Breakdown

Don't worry. I'm fine. Just looking at a verse, breaking it down.

There's lots going on and I have churning in my guts. In thinking about some things today, this verse came to mind. When I Googled it looked it up, it gave me the option to list different translations. Okay! That kinda thing trips my trigger. Here's the breakdown:

1 Peter 5:8

Be self controlled and alert; 
be sober, be watchful; 
be serious and keep watch; 
be clearheaded, keep alert; 
stay sober, stay alert; 
be sober-minded; 
keep your mind clear; 
be vigilant; 
control yourselves; 
be on your guard; 
discipline yourselves; 
keep a cool head; 
curb every passion.

Wow. That's just the first sentence.

You opponent, adversary, enemy, your great accuser, the Evil One, the devil...

...prowls, walks, stalks, goes, is poised to pounce...

like a roaring lion 

...looking for someone to devour, 

seeking whom he may swallow up, 

would like nothing better than to catch you napping, 

looking for some victim, 

someone to chew up and swallow.

It's interesting how "he" seems to be all sneaky-sneaky with the prowling and stalking, but yet is a ROARING lion. I am thankful for the warning to be on guard, to pay attention, but do we often bother with that? Do we heed that warning? Do we do anything about it?

I am sensing a lot of spiritual turmoil "in the atmosphere." I'm feeling this warning. However, in the past, even when I have felt that spiritual prompting, I have failed to adequately suit up. I have not kept a cool head. I have not been self-controlled. I drop my guard, fail to be alert or clearheaded, fail to see the trap, and I walk right into battle. The battle scars are still visible, still painful, and nothing good has been accomplished. Nothing healed, nothing redeemed.

Lord Jesus, prepare me. Help me to cloak myself in the full armor of God so that I am equipped to take a stand against the devil's schemes. Help me to recognize the powers of the dark world, the spiritual forces in the heavenly realm, to separate them from people and hearts, and that I may act accordingly, in your will. Help me to wield weapons of love, grace, mercy and forgiveness, instead of beating "my opponent" with "truth" or sharp arrows. I admit to my foolish ways, my foolish thinking, my loose tongue. God I ask that you would be my wisdom and understanding, and that you would teach me to be a little more like you with every breath I take. 

Lord, Prepare me. In Jesus name.

Who are you?

I consider this blog rather private. I don't tell many people about it, and though you can see it on my Blogger profile, most people don't check that. I use this as a place to process some very deep stuff within myself, and writing is, at times, cathartic for me, helps draw things out.

On my last post, which was one such type of post, I linked up to another blog by a writer who has done the same in her space, of baring it all, so to speak. Who was asking people to share stories of brokenness and/or mending. And so I did.

That particular post of mine got 99 views. And only one comment. One comment from a friend who I asked specifically if she would read the post as I had talked to her about my struggles.

Now, I'm not doing this for the comments. Heaven knows, cuz I don't ever get any. Which is fine. I'm really ok with that. But, when almost one hundred people read something you've written and no one says anything, it sort of makes you feel a little like a freak show, imagining that people are out there going "OMG! That chick is crazy /  needs antidepressants / is self absorbed / is the worst Christian ever." Whatever. The imagination can really go places. Not-commenting leads me to the feeling that no one is experiencing or has experienced that same inner dilemma. Really? No one? I'm the only one with screwed up priorities?

And, there's one particular person, based on my view tracker, from my area, who checks this blog almost daily, or at least a few times a week.

WHO ARE YOU?

What say you? I am a person who appreciates feedback, even if it's not of the fluffy, make-you-feel-good sort, as long as it's honest and done in kindness. I value friends who can be honest with me, even and especially, when it's uncomfortable (for the both of us), because that shows me you care enough not to let me wallow in my crap. And for the record, I'm preferential to not wallowing.

So maybe, if you don't want to speak up and make yourself less of a stalker known, then you should just kindly delete my website from your bookmark list.

I'm not interested in being a freak show. Having 5 kids gets me enough of that.

Or, you could weigh in, because I value what you have to say.

Thanks.

Numero Uno.

