No time

So I started a new, well, not really a bible study. It's actually called peer counseling, but it's biblically based. The focus is on developing intimacy with God. Who doesn't want/need that, right? (Well, if you don't, you should. You don't know what you're missing, and that's totally the problem.) Problem is, it takes time. And quiet. Things I'm rather lacking in with 5 time-sucking noise makers (that I love with all my heart, but they make life and prayer a challenge).

Relationships take time. And intention. When I meet someone, a new mom-friend to-be for example, I can most certainly envision hanging out while our kids play, enjoying weekly get togethers, spending lots of time together so that we bond, our children (could) bond (if they wanted to), a relationship deepened, our respective homes became a second home to the other – comfortable, entwined lives. I would love to have that kind of friendship where we could laugh and have inside jokes, where I could share my whole heart and not be afraid, to share deeply who I am and the parts that aren’t so pretty but how I’ve changed and grown from that, and have that other person do the same. (There's nothing worse that laying it all out there and then the other person does not reciprocate. ugh)

Problem is, since I left college in the early nineties, it just ain't happenin'. People don’t have time for relationship building. And it's frustrating.

It's not fair to say that I don't have any friends. I do. And they're great friends who have awesome qualities and have enriched my life and blessed me greatly. Greatly. I feel honored and humbled, frequently.

But I kinda want more. And I feel bad for saying that, for wanting that. (And no, my hubby is not that person. He never wants to talk about feelings. He's such a man. Go figure.) But it’s intimacy that I want, and intimacy that I’m lacking.

I have gotten mad at God for seemingly abandoning me, not addressing my need for relationship and leaving me feeling cold and lonely. I (re)dated the wrong man as a sort of rebellious statement (and also because I was very lonely) when no friends were to be had and even my brothers didn't want to hang out with me. I have wondered what is wrong with me. I have wondered what is wrong with everyone else.

By some miracle, I actually met someone who was probably as desperate as I was and got married, had kids, etc. But I still don't have the relationship I'm needing, wanting. And as a mom, it's especially hard. Hard to have an uninterrupted conversation, hard to have time to get away, hard to work around school pick-up and nap schedules. It’s hard to find time around laundry and supper duties to carve out time to develop relationship. Even with our spouse. Maybe other people don’t want it as much as I seem to. Or are scared to step out in vulnerability. I dunno. But over the past 18 years, once or twice it has popped into my head that maybe God is keeping friend relationships like that from me as a way of sort of giving me the chance to seek that out with him.

I just can’t seem to get over the lack of his flesh, on that, though.

And this is a problem. His lack of flesh. I mean, sure, God can come on spa retreats with me (bwaahaha, me on a spa retreat. But since I’m dreaming and hoping, let’s just go with it) but it would probably draw odd looks and phone calls to the funny farm if I had a laughing fit or a really deep conversation with God, and people could only hear me.

But I still want, need, long for intimacy. And I’m figuring out that the hurt places in my heart could do with a little God intimacy. I feel like I’m in a season of God calling me, wanting more, as I want more, yearn for intimacy in Christ. But I just. Can’t. Seem. To. Get. there. And I hate that.

I don’t have time.

There’s no quiet (except after 9 pm, in which I’m exhausted and want to numb my mind on stupid things like Hulu and FB).

And even when I have that time carved out, in church, at bible study, I feel like I just can’t. I can’t because there’s not time for that. Children are asking questions about why mommy is crying, or can I have another cookie, or when are we going home. There’s not enough time to really lay all my guts out and at the feet of Jesus because we only have X amount of minutes and I need to not monopolize it all, and even then I don’t want to be a blubbering, red-faced, googley-eyed idiot when I pick up the kids at the babysitter’s (who will look at me like I’m some lunatic – which I am but let’s not give the freaks in this town any more fodder for that rumor). There’s just no time. Ands even if there is, I don’t seize the opportunity, because I take that opportunity to do something like blog or FB or do dishes in silence.

And what I really need to do is just say to HELL with all of it and just lay at the frickin feet of Jesus and bawl my ever lovin’ head off and who gives a crap about what time it is or who’s watching or what my kids are doing because maybe someone can just do me the favor of taking care of all that so I can have a moment or thirty. Cuz girlfriend’s got some crap she just needs to lay down.

