hole

Have you ever come across someone, friend, family, lover or even a stranger, who made your heart ache for the yearning inside them? We all have those areas inside us that feel empty, that we chase things to fill them with. Anything from shopping, to food, to sex, drugs and rock and roll, relationships, x rated images, money, power, even exercise. It's not all just "bad" stuff. Reading can be an escape. I mean, who doesn't love to crawl into a good book for a while? I know I do. I have those areas, those weaknesses too. But "things" never make me feel better, at least not in the long run. 

It's hard to see that empty place inside someone else, too. To see them ache or yearn for something, and what they find never really does the trick. My empathy kicks in because I know the pain of my ache, the lengths I have gone to fill a need, and the after affects of not finding the right thing. We all want to feel loved, valuable, worthy, attractive, capable, strong, encouraged, successful, included. Even when we are, we can still feel like we're not, or that it's not enough. To watch that in someone else makes me feel a little helpless. Even I feel lost. Lost in how to help, how to cure, how to make it all better and make the pain go away.

I had such an encounter today, and it kills me that I can't make it all better. Instantly a song came into my head, a song that I think of quite often, actually. I really only know the chorus, but it says it all.

There's a God-shaped hole in all of us

And a restless soul is searching.

There's a God-shaped hole in all of us

And it's a void only He can fill. 

                                        ~ Plumb - God-Shaped Hole

My internal reaction was instant. It was like a dagger to my heart, because my heart aches for their ache, their emptiness. And I feel like I know the answer but how do I get them to see that? To KNOW that, to know Him? I prayed, but sometimes it feels like prayer isn't enough. Probably because we want instant gratification. But I truly truly want this person to know God, to know wholeness, to experience restoration and the healing salve of God in their life. Because I know He brings that, if only we will take it. 

Lord, please hear my cries for this person. Call out to them in a way they cannot mistake. Help them to see and hear and answer your call, your invitation to wholeness. Jesus I ask that you would remove all fear or inhibition that might hold them back, that those would no longer be barriers to coming into a fuller relationship with you. Please let them see that their need, their ache, is of you and you alone. Orchestrate their surroundings and encounters so that they see you and hear your good words. God I ask for your forgiveness for my own lack of faith, my own fear of failure, my own fear that you are not enough. I ask for peace in knowing you are in control, and you have it all in your care. Lord, I know the plans you have for me, for us. Plans to prosper and not harm, to give us a hope and a future. Help us to call on you with all our heart, to pray to you, and that you will listen. You word says, "'You will seek me and find me when you seek me with all your heart. I will be found by you,' declares the Lord, 'and will bring you back from captivity.'" Set the captives free, Lord, set them free. In Jesus name, Amen.

Satan is trying to steal my Joy

I really hate those days when I'm struggling. Feeling overwhelmed with melancholy or something like despair. Days when you feel stuck under a cloud, can't shake it, are powerless to change it, to change anything. The worst part? Sometimes it can hit you in the middle of a really good moment.

My life seems to be full of struggles lately. I'm not normally one to let it define me, because life always has struggles. It's part of life. (Yeah, I'm a realist like that.) But some days (weeks, months, years) seem a little heavier on the struggle part, and a lot harder on the able-to-overcome part. Parenting is really kicking me this last year. Dealing with challenging children is challenging. Thankfully, marriage is not on the list. It's always on the list of thing to work on but we're mostly in a good place, dealing with our conflicts in healthy ways. But the cloud of depression hangs over it all. I've acknowledged it's an issue and sought treatment, but I'm still dealing with working out the treatment, and that's not as smooth as one would like. 

We had our 11th wedding anniversary this weekend. We ended up going to a bar/restaurant for supper, and stayed for a live blues band. The place wasn't very busy so the noise level was minimal and we were really able to enjoy the music, which is something we both enjoy and haven't done in quite a while. But my body was tired, my mind was emotional, and it had the feeling to me that it wasn't that special, that I wasn't that special to him. I felt fat with nothing to wear. Yes, every woman's dilemma and while it sounds so cliche, it says something about her emotional state. That and I really am fat and really do need to buy some clothes for myself. But I think every woman wants to be all he sees when their mate looks around the room, that they only have eyes for us, that we are the most beautiful thing to him.We want to feel that. I don't feel that, but that's not to say it isn't true. That's where satan comes in, sneaky little devil.