**This post has been rewritten. I shouldn’t have published the first version without giving it time to simmer. It’s now been a few days, more things have happened / thoughts have occurred, went to church and God always speaks to me there. Then I read a post that could almost have been written by me. You can read it here. It has a lot more grace and calm, which I needed and brought here.**

My priorities are all screwed up. That's what I'm coming to realize. Actually, I've realized it for a while I just didn't want to admit it. It’s a little scary to be admitting it out loud.

God’s certainly been doing a roto-router job on me this year. Combine that with what I suspect could be hormone changes and it feels like disaster, loud and tear-stained. Yet, while it’s very uncomfortable to go through change and growth (aka hardship and disaster, emotional anguish or what have you), if you allow change to be made, if you let go of your control and trust that God will catch you on the other side, it’s so very good. I’m still waiting for that “very good” part. Also, consequently, the allowing and letting go parts.

This year has been about cleansing. Stinky old lies have been brought to light, things big and small uncovered. There has been some growth into new territory in marriage, though difficult, and I expect more is to come. Over the summer, I have experienced some healing of old wounds (think grade school / junior high, old) and though that’s pretty new, I think there is freedom there I haven’t even discovered yet. Work continues also in where I turn to, not only in times of trouble, but at every moment of the day, from whom I draw my strength, and trusting that God’s actually going to be there. Which brings me to the biggie. Numero Uno.

Who is my Numero Uno?

With all the stuff I’ve been delving into and attempting to process (sometimes unsuccessfully), on top of dealing with the day to day of being a mom to five kids and wife to a semi-absentee husband, a person can get pretty crispy. There’s only so much you can pile on one person.

My heart feels smashed. My senses are overloaded. My emotions bubble, constantly, at the surface, all day, every day, overwhelming me. Anger, sadness, grief, frustration, lonliness, hunger, ache, desperation - all unrelenting. And satan is doing a real number on my thought life, like you have no idea. It’s killer, I tell ya. But there’s just simply not time for me. Cuz, you know, I’m a mom. There’s always some need or task that calls me away from the freedom to feel and to process, and to listen to what God has to say. I keep (yes, keep, as this is very much an in-progress situation) looking to my spouse to be my healer, my savior, the one who lifts me up, salves my wounds, encourages me, who is strong where I am weak, my knight on a white horse swooping in to make it all better.

My husband is not that guy. And while he has room for his own improvement, the problem is largely within me.

*suck in breath*

That hurts to say.

I weep.

He shouldn’t be all that. That’s a lot to ask of anyone. He can't be my everything. And yet I have tried to make him that. My husband is not my savior. Nor my healer. There is only One, and his name is not Jayson. It’s Jesus.

Jesus is the only one with self-sacrificial love for me. He is the only one who knows my inner most being. He is the only one that can soothe those deep, deep places, without me even having to speak them.

And yet, while knowing that, I keep trying to beat it out my spouse. Demand it, force it, beg for it.

You know what that produces? Conflict. Heartache. Disappointment. More lonliness. It pushes farther away that which I desperately crave.

I want to be loved.

As much as my heart aches, my soul aches more. But for some reason, I am unwilling, or unable, to surrender the fact that I place my husband, inappropriately, as Numero Uno, not God. I look to my husband to fill me, to give me all the love and reassurance I need. To ease all my hurts and comfort my weary soul. I make him the center of my universe. I love God, but I can't say that I love Him most. As a Christian, I am ashamed to admit that.  (See Commandment #1 - Thou shalt have no other gods before me.) But I don’t know how to love God more. I don’t know how to feel his love more.

In church on Sunday we sang this song (and this is the only version I can find but I believe it was written by Joel Hanson of PFR)

Chorus:

Under

I’m going under

Let the water

Water wash over

Let me rise up

Out of these old ways

Into new life

Into your name

As I started to sing this chorus, I had an image of myself going under water, drowning. And that’s how I often feel. But then I saw, instead, rising up, like a baptism. Emerging out of the water. New. Free. Mended. Whole.

I want the baptism, not the drowning. To be a new creation.

This part’s pretty good too.

Mark me with love that flows from your name

As I plunge under and rise again 

(which reminds me that more big waves will come, it’s never just one)

Let your kingdom rule to the depths of my soul

Make me free, make me whole.

