The Spirit of the sovereign Lord is on me, because the Lord has anointed me to preach good news to the poor. He has sent me to bind up the brokenhearted, to proclaim freedom for the captives and release from darkness for the prisoners . . . Isaiah 61:1 (NIV)
So Mom is in a pretty bad place right now. She's struggling, she's suffering, she's ready to be done with life - at least this life. And it is so hard to watch her go through all of this. My prayers lately have been that God would take her quickly because I hate that she's hurting so much.
Today, as I was pondering these things, I came across the above verse. And I wondered to myself - Mom is brokenhearted, she is held captive by her sickness, she resides in a prison of pain, so what about her - why haven't any of these promises been fulfilled in her life? And I found my faith inclining towards doubt. I don't "see" God binding up my mother's broken heart, freeing her from captivity, or releasing her from darkness.
Why God, why becomes the prayer of my heart. I don't understand this and I just want it to stop - for her, for myself, for my family. But in the midst of all this pain, I remember something that Jesus once said. It's a kind of rallying cry for all of his saints.
In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world. (John 16:33 NIV)
A big promise from a Man who knew struggle and suffering like no one else - who gave up his very life to bring an end to all of our struggles. But not yet . . . and that's the hard part isn't it. Waiting in faith to "see" this promise of captives being freed , prisoners being released, broken hearts being bound up. Yes, it all comes down to faith.
One of my favorite chapters of the Bible that addresses the faith that we must live by for now, the faith that helps us to "see" and believe what seems impossible is found in the book of Hebrews.
All these faithful ones died without receiving what God had promised them, but they saw it all from a distance and welcomed the promises of God. (Hebrews 11:13 NIV)
Our ancestors of faith didn't see the fulfillment of these promises while they walked upon this earth. They struggled. They suffered. They hurt. But, they kept the faith, and today, we are called upon to do the same. Believe in what we can't see, believe that the impossible is possible for our God. Believe that God truly loves us, truly has our best interests at heart - even when it all seems like a fraud.
I like to call it seeing with the "eyes" of faith. The faith that is sure of what it hopes for, certain of what it doesn't see. Life is a struggle, there's no question about it. But in the midst of our struggles let us keep our eyes of faith wide open. And when everything around is obscured by darkness, let us look to the Light of the World and press on to keep the faith.
Monday, October 31, 2011
Wednesday, October 26, 2011
Simplicity
sim·plic·i·ty
noun, plural -ties.
ɪ2. freedom from complexity, intricacy, or division into parts: an organism of great simplicity.
Found a great song that was once one of my favorites called Simple Heart by Geoff Moore. Been thinking about it a lot lately. Namely because, in this complicated world, it's good to remember what really matters.
And life in 2011 is pretty complicated, isn't it? Cell phones, ipads, internet, 24 hour news channels, activities galore, 40+ hour work weeks. Juggling all of it has become quite a challenge. And with the holidays just around the corner, life is about to get even more complicated.
John and I started a small group at our church. It's been a wonderful thing for us to be involved in. As we've tried to gain new members though, we've noticed something. A lot of families are so busy that giving up even two nights a month is too much to ask. People just feel overcommitted, and, when you're feeling that way, it's easy to forget what's really important.
I think Jesus understood the demands of a comlex world. Even in his time there were ways to make life a little bit more complicated then it needed to be. Look at poor Martha. (Luke 10: 38-42). All she wanted to do was serve a great meal to honor and provide for Jesus and his followers. Her heart was in the right place. But while she was working hard, she noticed something. Her sister, Mary, wasn't doing a thing to help. Good old Mary, just sitting at Jesus' feet listening to what he taught. How annoying! How unfair! Well, Martha knew that if anyone could set her sister straight it was going to be Jesus.
Luke 11: 40 . . . Martha was worrying over over the big dinner she was preparing. She came to Jesus and said, "Lord, doesn't it seem unfair to you that my sister just sits here while I do all the work? Tell her to come and help me." (NLT)
Jesus' answer?
vs. 41 My dear Martha, you are so upset over all these details! There is really only one thing worth being concerned about. Mary has discovered it - and I won't take it away from her."
I know I've shared the Mary/Martha story before, but I think its worth repeating especially with the holidays coming on. From finding the perfect gift for everyone, to baking all the Christmas goodies, to mailing out the Christmas cards on time, the month of December can be a cruel taskmaster. It's like trying to stuff eleven months of work into 25 days.