I often look at my hubby and have such strong feelings of love and attraction for him. It's a warmth, it has electricity. It's a full body emotion. When we were out, and I was watching his face, his reaction to the band, listening to his thoughts of the music and playing, I had that thought, that feeling of love. And when I caught his eye, I smiled and said, "You're so hot." He smiled a shy smile and made some comical retort. 

It was in that intimate moment, that shared space of love and attraction, that that sneaky little bastard stole my joy. He came in to my mind and with "but why doesn't he ever say that to me?" and the quick response of "because I'm fat / he doesn't think I'm beautiful / he sees how disgusting I've become." It was so swift a shift in thought that I felt stabbed, so sharp it brought me to tears, so cunning I believed it. Good feelings gone.

The cloud of that still lingers with me, more than a day later. My depression is winning. Feelings of being powerless heighten. Melancholy looms. I just want to curl up in a ball in my bed and not come out for days.

I even went up for prayer at church. And while some of it hit the nail RIGHT on the head, some of the things people were saying had satan in my ear arguing against it, not letting me believe it. Not letting truth push out lies.

satan is stupid.

My flesh and heart cry out, to you the living God. Your Spirit's water for my soul. I've tasted and I've seen. Come once again to me.

But Lord, I need you to draw near to me, because I haven't the strength.

Take these hands and lift them up
For I have not the strength to praise you near enough
For I am nothing, I am nothing without you.

All my soul needs
Is all your love
to cover me.

He Speaks Even in Stolen Moments

I don't take a lot of time for quiet, devotions, prayer. It's stolen moments, basically. No in depth studies, no great prayer times filled with the Holy Spirit and great revelation. Five minutes here, a middle of the night/afternoon cry, plea for rescue is what it usually looks like for me. I am so thankful that God doesn't need hours to speak. It can happen in an instant, in stolen moments, while noise and chaos ensues around you (or, as in my case this morning, a 2 year old, same thing).

Being a person who likes direction, I have found the book Jesus Calling to be fantastic. I would say it speaks to my right now about 80% of the time. That's pretty good. Whatever the tool, I'm just glad that God hears and sees me.

The other morning I was stressing about a situation, getting riled up at some nosy person and how their judgment affected me. And I was judging. Judging the past and the yet to come. Judging someone I didn't know, imagining a situation that hadn't happened yet. All with a rather angry, negative attitude. Partially out of fear, (because no one likes feeling judged themselves) and partially out of it's inconvenience to my life. I was also dealing with excruciating pain and a lack of sleep, which helped none. I had gotten up at 4am because of the pain, cleaned my house, did some laundry, took a shower, got the kids off to school, and then had a few moments of peace where I didn't feel the need to get up and work work work (cuz I already had, so I had "earned" my relax time). I sat down with my devotional, and this is what I read:

Come to Me and rest. Give your mind a break from its habitual judging. You form judgments about this situation, that situation, this person, that person, yourself, even the weather - as if judging were your main function in life. But I created you first and foremost to know Me and to live in rich communication with Me. When you become preoccupied with passing judgement, you usurp My role.

The thing is, I hadn't even really realized I was judging, and therefore that I wasn't giving God room to be God.

On a more fun and enjoyable note, we are finally getting to take some time away, to celebrate 10 years of marriage perhaps?, or just to get away and rest, to enjoy each other without being prey to the needs and demands of our beloved children. Before we were married, we'd get up on Saturday morning and say, hm, what do we do today, where should we go. My husband is a "wild hair" sort of guy so you never knew what would strike his fancy. But that feeling of just being able to go wherever and do whatever, unplanned, is sort of romantic and enticing. Freeing. We don't have a lot of money saved for this (bad timing being at the start of the school year), but we have people to tend our children, and a couple days' time. What to do?? We aren't really sure, but we were just gifted a night's stay at a particular hotel, which has given our time some direction, literally. But since we don't know what there is to do in that area, I'm looking, trying to figure it all out. I had originally had in mind a different part of the state entirely, so this has sort of thrown me for a loop. But I consulted with my friend Google and was plotting our moves, at least trying to figure out accommodations for night number two, when I consulted with my spouse who's suggestion just upended the 3 hours of research I had just done. Deep breath. This is supposed to be fun, but suddenly it was becoming stressful. I went to bed. 

