given Jesus Christ, His Son.

Though I kept singing, the last line snagged and stuck. I don't worship Him just when He gives me obedient kids, reliable vehicles, a healthy body, or stable relationships. I praise Him because He's given me a Savior. And if that's it, it's more than enough.

I was talking to my mom tonight, asking her if she'd help me get the van into the auto shop, and she reminded me of something that has quickly become one of her catch phrases: "It's just stuff."

It all breaks down, crumbles by mold, moth, and decay. But, what He's already given us in Christ is secured for all of eternity. With that gift, how can I say anything but thank you? Maybe your stressers carry a heavier weight: cancer, divorce, rebellion. Maybe it's not just a car or house that's broken down, but a marriage...a spirit of hope. I know what it feels like to give up too, but He doesn't reciprocate. Remember, that He makes all things new. What He touches doesn't stay the same. He has put His imprint on us and sealed us for all eternity.

"He anointed us, set His seal of ownership on us, and put His Spirit in our hearts as a deposit, guaranteeing what is to come." 2 Cor. 1:21-22

And I am "justified by His grace through the redemption that is in Jesus Christ." Romans 3:24

Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ! In his great mercy he has given us new birth into a living hope through the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead, and into an inheritance that can never perish, spoil or fade—kept in heaven for you, who through faith are shielded by God’s power until the coming of the salvation that is ready to be revealed in the last time.
1 Peter 1:3–5

Today, I just need to be thankful...

So, I'm taking the opportunity to publicly do what often feels like a begrudging task--just being honest. I know thankfulness increases joy and lessens frustration. Gratitude garnishes peace and restores perspective...and yet, I'm often reluctant to just sit and thank.

Why?

Because there's so much still to do... Because there's so much to change, improve, accomplish...
Because gratitude feels final in some ways, like I'm letting God off the hook to answer what I desperately want (healing, answers to questions, wisdom for parenting, direction, etc.). "After all, don't get any ideas that I'm too content here, God. I still need you to see to these things on my list...and the sooner the better." Seriously. Just being honest about my ugly sometimes. And yes, I realize how outrageously absurd this attitude is. It's rebellious, disrespectful, entitled, and self-absorbed. It diminishes what the Lord has done and continues to do and instead channels my inner complainer by whining, "What now?" Am I really telling Him, "It's never enough?" REally? Is He even LORD at that point?

If He never "blessed" me again. If He took everything and left me nothing but my eternal security, would I have anything to say but "bless Your Holy Name"?

The most challenging aspect of our relationship lately hasn't been the various speed-bumps I've hit the last two months: it's been His seeming silence. I say "seeming" because it appears that He isn't talking to me, but perhaps I just don't have my ears tuned to hear. And yet, even if He was taking me through a desert season of quiet, would I be faithful to trust Him in that silence? Do I deserve the Almighty God to regularly converse with me whenever I scream? Do I demand He talk/answer when I expect?

So, today--despite the many frustrations--I am turning towards the blessings of His allowances and benefits.

 I'm thankful for
... a warm home on a rainy day...
....the opportunity to work from home and focus uninterrupted (thanks to Grandmom every Monday afternoon).
...the patience to teach my children to read. Landon read his own "congratulation" card and finished up his reading book this past week. Two down, one to go!

 ...for Lego messes scattered throughout the house--evidence of quality time going on with Daddy and kids.
...the creativity that generates from my three very different children.
...upcoming birthday celebrations--life.
...online Christmas shopping.
...working washing machine and dryer.
...hot water.
...fall decorations.

I'm thankful for...
encouraging friends at small group.
challenging words from my pastor.
evidence of God at work.
hope for the future.

15 For it is all for your sake, so that as grace extends to more and more people it may increase thanksgiving, to the glory of God. 

16 So we do not lose heart. Though our outer self is wasting away, our inner self is being renewed day by day. 

17 For this light momentary affliction is preparing for us an eternal weight of glory beyond all comparison, 

18 as we look not to the things that are seen but to the things that are unseen. For the things that are seen are transient, but the things that are unseen are eternal. 2 Corinthians 4:15-18

Every Day...A Choice...This Over This

Tuesday I wake up crippled by the burden of doubt. I am literally dis-couraged out of facing the reality of my life. What's the point? What is this? What does it matter? Am I even making a dent? Do these sacrifices make a difference? Am I really sacrificing what you want me to, God? I need more prayer covering today; my spirit is feeling bombarded by lies. By the afternoon, His truth is reigning again. And I'm asking, "What now?"