But does it really have to be so complex? In the grand scheme of things, does it really matter if I give Uncle Herman a green tie or a blue one? Do I have to stand in line for hours ensuring that my kids get the latest video game? Do I have to have a four course meal on the most important day of the year.? All of these things are nice, yes. But are they necessary, really necessary?
Here's my encouragement and challenge for the upcoming season. Do some things, your favorite things, but find a way to simplify a bit more. Find a way to let your heart be quiet for awhile. Make time to read the story that all this hub-bub of Christmas is supposed to be about. Find a way to make this holiday season just a little bit less complex, a little more simple.
sim·ple (s
m
p
l) adj. sim·pler, sim·plest
1. Having or composed of only one thing, element, or part.
After all, the most important part of Christmas, the simple part, has nothing to do with meals, presents, parties, or letters. No, the most important part has to do with that tiny baby lying in a manger. He is the "thing, element, part" of the season that will never be taken from us. Mary had discovered it. Maybe it's time we discover it too.
After all, the most important part of Christmas, the simple part, has nothing to do with meals, presents, parties, or letters. No, the most important part has to do with that tiny baby lying in a manger. He is the "thing, element, part" of the season that will never be taken from us. Mary had discovered it. Maybe it's time we discover it too.
Tuesday, October 18, 2011
crazy bunny trails
So mom's settled in her new home. Although it's not what she's used to, she did admit to me one day that she understands now why she had to make the move. But why did she wait so long to move to this place; a place she would have enjoyed so much better when she was healthier. Well, you can chalk it up to one thing - stubborness. And the only reason I can say that is because the stubborn gene lies dormant in my heart as well. It comes out and rears its ugly head now and again, and, when it does, my husband gleefully points out that I'm 'being just as hard headed as the rest of my family.' Boy, I hate it when he's right.
Stubborness does have its bad points I will admit. Holding on tightly, clinging to the way life is now. Resisting the change that might make all the difference in the world - that might, if you let it, actually be a good thing - even a great thing in your life.
I HATE change. My resistance to it is demonstrated in many ways. I always order the same drink when I go to Starbucks - tall caramel machiatto - decaff, with whip cream on top. When I see a seasonal drink like a pumpkin spice latte, I don't even bat an eye. Why mess with a good thing? I shop at the same grocery store every week - weaving the same path in and out of the aisles; vegetables at the front, bread and cereal in the middle, ice cream at the very back. In fact, when the store makes changes, I get a bit miffed. Don't mess with my routine - you might regret it.
My husband is so the opposite of me. Sometimes it frustrates me when he decides to take a shortcut through a neighborhood - a deviation from the same walking trail I follow every day, or when he takes a different route home from church. 'What are you doing?' I ask, 'This isn't the way home?' On more than one occassion, I've had the humbling experience of realizing that life doesn't always have to follow my "normal". Changing things up a bit can be kinda fun, and, sometimes, even necessary.
After my husband began his new job, we started looking at houses that would be closer to his workplace. In fact, we began thinking about building a new home. So, one weekend we met with a realtor to begin the process. He had an estimate all laid out for us, we talked about features we wanted, and discussed the costs involved. We were on the verge of signing a deal. But, for some reason, we decided not to do it that day. After we'd met with the guy, my husband mentioned that he wanted to look at some existing houses.
On the drive over, I made the comment that I wished he would 'stop taking us on all these little bunny trails.' We'd made our decision, right? Why change things up now? Well, I choked on every word when we stepped into the house that was to become ours. We fell in love with it on the spot - both of us. And let me tell you, my husband did not hesitate to point out that following this bunny trail hadn't been such a bad idea.
So sometimes, I guess, change is a good thing. And maybe following those bunny trails every once in awhile is good for me. I do hafta admit that it gets boring ordering the same drink, walking the same trail, shopping at the same store week after week. Sometimes, things gotta get mixed up. So, I'll try a different latte next week. And maybe I'll deviate from my walking trail every few days. I might even dare to go to a new grocery store this week. Who knows, I might find myself enjoying the change of scenery. Darn, bunny trails . . .
Ecc 3:11 [God] has made everything (even change) beautiful in its time.
Stubborness does have its bad points I will admit. Holding on tightly, clinging to the way life is now. Resisting the change that might make all the difference in the world - that might, if you let it, actually be a good thing - even a great thing in your life.