Lord, forgive me. Help me. Please, hear my cries. I don’t know where to go from here. Create in me a clean heart, O God, and renew a right spirit, and a right order, within me.

Do you have a story of brokenness, one of being mended or needing mending? It's important to share those stories so we know we're not alone. Angie Smith, in honor of her new book release entitled Mending, she is asking for people to share their stories. If you are interesting in the book, it can be purchased at Barnes & Noble or Amazon.

Bless the Lord, O My Soul [pt 5]

It'd been a while since I had a night off.  It felt like years.

I was excited for my date night; relief was coming.

That day I had a bunch of errands to do, grocery shopping, house cleaning, so it was busy.  All five kids in tow, we  plodded our way through the wal-Marts - bathroom breaks, junk food requests, the usual chimes of "I hate this store" (by my kids, not me). Through it all, I had the chorus of this song in my head.  And I sang it everywhere.  Out loud.

Bless the Lord, O My Soul,

O My Soul.

Worship His holy name.

Sing like never before,

O my soul, Worship his holy name.

Just the chorus.  I sang it in the bathroom while waiting for kids.  I sang it walking down the isles.  In the car. Over and over and over again.  It's soothing, but it also evokes something.  It calls out, like a request and proclamation all at once.  Bless the Lord, O my Soul.

All night I sang it.  While picking up toys, folding laundry, vacuuming, making supper.  The sitter came, and I went on my merry way, still singing this song.  In the restaurant, in the car, all the places I went.

I sort of made some rules for myself in regards to date night.  To be by myself. To do something relaxing - not a night filled with errands. To give myself opportunity to feel, process, mourn, scream, cry, sleep, sing, dance, or whatever it is I NEED to do to feed my soul and my spirit, to process emotions, to find rest for my weary self.

On my date night, I went to a local pub for some supper, patio time, and a little book study reading.  I enjoyed myself.  I soaked in the silence despite the distractions.  I reveled in sitting.  I eavesdropped and people watched.  I looked at light and shadows.

This song is still seeping out of my soul and my mouth.

When I got home, I went to my envelope to get the babysitter money, and I took out the card that was included. This is the front of the card:

If that's not a confirmation that I'm on the right path and that God is paving the way, then I DON'T KNOW WHAT IS.

Since the song I had been singing all day and the card I received was this very bit from Psalm 103, I felt compelled to look it up.

103 Bless the Lord, O my soul,
    and all that is within me,
    bless his holy name!
² Bless the Lord, O my soul,
    and forget not all his benefits,
³ who forgives all your iniquity,
    who heals all your diseases,
⁴ who redeems your life from the pit,
    who crowns you with steadfast love and mercy,
⁵ who satisfies you with good
    so that your youth is renewed like the eagle's.

It felt like obedience. And blessing, provision (not so much monetary but by providing what I need - rest), and answered prayer.

I like being obedient. It feels good.

The saga continues - part four

Of one thing I am absolutely sure:  I'm right where I'm supposed to be.  While it's not a comfortable place, it's a good feeling.  A weird sort of confidence, of sorts.  I love my church, the pastors, the people, the teaching.  The sermons were/are proof positive that it's the right place for me.

While I may feel despair at times, I know not all hope is lost.  It's in God's hands.  I am discouraged and encouraged.  There are lots of up and downs in my world, but I know God's with me every step of the way, and he's SPEAKIN'!

Just get on with the story already, right?

So I listened to the sermon on rest, knowing it's a message for me.  (Did I mention I bawled like a fool?  And that each sermon has had these killer testimonials from someone in our body?  It's so excellent.)  I know I'm supposed to rest, and I'm making efforts to do so.  I've scheduled the babysitter.  

After church, someone comes up to me and hands me a card.  I don't open it immediately as I was in group conversation, but later I open the envelope to find a note explaining that they wanted to offer to watch my kids weekly this summer but schedule conflicts made it not possible so instead here's some cash for a sitter. And I don't mean $20 bucks.  I mean, enough for a good portion of the summer's Date Nights with myself.

Are you getting goose bumps yet?  I think a prayer was just answered.