A few weeks ago, a visiting pastor told a tale of how he went on a missions trip to Mexico and had great notions of having this daily quiet time. Instead, the church next door had nightly services that were rather spirited (and loud) until late into the night, and right about the time he fell asleep the roosters would start crowing. As it turned out, there was no quiet time to be had, that week. He explained that at the end of the week he was so absolutely exhausted. And boy could I relate to that. He was trying to explain about how we need to have that alone time with God, but that sometime there are interruptions. It was when he said that we can’t always control when the baby cries, that there is often not much silence for mothers of small children and we just can’t get there to that quiet time with God, that the tears started rolling down my face. (And to think that about 5 minutes prior to this I thought the guy was boring and had nothing of interest for me in this message. HA! HA!) I swear he was speaking right to me, reading my mail. But then he said this… God has grace for that.

What a relief. Like a blanket of mercy and grace that washed over me. Hope is not lost. I am not lost. Hallelujah!

But how long does this grace and mercy last? Days? Weeks? Years? How about decades? I know you can’t see the forest for the trees sometimes, and this too shall pass and all that crap, but seriously. Is there a cap on how much time I have to seek and find and build intimacy in Him?

I feel frantic. Desperate. And yet tired. Burnt out. Done. Spiritually speaking, but that also runs into the physical/emotional side of life, too.

"Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light." ~Matt 11:28-30

“but those who hope in the LORD will renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles; they will run and not grow weary, they will walk and not be faint.” ~Isaiah 40:31

This seems so easy and so impossible. Lord, help me to get there. I need you. I feel like a failure, and yet I know I'm sabotaging myself. I want you. I want to know you. I want to have that kind of relationship where it's hard to tell where you end and I begin. Thank you for your grace. Please don't give up on me.

Sin

**Wow. Ok, just saw this post that I started and them FAILED to post. Ugh. Hate that. So Now I'm finishing it and posting it. Yay for me. Or whatever. Originally intended post date 3/29, actual post date 5/19. Oops.

So, sin.

It's gross.

That is all.

Thank you for reading.

JUST KIDDING!

 haha. You know I have more to say about it than that.

"Sin is

supplementing ourselves

with what we believe God is deficient in giving us." ~Brenda Gatlin (I think)

gasp. ugh.

Doesn't that make you recoil a little bit?

What do you "supplement" with, instead of going to God?

I have a long, long list, sadly. Food and Facebook being at the top. And it seems that I never actually end up making it to Him. sigh. I feel a lot of guilt and shame for this. I make excuses. I get frustrated at my very real challenges to this. I don't have time, I'm constantly interrupted. And I allow myself to be and stay that way. Blech. But thinking about it this way, that I don't believe God is sufficient. Man. That kinda makes me stop dead in my tracks.

I want Him.

So why do I chose everything else? Answer's not good, I'm afraid. I think, ultimately, in this way, I don't really trust him to be there. Yep. Pretty suck-o.

Takes all the fun out of spending hours on Facebook or multitasking FB and eating 12 cookies while on Facebook. Cuz now you know you should be spending it with him. And not eating 12 cookies.... guilt.

So, what are YOU supplementing yourself with? How (do you think) is God deficient for you?

New thing

I want to be new.

Desperately.

"You have to really want it; it's hard work. Are you desperate enough?"

Well, I feel pretty frickin' desperate. I'm tired of being ugly, of spewing ugly. I want change. Inside out.

God, please please change me. This is getting ugly. Please. I don't want ugly.

I. am. Desperate.

     ************************

I'm starting a new "bible study" which is more of a peer counseling thing. I could write a long post on all of it but I don't have time and really I want to focus on moving forward not looking backward so in a nutshell, here it is.

There's this thing that goes around the bloggy world about picking your word for the year. And while I'm not usually into such things, I feel God picking them for me. Last year, I felt him say "parenting." Which is not at all like other people's words, but that's what I got. I knew what He meant and I believe that there was definitely work done there, and just in telling me the word, it prepared me to be prepared. Sort of like a warning. Unfortunately, I got schooled in areas I didn't expect, but that's a story for another day. Anyway.

Since late fall I have felt an itching to do something different. I have been going to Women's Group (for lack of a catchier name) weekly for the last 2 1/2 years. And it's been good. It's had its purpose. But I began to feel called to do more, go deeper, do something different. I want that. I want more of God. I want to immerse myself more in relationship with him so that it IS more of a relationship. I want that intimacy that comes with knowing someone well. And frankly, I have felt like a bad Christian because it doesn't even occur to me to "go to God." He's not even on the top 10 of people I'd call to chat about such and such. How sad.