This morning after getting the kids out the door to school, I took another stolen moment. 

You will not find My Peace by engaging in excessive planning, attempting to control what will happen to you in the future... When your mind spins with multiple plans, Peace may sometimes seem to be within your grasp; yet it always eludes you... 

I did not design the human mind to figure out the future. That is beyond your capability. I crafted your mind for continual communication with Me. Bring Me all your needs, your hopes and fears. Commit everything into My care. Turn from the path of planning to the path of Peace.

Wow. Ok. I got it. Get my eyes off what I see right in front of me, from judging and worrying and trying to have everything under control, and get my eyes on God. Let HIM take care of the details. He's got my back, apparently.

Thank you, God, for speaking in my stolen moments. Help me to keep my eyes on you, and not buried in worry about all the stuff around me. Lord, I want to receive all the blessings you have in store for us, for me, and I know that your plan is much better than mine. 

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.

Escape

Ever need an attitude adjustment and just can't seem to get there? Feeling stuck in your crappy mood/outlook on life. Even knowing that you're entertaining the devil and just decide to let him have at it, because you're too tired to change anything.

It's a pretty dumb place to be.

It's a pretty sad place to be.

It's a pretty bad place to be.

Is this my lifelong struggle - figuring out how to channel it, to deal with my crappy / pessimistic / negative / complaining self, my anger, my melancholic ways? I hate being the spreader of doom. I don't want to be known as "that girl" who people avoid because she always complains about how hard life is or crappy the day is, how challenging the children are, how ... totally wrapped up in his own mind the husband is.

What.  am  I   d o i n g ?

That's what I think just about every time I have a thought, say a word. I'm just ... so...

unloving.


It's gross.

I was doing bad. Really bad. Then I was doing better. Good even. Steady. Now ... bad again.

So what can I do to reset the game? Will a blueberry muffin cure all my woes? Will a shower and a nap change my outlook on life?

Ha. I wish.

I've started reading a couple new blogs (they're related - literally and figurative, offshoots of another). This was part of a comment:

When the ocean waves are crashing over you, 

quit fighting them and dive deeper.

Is that my answer in there somewhere?

What am I fighting? Who am I fighting? How do I quit fighting? Doesn't quit fighting mean simply 'quit'? I can't quit, can I? (Answer: no. I can't. I'm a mom. You don't quit mom. You don't quit life.)

Am I having a tantrum because I'm not getting my way? Can it be reduced to that? Do I just need to "suck it up? Buck up? Don't I say that, so do I need to follow my own advice? Am I being a brat?

What I wish, most of all, is that I could have a 2-week long Hawaiian vacation, sans kids, and come home to find that some amazing team of home organizers/decorators has come in, cleaned, organized, trimmed my windows, put up curtains and painted my walls.


Escapism. That's what I'm dreaming of. I think I need to go put on my happy music, which is all about escaping.

Orphan Dreams

**Sorry about the wonky text/spacing stuff going on. I don't know what happened. I tried to fix it and made it weirder. It's my bedtime so this is how it'll stay.**

I've had this dream. Twice. Not the same dream exactly, but still the same dream. Same theme, same location, similar series of events. The first time I don't think I told anyone, but I remembered it, which is noteworthy in itself. On Sunday morning, I had the dream for the second time, and told my husband because it was just so off the wall, and weird that I'd had it again.

Haha. "Weird."

In my dream,  people are gathering in my small town next to the fire station. In the parking lot, in the street, next to the grain elevator, in an empty lot. Someone, or some group of people, has brought all these orphaned children from Africa. It is announced, "These children need homes. Who will raise their hand to take one?" And they are handed out. 