There is now NO REASON why I can cancel out on myself (except illness but I'm thinking more of financial reasons.)  No bicycles to buy, vacations to fund, swimming lessons to pay for.  It's earmarked money.  In a way, I'm obligated.  The gift was intended for a specific purpose.  This is the provision my friend prayed for.  I'm floored.  And grateful.  And humbled.  And awed. God is good.

But that's not the end of the story. Praise God!

Changing

I have never felt that God has left me. He still speaks, and I hear, but I also often forget. Sometimes I'm left with impressions, but they don't stick, usually. Nothing changes in me. It's frustrating.

But then...

God has begun changing my "idea" of how I can get rest. I felt Him changing my thoughts, changing what I thought possible, and planting seeds of "well maybe it could happen." I actually, consciously, felt my mind changing while I was sitting in my car, crying on my friend's shoulder. 

That's how I allowed myself to lay on my bed. To rest. To do nothing. It's how I've realized that the Hawaiian vacation isn't the cure to what ails me. It's how I've found hope in getting out of this mess. He's renewing my mind. This is a very, very good thing. I so desperately want to be changed by Him.

Most "coincidentally" (because God can be so coincidental sometimes") another friend had me on her mind during her morning prayer time, and called me to let me know that and to check in to see what was up. More truth spoken, more encouraging words, and a prayer for provision for me to get this rest that I need, specifically that someone would offer to watch my kids.

I am very thankful to be surrounded by such good people. People I GLADLY call my friends.

********************************

My church had been going through this book (A Good and Beautiful God) and the sermons were based on it. I have not read the book (because it was just one. more. thing. on a to-do list, frankly.) or participate in the small group meetings, but the sermons have cut straight to my heart. Yowza! They all spoke right to me. There was something in each one that left me a soggy, blubbering, tear-stained mess. That's also a good thing. Well, after my first week of "embracing rest," any guesses as to what the sermon was about??? Hm...??? Yeah. About resting, and specifically resting in Him. It was entitled "Eliminating Hurry from your Life." (6/10/12) 

Here are some of my sermon notes. 

• The story of Mary and Martha was brought up, how Martha "distracted" herself, with important things but not the most important thing, but that Mary chose the better thing by resting at Jesus' feet. We have a lot of choices of how to "best spend our time" and while all of them may be good / productive / beneficial, we need to evaluate what is BEST.
• God's work begins with rest. 
• The idea of Velocity Made Good, (a sailing term) of making note of what the Spirit is doing and riding the spirit waves, so to speak, that lead us to time spent with God
• "In slowing down, we can hear the Spirit whisper that we are loved."

I'll say that last one again, because I need to hear it.

"In slowing down, we can hear the Spirit whisper that we are loved."

I need to hear that I'm loved. That I'm good and worthy. But how can I hear it amongst laundry and dishes and phone calls and tv noise, sibling rivalry, marital discord, toddler tantrums and a mischievous preschooler? I just see all that I don't do, all that I fail (miserably) at, I find disappointment in my spouse's voice, in my child's eyes, and in the mess around me. None of that measures up in my eyes to good and worthy and loved. But I need to hear it anyway. And in order to hear it, I have to make space and time for Him to speak it, for me to listen and to hear it.

I have to find out what God is speaking to me right now that is best for me.

Date Night with myself. It's where the Spirit is blowing me.

De-crispify Part two

Rest. Why is that so hard? Why do I feel so guilty?

That fear that I'm not living up to expectations, that resting is bad. But the damned truth is, I'm not living up to expectations, mine or anyone else's, and I'm not accomplishing anything. I have no drive, no get up and go, no gumption. And I'm KNEE DEEP in numb-outs.

Problem is... they're NOT helping.

So, I took some time. I actually laid on my bed while the kids were out playing or whatever (gasp!) (Not the baby, he was napping.) and I laid on my bed. Doing nothing. Not even sleeping. Weird, huh? While my mind wasn't blank, neither was it racing. I wasn't feeling guilty. I was just resting. And... I did this... twice... in one week!