Wednesday I face the day more hopeful; despite the questions and fatigue, He is still ever near...ever present. Bible study time opens up new emotions and refreshing reminders: He chooses me and His love doesn't change or fade. He loves me (such simple words we'll never fully grasp--but oh, if we could!) When I have Him, I have everything. And when I have everything, I am not afraid to give up everything.

Matt Redman - All That Really Matters

LET OUR LIVES BECOME A SONG FOR YOU
Like a prayer that reaches high
The glory of Your name our greatest cause

Let our lives become an offering
Ever pleasing to Your heart
The glory of Your name our highest call

All that really matters
All that really counts is found in You
What else would we live for?
You're the Way, the Life, the Truth
All that really matters is You

Let our lives become a light for You
Like a city on a hill
We'll glorify Your name forevermore, Lord

King of glory, be the center
King of glory, You'll be the prize
We shall have no other treasure
All that counts is You lifted high

All that matters, all that really matters is You
All that matters, all that really matters is You

 

The 2013 Hillary Swank movie, Mary and Martha* (incidentally having nothing to do with the biblical characters), happens to be my evening "unwind" choice. I don't normally go to movies that much anymore, but reading after the day I've had feels too heavy an activity. I need to unravel--not weave in more thoughts.  Well, my choice--unbeknownst to me--would prove to have the opposite effect. Heart breaking over the burden of this world's pain, I am weeping before the movie is half over. At one point, Mary (Hillary Swank's character) says, "We spend so much time obsessed or angry over things that don't matter." Yes, do I ever. Forgive me, Lord; I do.

Is this what it means to live with meaning, Lord? My heart breaking over what hurts you? My heart aching for the pain of loss? I want to make a difference. I want to shine your light into the darkness...the hopelessness.

This pain that penetrates the soul never leaves us inactive. Such comprehension can't. We react; we respond. We say, "Now what? What can I do?"

My husband prays over us, asks God to grant us ever-revealing perspective... And the tears keep coming; I can't stop them.

For how do we lie down to sleep on our Postur-Pedic mattress in our air-conditioned home with our children snuggled away under the hush of sound machines and Disney nightlights and say, "this is it"?
How do we spend more on one meal than a family in Haiti will spend in a month?
How do we justify $2000 playsets and upgraded phones and new furniture or a fall wardrobe when last year's are still in good condition? I'd like to buy a nicer kitchen faucet and replace my carpet.

How can we worry about the material aesthetics over the essential needs of others?

How do we look at the hunger, the desperate condition in which our fellow human beings barely exist, and say, I choose to pay for a manicure over the physical and soul needs of a child dying? Where an estimated 600,000 children die each year from malaria (one precious child every 30 seconds)! Can we even imagine?

How do we say "this over this"? My wants over your needs.


How do I?

Perspective.
Pride.
Power.

We think too highly of ourselves and our existence here. I am not the reason I'm here. God is the reason I'm here and my life is His--always and forever. And I don't want to forget that. To forget is to waste the greatest opportunity we're afforded.  When I allow my heart to be moved closer to His, I want to press in; in humility and service to we draw ever near to our Creator and Savior--the most fulfilling and peaceful place we'll be.

My daughter finishes the movie with me and she asks questions. I answer truthfully. The reality still shakes me to tears--may it never not. We get on Compassion's website and compare and read and we talk about it all.  Why wait? For what? Until I change my mind? Until another child dies? Until I forget and start coasting again?

I ask my daughter to count the money she's been saving up to give away. It's a random $37 and some change. I tell her what I want to give today and she gives me a number and then looks down and smiles with reservation and asks to increase it a little more. I let her type in the number amount (if I'm being purely honest...it's a lot of money for our means). When she walks away, I start to round the number down, but I feel a prick (is that $30 of so important? Do I really need it? No.) I look at the arbitrary number. She decision doesn't make much sense to me, and then I realize that the amount she typed in is exactly what it will cost to send mosquito nets, medicine and supplies for 10 people.