(The children/babies may have been set on a trailer or something, I can't exactly recall, but I had this strange thought that is was like the auctioning off of slaves - and in fact my hubby said the same thing when I told him the dream. Not that it was cruel or debasing in any way, just the large group of humans, maybe it was because they were black. I don't know. It's not meant to be a racist element, and I don't honestly know that it has much importance, but it was part of the dream so I am including it here. For records sake, if anything.)

I know there were people who volunteered and took babies, but I was there without my spouse, and taking in a baby is not the kind of decision you would want to leave your spouse out of. So I didn't volunteer. I just went home.

The second time I had the dream, we, the town, knew that the babies were coming, though I'm not sure if they were there yet. I remember thinking that it was just like "last time," because I was remembering my previous dream. People gathered in the same place, and again it was said, "These babies need homes. Need love. Who wants one?" This time, however, I thought, "Well, maybe I could take one and just talk to my husband about it later." And this is where the dream ended.

HAHA. I think that's hilarious that I thought that, "just" take a baby home. I would never do that in real life. But anyway... 

Told my hubs, he made his comments, no weird vibes or expectations. Life just carried on as normal, and I left for church.

When I get to church, the sermon and theme was... get this... Orphan Sunday. I kid. you. not.

Ok, so now is when I'm feeling... weird. Not weirded out, but my ears are a bit perked.

Can I just point out that this is how God is so awesome. Even though I don't really take time to devote to God and study and proper Christian things these days, even though I'm going through whatever spiritual journey I'm on, even though it really sucks sometimes, GOD SPEAKS. And he speaks TO ME. It's also his way of inadvertently letting me know I'm in the right place. And that's a good feeling. At least I'm doing something right, if only to show up for church on Sunday.

Our current sermon series is on Isaiah. It's a big book. And God is talking a LOT to the people of Judah. He wants the people to trust Him, to look to Him, to protect them and to be their hope. They're having a hard time with this. (haha. What a unique problem they were having. :D) They need the security of  "flesh." And He keeps trying to persuade them, convince them, to trust Him. When we don't trust God, our religion becomes self-serving. In that, we sense our lack so we hoard and protect what little we have, and we blame others.

I feel that hoarding. As self-preservation, but hoarding nonetheless. And I'm ashamed by it. I also know that it comes from my lack.

We were meant to draw everything we need from God. (Hmmm... this seems to be a recurring theme for me. Wonder why?) We get what we need from Him by trusting. Trust = Faith.

And when we do this, we looooovvvve. We ooze gooey love. Think of a person newly in love. Like that. It comes from where we know not. Certainly not from ourselves. We give generously out of an endless supply (because He is our supplier - of love, too). We experience rest. Sabbath. Not because life slows down or demands are less, but because we trust in Him to take care of our needs and those that need us, and we just sit at His feet, resting and soaking Him in. 

And how does this relate to orphans, you ask? The answer is in Isaiah 58. While you should read the whole chapter (it's not long), I'll just point out this passage:

 ⁶ “Is not this the kind of fasting I have chosen: 

to loose the chains of injustice 

   and untie the cords of the yoke, 

to set the oppressed free 

   and break every yoke? 

⁷ Is it not to share your food with the hungry 

   and to provide the poor wanderer with shelter— 

when you see the naked, to clothe them, 

   and not to turn away from your own flesh and blood? 

At the end of the sermon, a few people shared about how they serve in our community. Big Brother Big Sister program, Refugee Assistance programs - teaching them about and how to live in our community, Royal Family Kids Camp and foster care. I was on prayer team but since no one had come up asking for prayer, I turned to my co-prayer team member. I told her the bit about the dream and just not understanding what it all means but that there's something here and that God would reveal it.

In praying, one of the things that really stood out for me, in a convicting sense, was the love bit. I'm a compassionate person, I have a heart for the lost, the lonely, the cast-aside, especially children. Growing up I knew I had it good, parent-wise. While it may be an easy thing to overlook or not understand it's value, I did. Even then I knew I was blessed. I didn't take that for granted and I see even more today what an impact family has on who we become. Now I'm a mom, a parent, and it's frickin' hard and I worry daily that I'm screwing my kids up beyond repair, wondering what raving lunatic of a mother they're going to remember. Some days, IIIIIII am not enough. IIIIIIIII do not have enough love. I feel like I run out; that I can't give even one more ounce and thank GOD it's bedtime. And I feel bad, ashamed, that as a mother I could say that. I know I could get hate mail for saying that. People would gasp and guffaw at that statement. I'm not shouting this from the rooftops, that's for sure.  