-------------------------------------

Sometimes I get an idea in my head of how things should go and I have a hard time diverging from that path. Anything else is just "not gonna work" or there's disappointment for things not going "as I planned."  I see the big picture and have a really hard time breaking it down into bite sized chunks.  This is defeating.  This makes things overwhelming.  This leads to discouragement and feelings of failure.  So naturally, with this train of thought, nothing less than a 2 week Hawaiian vacation sans kids/husband optional was going to cure my life's woes.  No, really, that's what I thought.  That's about as unrealistic as you could get in my world so am I doomed to always be like this?  That's what has been running through my fat head.  I know.  I'm so positive.

During my conversation with my friend after church one Sunday, the thought started to form that I just need to take time for myself and God, regularly, even if it is only a few hours.  Because Hawaiian vacations are nice (so I've heard)  but they don't really help your day-to-day.  God will meet me somewhere, wherever, but I needed to find rest.  So that I am able to hear him.  Then I can find Him.  And rest in Him. The final convincing element for me believing small breaks would help was actually getting some small chunks of time to myself.  Having a few hours away with less demands (read: 1 kid vs 5).  Two one-hour "naps".  A kid at 'Camp Grandpa'.  VBS.  And one completely kid-less morning.  And I was starting to feel the cloud lifting.

I booked a sitter for the following Tuesday.  Because a few hours away - with NO AGENDA - by myself (and that's sorta the tricky part, because my inclination is to call someone, but no) will help.  There will be "something" accomplished with my "nothing."

And then God started showing up.

Decrispify Part one.

I've been having a rough go of things for quite some time now. I'm actually starting to wonder if it is that whole "getting older / hormonal shift" thing. Or if that is at least part of it. Overtired mom of five is also probably part of it. Life is probably part of it.

I'm very emotional and not dealing with it (my emotions) well.

This too shall pass. Of that I'm sure. It's just a matter of riding it out.

This winter I participated in a sort of bible study that is essentially peer counseling. It's tough. It digs deep. You have to devote time. You have to be willing. You have to be prepared.

I was. And I wasn't.

I think, mostly, I just. got. stuck. Skipped over some crucial part of the process, and I need to back up a bit. I did great at digging stuff up, not so great at actually dealing with and finding healing and closure. So that left me with all my piles of personal baggage crap all dumped around me, stinkin' up the place, saying, "ok God, now what?" And so, I was unable to complete it. My mind and heart were just not going there any more.. They were not willing. I was crispy fried. Crispy. Fried.

So since the end of April, I've been trying to decompress, de-crispify, if you will. It's a slow process. Painstakingly slow.

On one of my particularly shameful days, I ended up talking to a friend who listened, spoke truth, and encouraged me to TAKE THAT TIME, MAKE THE TIME for me. Because I need it. I'm worth it. 

I have thought a lot about it, about taking time for me and what that looks like. There are so many great books that people recommend, or I could read my bible, I could do this or that or 10 million other things. But mostly, I need rest. That's what I've come down to. I need to not do, to not have an agenda or a list of things I need to accomplish. I simply need a time where I don't "accomplish" anything. For some reason I really had a hard time wrapping my head around the fact that that was ok, because as moms/humans I think we're so programmed to go go go and do do do. I have no go and no do left in me. 

And I feel guilty about that. Because that means I've failed somehow. Or that's how it feels.

But.... I've never been one to do things other people's way so here I am, forging my own path. Or rather, being led on a different path. A path of rest. For now.

Face to the sun *Emended Version

I know I've said this a million times, to anyone who reads any of my blog posts, Facebook statuses or talks to me in person, but I LOVE love love perspective. I love it when I see things in a new way, have them explained to me so I get a fresh understanding, a revelation. Something clicks. A light bulb goes off. Ordinary becomes extraordinary.

As often happens, one thing led to another and I ended up reading this. 

So here's what I want you to do, God helping you: Take your everyday, ordinary life—your sleeping, eating, going-to-work, and walking-around life—and place it before God as an offering. Embracing what God does for you is the best thing you can do for him. Don't become so well-adjusted to your culture that you fit into it without even thinking. Instead, fix your attention on God. You'll be changed from the inside out*. Readily recognize what he wants from you, and quickly respond to it. Unlike the culture around you, always dragging you down to its level of immaturity, God brings the best out of you, develops well-formed maturity in you.

*Haven't I heard those words before somewhere?