I HATE change. My resistance to it is demonstrated in many ways. I always order the same drink when I go to Starbucks - tall caramel machiatto - decaff, with whip cream on top. When I see a seasonal drink like a pumpkin spice latte, I don't even bat an eye. Why mess with a good thing? I shop at the same grocery store every week - weaving the same path in and out of the aisles; vegetables at the front, bread and cereal in the middle, ice cream at the very back. In fact, when the store makes changes, I get a bit miffed. Don't mess with my routine - you might regret it.
My husband is so the opposite of me. Sometimes it frustrates me when he decides to take a shortcut through a neighborhood - a deviation from the same walking trail I follow every day, or when he takes a different route home from church. 'What are you doing?' I ask, 'This isn't the way home?' On more than one occassion, I've had the humbling experience of realizing that life doesn't always have to follow my "normal". Changing things up a bit can be kinda fun, and, sometimes, even necessary.
After my husband began his new job, we started looking at houses that would be closer to his workplace. In fact, we began thinking about building a new home. So, one weekend we met with a realtor to begin the process. He had an estimate all laid out for us, we talked about features we wanted, and discussed the costs involved. We were on the verge of signing a deal. But, for some reason, we decided not to do it that day. After we'd met with the guy, my husband mentioned that he wanted to look at some existing houses.
On the drive over, I made the comment that I wished he would 'stop taking us on all these little bunny trails.' We'd made our decision, right? Why change things up now? Well, I choked on every word when we stepped into the house that was to become ours. We fell in love with it on the spot - both of us. And let me tell you, my husband did not hesitate to point out that following this bunny trail hadn't been such a bad idea.
So sometimes, I guess, change is a good thing. And maybe following those bunny trails every once in awhile is good for me. I do hafta admit that it gets boring ordering the same drink, walking the same trail, shopping at the same store week after week. Sometimes, things gotta get mixed up. So, I'll try a different latte next week. And maybe I'll deviate from my walking trail every few days. I might even dare to go to a new grocery store this week. Who knows, I might find myself enjoying the change of scenery. Darn, bunny trails . . .
Ecc 3:11 [God] has made everything (even change) beautiful in its time.
Sunday, October 9, 2011
a little bit of crying
Watching my little boy ride his bike without training wheels took me back today. There he was riding down the street, his dad right beside him cheering him on. Seems like just yesterday that child learning to ride without training wheels was me. I still remember my dad running behind me holding me up until I learned to balance on my own. In fact, without my knowledge, he let go as soon as he thought I "had" it. I kept pedaling right along and when I looked back for just a moment he was gone. I was doing it!
Family has been a big focus of my heart lately. As I've shared my mom's kidney is failing and she may decide to forego dialysis. She's tired she tells us - in every true sense of the word. She's been so sick for so long - I think she's ready to be done with all of it. While I hate the fact that we will lose her more quickly, I completely understand her reasoning. This woman has had quite the life - too much of it spent in hospitals, with doctor's poking and prodding her, taking more medications than your average person. She's ready to go home - to her real home - the one where she won't hurt, suffer, feel sick again. And I can't say I blame her.
But that means losing my other parent - the one who in some way's has become my best friend. Up until recently, we talked on the phone nearly every day. Now, she barely has the energy to get out of her pajamas and get herself "ready". I've been thinking lately about how she'll soon be gone, and what will I do then. Who will I call to tell about my day? Who will be there to listen to my joys and struggles as a mom? There to complain to? To celebrate with? To offer words of wisdom and encouragement?
Having my own family does help ease this burden of sadness. I have my little ones to think of, to spend time with, to take care of. They are my family and in so many ways I see the connection to my past in their little faces, mannerisms, looks, ideas. They are my connection to my mom, my dad, grandparents, uncles, aunts cousins. What a miracle that they are their own individual beings, and yet, they have little bits of family etched all over them. They are mirrors into my past - a glimpse of what was and will always be real to me - my family then, and my family now.
It's fun to see my son laugh, and in that laugh see my dad's smile. Or to cuddle with my sick daughter and tell her what my mom used to do to make me feel better. Fun to tell stories to my little ones about the times I got in trouble, or the vacations we took, or the fun we had together as a family. My children love to hear these stories, and I love to tell them - in fact I need to tell them.
My childhood home is on the market. This week I go back to my hometown to help clean the house out and move my mom to an elderly living center. It's hard to say goodbye when I have so many good memories of that house. It's even more difficult to watch my mom say goodbye to the only home she felt was truly her home.