I feel him calling me, and so I searched out ways to get there, other bible studies. NOTHING looks like what I'm looking for. So I talk to my pastor. She mentions "this", and we're off. Onto finding wholeness and intimacy in God. I know it's going to be good. But if you've ever had anything waxed, you know that anticipation of them ripping off the strip? Or the band aid? Yeah, that "oh shit this is gonna hurt and maybe we can just leave it on there" kind of feeling. The I'm not sure if I really want to look at all my sins and please dear God in Heaven DO NOT  make me REVEAL my real ugly shameful ones. I'm SO NOT READY FOR THAT AND PLEASE DON'T MAKE ME DO IT. Yeah. Have that BIG TIME. So I haven't really been delving in. Out of fear. Which is strange for me.

But then, then I heard (on the audio session) "Are you desperate enough?"

Hm.

I'm sure not acting like it even though I feel like it.

So here goes.  To Desperation. Cheers! *ching ching*

Oh, and my new "word" is Inside Out. As in, I want God to change me, and He is gonna do it from the inside out.

Bring it on, Lord. (gently, please. or not. just do it. please. sigh)

I'm gonna need a lot of Kleenex for this.

Love: It's a challenging thing

Alternately titled "Life as a duck."

I'm mad at my spouse right now. He probably had the right to be mad at me, frustrated with me. And admittedly I have some sort of guilt at disappointing him, guilt because he was kind of right. It was his timing and words that hurt my feelings. And I'm holding a grudge. Though I know I shouldn't. But I am. In my grudge-holding, though, never never never never do I think he stops loving me nor do I stop loving him. I love him by choice, but also, I don't choose to love him; God just put it in me to do so. I can't help it. I do. Through the worst things imaginable, I would, do, still love him. Not that it's not challenging to want to strangle the bugeezus out of him sometimes, but it's still unwavering.

Though my children have not challenged me too much, it is also that way with them. They are an extension of me. They came from my flesh which binds them to me in a way only your own children can. He made me to love them. While it may challenge me to "like" them or want to be around them for an hour or two (you know, when they try your very last nerve, ruin your favorite treasure from a time full of memories unrelivable, break your favorite most valuable - or not - piece of china, cover the living room in flour, that kind of thing), of coarse I love them.

It's not always that way with others. You know - friends, family, that annoying/ever-needy lady at church. With others I occasionally, and especially recently, find myself very very challenged. When I know I should love. When they are lovable people having unlovable days.

These are the times when I struggle to be a mature adult. To apply the knowledge that I should forgive any transgressions against me, I should rise above whatever unlovableness there is and just love with grace. Grace that God gives to me. Love that Christ has for us all.

But I just.... can't. Not "can't." Maybe, "can't right now", or "don't feel like it right now." "Don't know how right now." Do you know what I mean?

I am being challenged. To learn. To grow. To love.

I want to love her. But she keeps making me mad, even in her absence. It's astounding. A continual smack in the face.

I am angry. Overwhelmed. Offended. Hurt. Tired. Taken advantage of. Unappreciated. Lied to. (That one probably gets me the most.)

I can't see her heart, hear how her mind works. All I see is gluttony, self-centeredness, selfishness.

Up pops my own immature desire to tell her off. Make her pay. Punish.

After this summer of conflict, and contemplation of what makes an adult vs. child, I "have decided" (in all my supreme wisdom, haha) that “you” have become an (mature) adult when you have those feelings and yet know it's better not to voice them, or to act on them. You suck it up. Bite your tongue. Let it go. You discover which battles to fight, and which ones you don't take the bait on. You have the foresight enough to realize it's not about you, it's "just a phase", to remain calm.

I'm still working on that.

Right now, I'm still in the phase of wanting to tell a certain person off, my version of the story, which is the real version of the story (you see how mature that is), because I'm mad and hurt and shouldn't she know just what I have to say on the matter. Because *I* have something to say.

Mostly, I need to remember that just because it walks like a duck and talks like a duck, looks like a duck and eats like a duck, does not an adult a duck it make. I, however, am a duck. And so I need to fluff my feathers, stick my head in the water, and swim to my side of the pond where the waters are calm. And stay there, quietly, til my quacker can quack like the duck it is. With love and grace and forgiving words. Words that build and encourage. That speak truth in love, not as a hammer used to hit someone over the head.

Ephesians 5:21 says, Fathers, do not embitter your children, or they will become discouraged.

I need to not be embittered myself.