That's Roman's 12:1-2. A fairly well known set of scripture verses. And while some people may argue the validity of The Message translation, it's a guy who has taken scripture and explained it to you and me as if we were having a conversation about it, in real today language. Conversation about what God is saying is always good.

So today, I can take the laundry, bill-keeping / budget balancing, parenting, cooking, conversations with friends, tv watching and Facebooking, and place it at God's feet. What parts of that do I not feel worthy of being an offering? Was what I cooked for my family the best, or even the medium of what I could have done? How about forgetting to pay the gas bill for the 8th day in a row? The hugs and kisses and encouragement I gave to my children certainly are good and worthy, but the grumbling and shouting could probably be trimmed off the "fatted calf." Did I spend too much time on the computer today, brushing my children away in favor of some mildly interesting story about someone else's life that I don't even know? Or did I grant my full attention to the skinned knee, the requests for play doh? Does it feel like God has done something amazing by giving me a strong willed, highly independent, curious stinker butt of a son who lets me rest not one moment of his waking hours? Not so much. But I know this child is a blessing, and that what grows out of my struggle to be a good parent to him is something "God is doing for me." (Gee, thanks. *snicker* *sarcasm*) How about interactions with my spouse? Did I say or do something for him today that made him feel loved? made his day brighter or easier? Or did I chose to get easily offended at some thing he said (or didn't say)?  Did I fall prey to some pointless argument or discussion, lambasting or judging or criticizing another? Or did I contribute only helpful, truthful, grace-filled, loving commentary? Did I offer prayer? How about my thoughts? Did I dwell on the negative? Wallow in self pity? Listen to satan's lies? Beat myself up? Did I bask in His glory? Contemplate His goodness? Count my blessings? Offer my thanksgiving? Receive His Mercy and Grace? Accept forgiveness? Offer forgiveness?

So many interactions, so many actions that we don't consider. Every. single. minute. So many opportunities to tune into what God is doing or saying. So many times (like every minute of the day) I need to lean on Him for strength, wisdom and guidance. It's too easy to get caught up in all that I should do, beat myself up for my failings. Instead, I need to remember to continually turn my face to Him. Like a daisy towards the sun.

If my face is turned to him, I will worry less about all the big and small things. He's got them in his care.
If my face is turned to him, change will come, change I long for. My inside out will be made new.
If my face is turned to him, I will change, my family will change, my marriage will change.
If my face is turned to him, maybe others will look to see what I'm looking at.
That would be awesome.

Deep breath.

Look to the Son.

Bask.

Rest.

Surrender.

Dear Lord, Part 2

I just got the mail. This came:

I don't know whether to laugh, cry, or flip you the bird.

You clearly have a sense of humor. Too bad I'm not in the mood to laugh. Especially since I  "won" this but it feels like ill-gotten booty. And, you know, seeing as my butt is wet with someone else's urine. But thanks.

Next time, send spa certificates.

Seriously.

Me.

Dear Lord,

Please send angels quick. I'm about to strangle my son.

Yes, I am writing this letter to you out of extreme frustration. Yes, I realize this seems to be a pattern. But I fully believe that you should completely understand and be most empathetic to my cries for YOU ARE THE ONE WHO MADE THE LITTLE MONSTER.

I realize this may sound harsh, however, you may not think so if you were to tally up all the things this child does, things he gets into, ways he frustrates the freakin' daylights out of me. I can only take so much of major messes, uncontrollable peeing (and occasional pooping) on carpets and furniture (like the peed computer chair I am sitting on and despite the towel I have wadded up that it's still seeping through), the chewed on, broken, stabbed, or dismantled multitude of items that are scattered about. Thankfully he has not thrown any electronic device of real value in the tub. Yet. 

I'm at a loss. I don't know what to do. I can only beat him so much, Time Out's are pretty much a joke, spending more time with him doesn't seem to help, "ignoring bad behavior" is tantamount to just letting him get away with it, and I just can't lock every damned thing up.

So please. Please send angels. Or lightening bolts.

It really is too much. It's just not ok for a mother to not even like her child. And I'm afraid that is happening. So see, you really really need to listen to this plea. Because today, I would be utterly grateful if gypsies carried him off. And if given a chance, I may even have to arrange it.

Seriously.

Me.