I am moved by the influence of one child to give. Does she understand the "value of a dollar"? Not really. But she's willing to sell toys and clothes. She's painted pictures to raise money for wells in Africa. She's donated some of her favorite stuffed animals. She's given up more than half a bag of Oreos she earned, just because she wanted to (and for a six-year-old who never gets them, that's big). :)    She may not understand the value of a dollar, but she grasps the value of giving.

Can we save every child? Of course not. But we can perhaps help save one...or two...or ten, bringing hope into their lives, sharing the love of Jesus with them. And for that, isn't it worth it?

[Disclaimer]: You get the unscripted blog processing today.When I started writing, I didn't set out to talk about malaria, or any other specific soapbox. I just see so many world needs and this one is moving me today. Whatever moves you to act, be exhorted to do so. God has given you a heart for that need, so be obedient to that tug. If your ache is a world-issue, trust organizations like Compassion International and Samaritan's Purse. They spend their money wisely and they always attach it to the Gospel of Jesus Christ.




*Available for free on Amazon Prime (free trial month available). one word of caution: there is some language in the film.

Why I Hate Jane Austen Films

I don't really hate Austen or her work, but I've found that they draw me into a mythical fantasy that often leaves me discontent.
If you are as much of a fanatic as I am, you know the love/hate emotions Austenian pieces can bring.
Aside from the pitiful situation the Dashwood women find themselves in (yes, that little cottage is larger than my house), most of the main characters of Austen's books live in elegant affluence.

A few weeks back I watched the BBC mini-series on Austen's Emma. What a life! Excuse me, what is this? Nothing to do but paint, arrange flowers and take long walks with friends. Bored? Just plan a Ball, a trip to London, or an outing to Box Hill. Sure, sign me up.

Well, I say that, but my Type-A personality would soon bristle under the limitations women found themselves in (no jobs, no self-reliance, no even inheriting one's fortune). Stifling.

Yeah,...

But when the grind starts to pressure me into smaller granules, I crack, and, yes, it would be okay for a day....or ten. 

Let's try to live like that... 

Minus the child mortality rate, the high risk of infection/death, the lack of indoor plumbing and sanitation, the civil unrest, and the social barriers that kept the rich richer and the poor poorer. Yeah, minus that stuff.  

13 Reasons You Wouldn't Want To Live In Jane Austen's England

So maybe I don't really want to live in Austenland. I think I will pass. Georgian society isn't all roses and pearls.
But here's the good news: you can still live like sophisticated gentry if you take up one of their habits. Piano forte, anyone?
There's also watercolor painting, drawing, embroidery.
One could learn a new language: Latin, French, Spanish.
Horseback riding, genealogies, letter writing.
Yes, I am feeling quite unaccomplished now.
Here a few other ideas: granted, not all fall into the 18th century, but I'm sure you could add your own list.

The list of accomplishments is indeed long, as can be seen in Pride and Prejudice, in the discussion Mr Darcy, Mr Bingley, Miss Bingley and Elizabeth Bennet have on the subject. If Mr Bingley's requirements are initially limited ("'paint tables, cover screens, and net purses'"), Mr Darcy and Miss Bingley are agreed in demanding some much more serious talents, such as a "'thorough knowledge of music, singing, drawing, dancing, and the modern languages'", as well as "'a certain something in her air and manner of walking, the tone of her voice, her address and expressions'". To these, Mr Darcy adds "'the improvement of her mind by extensive reading.'"(resource)

Bottom line: I should spend more time doing something useful and less time pining for a life that never truly existed. The beauty of these films/books--if you let it take hold--is that life is about perspective and gratitude.
One can always focus on the have-not's and make oneself miserable, but if I chose to appreciate what is and all the abundance beyond what a fantasy cannot deliver, I am exceedingly thankful that I wasn't born 200 years ago....even if it was at Pemberley.