Love is patient,
Love is kind.
It does not envy,
It does not boast,
It is not proud.
It is not rude,
It is not self-seeking,
It is not easily angered,
It keeps no record of wrongs.
Love does not delight in evil
   but rejoices with the truth.
It always protects,
Always trusts,
Always hopes,
Always perseveres.
Love never fails.
   1 Corinthians 13: 4-8

A challenge.

Fear? No, couldn't be.

I am not, for the most part, a fearful or worrisome person. It is not something I would use to describe my character. My mother? Yes. Me, not so much. But I have this pain memory that, when situations repeat themselves, or seem to, then I fear. The it'll-never-happen-to-me-oops-now-it-did-so-now-it-can-happen-again fear.

Last summer, I miscarried. Sad, yes. I don't think it ruined my life, or dramatically/traumatically affected me. Life happens, and miscarriage is sometimes a part of life. I recovered, not overly mournful, (overly hormonal definitely) but life went on. And I was not "greatly" affected. At least, I didn't think so.

But then, I got pregnant again.

Last time, in what would have been my fifth child, I was elated. I thought it was hilarious. I was amused by what was clearly God's desire for us to have more children. I mean, really, how can one not think that, when that birth control's odds against pregnancy are 99.8%? It was a blessing, a gift, a "word from the Lord," if you will. A pretty clear one, in my thinking, and seemingly in the thinking of everyone else.

When I got pregnant again (and though it was not "planned" per se, it was not really ever a question of "if", for me, I pretty much knew I wanted to have another baby, thought I was "directed" to have another baby) I was not only fearful of a repeat occurance of miscarriage, I was fearful of what others would say. You know the whole, wow 5 (or six rather, since my husband has a daughter who is essentially mine too) is a big family, and worries by family of how I was going to manage sanity-wise, financially, stress-wise, etc. Why the sudden change of perspective from me or anyone else? If last time it was a clear blessing, why would this time be considered "losing my noodles" or "irresponsible"? Why would it be any different, in that respect?

I got my first ultrasound (in office) that showed a good heartbeat, at 8 weeks. Phew. Bececause last time I heard no heartbeat, ever. So we told our family. Some of whom responded less than enthusiastically. Because they worry about me, they say. But I was putting on a smiley face, so why your gloom? I'll manage. At 12 weeks, another ultrasound showed again a strong heartbeat. We were now passed the time when most miscarriages occur. But I indirectly, or subconciously, or something decided not to make any sort of public announcement. It wasn't a secret. Just not telling the world. At my 16 week appointment, I again heard a good heartbeat. 160 bpm. That same week, my "other" daughter also came for her summer visit, and we finally told her the news (rather than share it on Blogger or something). So now I was "free" to tell the world. But still, I was reluctant to share the news. Why? This is not me.

And I realized, I'm fearful. Fearful of criticism, yes, but also fearful of losing a baby. Again.

It's weird to realize something like that. Something that is a bit out of your own character. (like when I realized how selfish I am. WHAT!! Who, me?

Even more strange is to realize it's not just a fear of unexplained miscarriage, but the fear that the one ibuprofen you took, or the nights spent sleeping on a heating pad to get some relief so that sleep will come, fear that I might be in a carcrash - all those things could hurt, deform or kill this life growing inside me. And what that could do to me.

Fear - You are so unrecognizable to me. And so weird. I don't like you. Go away.

Spring

When the problems before you seem to loom larger than the Power behind you, the purpose in living falls right out from underneath of you.

       - Ann Voskamp @  a holy experience

Well, I couldn't have said it better myself.

I am seeing the sun rise, the crack in my shell grow larger, the trees bud, the grass green. I am rising out of the muck. Slowly. Surely. I'm not sure how, just that I am.

So was (and sometimes is) that my problem, that I lose focus on the Power behind me, and instead on the problems before me? They (still) sometimes seemed so large, so looming, so overwhelming. And I, incapable, unmotivated.

I will never have it all right, all done, tasks completed, messes cleaned, bills all paid, laundry all put away, parenting figured out. Because we keep on living. And messing. And learning. And changing.

My purpose for living never disappeared (though my thoughts on purpose for cleaning may have, lol), I always got out of bed, fed the kids/fed/dressed/vacuumed, but it was the love, the desire, the joy that was missing. Each new day brings new hope. These days, I seem to have more Spring in my step, more umph in my get up. Has winter ended? I hope so. At least for now. I need the break.

3am

Sometimes I just don't have time to write all my reflective thoughts down.

(Pardon me while I step out to laugh... all my reflective thoughts... haha... snort)

Ok. All kidding aside.