Recently I wrote a bucket list blog post on All My Monkeys. One of the things I wrote down was be a foster parent. (And that could be loosely defined as simply being a stable parent figure for my kids' friends that may come through the door, as I've already talked about too.)

So how does "an orphan" fit into my life, how could I love anyone else? I am lacking, and I know I need to put my trust and my whole life even more into His hands because HE is Enough. 

And finally, after the day was done and I was "resting" and reading some blogs, I clicked onto one that I don't normally read because it's just too much for me emotionally a lot of the time some times. But Sunday, I clicked. Even though I had heard mention somewhere in bloggyland that she might be on a missions trip, because I hate reading those blogger mission trip accounts of all the needy children and it feels like a big guilt session. My mission field currently is my own family and, as I've stated, that's more than I can handle some days. Not that I want it to stay that way, but that's how it is for now. But not even thinking of the earlier events of the day, I clicked to check in, see how it was going. 

And this story laid. me. out. Big, loud, gulping, snotty sobs. Sobs of sorrowful love, love for someone who  has none. Or very little. It kills me. Even now. Cries of 'it's not fair,' and 'how can this be,' and feelings of guilt that I can muster up just a little more to cry for this kid but not to give my daughter 'goodnight hugs and kisses' some nights.

I just need to remember, HE is Enough.

Lots of little pieces of a puzzle. Two dreams, Orphan Sunday, a bucket list item, a blog post about a boy named Jonathan.

I don't know what it means, what the future holds, but I'm listening.

Squeezing

I'm having a squeezing.

And now that I've figured that out, I'm much better. haha

Confused yet?

I'm in a phase/stage of life where things are challenging. To my core. Not all facets of life, but some key ones, like being a mom, being a human. Just the basics.

I have issues, like every other person out there, and they seem to feel free to rear their ugly little head a LOT these days. Temper, anger, idol worship (aka Facebook). Among others. It's when I see that ugliness, feel that ugliness, I just become disgusted with myself, with my actions, my words, my heart, my sin. I don't want to be this way. I want to be better, healthier, happier, more self-controlled. I want the Fruit of the Spirit to flow out of my every pore, so that God's love would touch all who I come across. Which may sound lofty, or dreamy, but I want to be one of those people who people feel better after having come in contact with. I don't think that's weird.

My problem is, I don't really rely on God. I don't have the kind of (intimate) personal relationship with Him that I want. I still feel that call of Going Deeper, being changed from the Inside Out, and the frustration builds at seeing my icky fleshliness, knowing God can change it, but not actually getting to the point where it is changed. Past tense. Done with. 

I'm still waiting for that to be "old news."

In the meantime, I'm going through the crud, the squeezing. I have likened it to a birthing process, with hopefully something wonderful on the other side of all this anguish. It gives purpose to the pain.

Isaiah 40:27 (NLT) says: How can you say the Lord does not see your troubles?

That's often how we feel when he doesn't take us out of our situation or our pain, but He does see them. He's there, in the mess, with us, even in the trials. He has a purpose for that, too.

I have a quote on my fridge that reads:

Choosing joy is 

acknowledging that while I don't understand what's going on,

God does. 

Choosing joy is 

remembering that while life seems to be spiraling out of control, 

it is never out of God's control. 

Choosing joy is

remaining mindful that while my circumstances may feel anything but ideal, 

God still has my good and His glory in mind.

       - Alece Ronzino, Grit and Glory

So while life may all seem a mess, or pointless, or where is God, He's there in that, too. And that mess is not too big or too bad for Him.

Isaiah 40

v25. “To whom will you compare me?

      Who is my equal?” asks the Holy One.

 v28. Have you never heard?
      Have you never understood?
   The Lord is the everlasting God,
      the Creator of all the earth.
   He never grows weak or weary.
      No one can measure the depths of his understanding.