A Grief Unwrapped

Grief is kind of like the lens of a camera.  Sometimes the zoom spans out, giving the viewer a bigger picture (perspective, hope, breathing room). But during times of raw emotion and aching memories, the lens transforms into a microscope, keeping the griever from seeing things with enough scope to cope.  The image is too close for anything else to enter the picture. It overwhelms.

The last few weeks, with Christmas on the horizon, the dulled pain of loss becomes more acute again. The lens zoom narrows and focuses on those little memories, those times when life was different, more complete and not void of someone so core to your family.  For you, in may be a grandparent, a spouse, a sibling. For me, it's my dad.

This is our second Christmas without him, but the distance has made the holidays no less painful. In fact, if I allow myself to analyze, I think this Christmas is harder than last because I haven't adequately prepared myself for it--ignorantly, I didn't think I needed to. So, in a way, the grief sideswiped my blindside and leaves me slightly stunned.

My daughter and I just finished watching Little Women--her first, my uncounted. The film always makes me cry at least twice. But a death scene hits me strange now, pinging something deeper in my soul than it used to. Before Dad left, I would cry because I had fully entered the lives of those in the story, but now I cry because so much of what they feel, think, say, and experience pulls back the pain of March 23rd.

I try to hold onto the good, but sometimes I just want to scream. Want to hear his voice, the voice I seem to be forgetting.  I want to feel his arms around me, hugging me and patting my back. I want to watch him laugh over a Monk episode or play a game of Rummy, and sit on the beach with Dad. I want to feel the calm of his presence, take a walk around the neighborhood with him, see him color with my kids again. I want to bake him his favorite cherry pie and surprise him with it. I want to ask him questions about God and personality weaknesses we both dealt with. I want to quit feeling this void when I go to their house, the house he built.

I appreciate all the times Dad was there for me, driving to my college to tune-up my car or shovel snow out from behind the tires, leaving me notes on the dash. The times he reminded me to check the oil and keep at least a half a tank of gas in the tank during winter.  I appreciate all the times he ran up to our house to do fix-it jobs or install a shelf or repair a faucet, just because he knew it needed to happen. I appreciate the house standing warm and sturdy around me, a gift of countless unpaid hours of service--a 9-year-old wedding gift. I appreciate all the times Dad offered his service and love.

Dad taught the value of hard work, saving, being responsible for myself and family, giving abundantly, and desiring to study God's Word.

Because of Dad, I appreciate John Wayne, The Andy Griffith Show, Glenn Miller, donuts, well-crafted crown-molding, farm-fresh eggs, gardening, and the value of a good stretch. Because of Dad, I crave vacations on the beach, road trips to surprise places, and a simpler existence at home.

If you are unwrapping grief this Christmas season, remember a few things:
         1.) This life does have a purpose, but we were made for eternity. 
             Be prepared for life and death. Apart from Jesus, neither make sense and both will be filled
             with confusion, separation, pain and despair.

        2.) Trust that God's lens is much bigger than ours--not just "bigger" for that word doesn't
              begin to capture the magnitude of God's scope. He sees all, understands all, and has our very
              best in His hands.

         3.) Don't ignore your pain, but reach outside of it. I was talking with a sweet prayer partner
              at our church who is widowed and also recently lost her mother. She has no children or
              and other family members are distant or elusive. She is spending part of Christmas with a
              friend and their family.  But what if said friend hadn't considered her position and made that
              invitation?  There are always lonely people around us, those who are widowed, orphaned or
              rejected. God wouldn't have mentioned these people so often in His Words if they weren't
              imperative to remember.

13 But we do not want you to be uninformed, brothers, about those who are asleep, that you may not grieve as others do who have no hope. 14 For since we believe that Jesus died and rose again, even so, through Jesus, God will bring with him those who have fallen asleep. 15 For this we declare to you by a word from the Lord,[a] that we who are alive, who are left until the coming of the Lord, will not precede those who have fallen asleep. 16 For the Lord himself will descend from heaven with a cry of command, with the voice of an archangel, and with the sound of the trumpet of God. And the dead in Christ will rise first.17 Then we who are alive, who are left, will be caught up together with them in the clouds to meet the Lord in the air, and so we will always be with the Lord.18 Therefore encourage one another with these words. I Thess. 4:13-18