Naturally, for Christians, those who profess Jesus Christ as their Savior, the one who died for their forgiveness of sins, their salvation, this is a good time for reflection. I didn't take the last 40 days like many do to spend thinking, fasting, praying about His sacrifice. I didn't give up cookies, or caffeine, or tv. While I probably need to give up sweets and the like, I don't necessarily feel like I cheated myself, or God, of my time or devotion. Not that it wouldn't be fruitful for me to do that "sacrifice", but I do it in some way, all year long.

A song in church, a scripture, witnessing undeserved forgiveness from one person to another, the gente touch on the shoulder of a hurting soul, the dawn of a new day, the sweet love of my children lavished on a selfish, crabby mother; all these things make me think about Him. And weep. And today, right now, I weep. Not because of sadness, but from being overwhelmed with His Love, what He did for me, and how I'm not worthy, but He did it anyway. The mercy, grace, forgiveness, love, redemption all bestowed upon me. How can one truly grasp all that? How can you not grasp at it?

Songs like this... cause me to weep  e v e r y  time. They crack open my crappy, broken, hardheaded heart, as they reveal to me something awesome.

I don't claim to be perfect. I don't claim to know it all. I don't think I'm better than someone else for any reason I can think of. Saying you're a Christian is sometimes like pulling out a loaded gun - people get freaked and run away, because they have experienced the bullets of some other "christian". For that I'm sorry. I have plenty of "intellectual" friends, friends who scoff at my beliefs (probably behind my back), friends who don't "get it", friends who don't want to or could care less. (And I stand less boldly than I should for fear of their bullets.)

To those people, I just want to say, He's so much more than what you know. You may think it's a bunch of crap, and what you've experienced probaby is. But HE is not that. He lifts my face when I cannot. He forgives me when I am less than kind to someone who probably "deserved" it. He loves that person (me) who doesn't deserve it. And though I haven't experienced this much yet, He wants to be my friend, your friend, the one you share thoughts and dreams and struggles and joys with. He wants to hold my hand when I sit scared in the dentist chair, when I talk to my kids about _____, when I argue with my husband. He's not pushy, he nudges. He whispers, and maybe he shouts, but I only have heard or seen the "quiet shouts." To be cliche, He really is the potter, and I the clay, in that he takes is hands and smoothes out the pot, filling cracks and shoring up uneven spots, so gently you can't help but bend to his touch.

I read a book all day today. Total waste of time so now I'm up at nearly 3 am waiting for laundry. But I read this...

"Whenever I read a story... where the author has bravely chosen to create characters who are products of their culture and flawed by their natures, I think of the people Jesus chose to associate with... He sought out the broken people. Why, he accepted a tearful tribute from a prostiture and invited himself into the home of a tax collector, a profligate who stole from his own people and flaunted his weath. Jesus even ate in the company of lepers... and the woman at the well, a Samaritan, a term used by the Jews as a curse word... I've often wondered what that woman was like. After all, Jesus chose to walk through hostile territory to meet with her, and she'd rid herself of five husbands... But Jesus met her there (at the well, in the heat of the day), weary from meeting the needs of hungry and hurting people, and he must have been terribly thirsty... What I find so compelling about the story of the Samaritan woman is the grace Jesus extends to her when she speaks the truth. She admits her failings to him, a rabbi who had no business talking to any woman in public, let alone a hussy who lived with a man who was not her husband. He could have ordered her stoned for her sins, but Jesus didn't even gasp. He didn't give her a book to read or ask her to explain her past. No, he opened a door considered closed to the Samaritans - forgiveness - and she ran through it without a second thought. No other story in the Bible speaks more eloquently of Jesus' humility and grace." --The Queen of Sleepy Eye, Patti Hill.

Yeah. I was a hussy who did things you might gasp at, someone who stole things that weren't mine, who chased after selfish ambitions. In fact, I think I still do those things sometimes (well, maybe more figuratively as I don't steal on purpose, and I'm a faithfully married woman now, lol). I'm a work in progress, who loves an awesome God, and that's all he really wants of me.

I am my beloved's and he is mine.

If you are a friend who has felt the sting of Christians but want to know about Christ and what all the fuss is, please talk to me. I'm not out to "convert" you, I just want you to know about something that makes my life a little more manageable, gives me hope, takes the sting out, and makes me feel worthy when I'm not. Because I'd love for you to find life a little more manageable, have more hope, take the sting out of your ___, and make you feel loved and worthy.

Because you're worth it.