Forgive me for rambling. Today I just needed to write down my feelings without hesitation or reservation. Today, I needed to let my soul do a little bit of crying.
Family has been a big focus of my heart lately. As I've shared my mom's kidney is failing and she may decide to forego dialysis. She's tired she tells us - in every true sense of the word. She's been so sick for so long - I think she's ready to be done with all of it. While I hate the fact that we will lose her more quickly, I completely understand her reasoning. This woman has had quite the life - too much of it spent in hospitals, with doctor's poking and prodding her, taking more medications than your average person. She's ready to go home - to her real home - the one where she won't hurt, suffer, feel sick again. And I can't say I blame her.
But that means losing my other parent - the one who in some way's has become my best friend. Up until recently, we talked on the phone nearly every day. Now, she barely has the energy to get out of her pajamas and get herself "ready". I've been thinking lately about how she'll soon be gone, and what will I do then. Who will I call to tell about my day? Who will be there to listen to my joys and struggles as a mom? There to complain to? To celebrate with? To offer words of wisdom and encouragement?
Having my own family does help ease this burden of sadness. I have my little ones to think of, to spend time with, to take care of. They are my family and in so many ways I see the connection to my past in their little faces, mannerisms, looks, ideas. They are my connection to my mom, my dad, grandparents, uncles, aunts cousins. What a miracle that they are their own individual beings, and yet, they have little bits of family etched all over them. They are mirrors into my past - a glimpse of what was and will always be real to me - my family then, and my family now.
It's fun to see my son laugh, and in that laugh see my dad's smile. Or to cuddle with my sick daughter and tell her what my mom used to do to make me feel better. Fun to tell stories to my little ones about the times I got in trouble, or the vacations we took, or the fun we had together as a family. My children love to hear these stories, and I love to tell them - in fact I need to tell them.
My childhood home is on the market. This week I go back to my hometown to help clean the house out and move my mom to an elderly living center. It's hard to say goodbye when I have so many good memories of that house. It's even more difficult to watch my mom say goodbye to the only home she felt was truly her home.
Forgive me for rambling. Today I just needed to write down my feelings without hesitation or reservation. Today, I needed to let my soul do a little bit of crying.
Tuesday, October 4, 2011
forgiveness is a tough thing to live out
Thinking about my dad today. He died of a massive heart attack over five years ago. When I think back to my childhood and early and late teens - Dad was my hero. I wanted to follow him wherever he went. Whether that was going to the hospital where he worked, or helping him do a special project around the house, or even going out to a field at 5am in the morning to hunt doves. Yes sir, Dad was mighty great in my eyes. I even told him that when I grew up I wanted to be a man like him.
Some of my best memories of Dad are when I would go with him to the hospital on weekends. Dad was a physical therapist, and his office had so many cool "toys". These included crutches and wheelchairs just to name a few. Playing with the equipment wasn't even the best part. No, the best part was watching my dad interact with his patients. He had this way of joking around with them, putting them at ease. He was so personable, so friendly, people couldn't help but like him.
A memory I have that isn't quite as pleasant is the time I went hunting with him. It was dove hunting season and, for some reason, when dad asked me to go, I decided it would be fun. Well, if you can call laying in a field at 5am in the morning, peeing behind trees every 30 minutes, (hey, I had to drink something to stay warm) and watching poor helpless birds fall from the sky then yes, I had fun. But my sensitive side couldn't take the carnage that was happening all around me. I even had this fleeting thought that I should try mouth to beak CPR to resuscitate one of the poor things. Needless to say, I never went hunting with my dad again.
Yes, I have many good memories of my dad. Unfortunately, things changed quickly once I was out of the house. A few years after I graduated from high school, my dad left my mom. He had formed a relationship with another woman. I was heartbroken. How could my dad, my hero, leave my mom like that?
One of the first holidays we "celebrated" after he'd left the house was Easter. It was just my mom and me so the house felt really quiet and empty. Hoping to pass the time, I decided to look through some of our old family photos. Taking time to go through them, sifting through old memories and pictures, was a lot of fun. Until I came to a photo of my family and me. It had been taken my junior year of high school. When I saw the picture, I was overcome with grief and began to cry. Mom came into the room and all I could choke out was "Why did he leave us, Mom? Why did he leave us?" She just held me tightly as we cried together over the loss of our family.
After that, I spent a lot of time stewing over what had happened. I was very bitter towards my dad and I wasn't afraid to tell him exactly what I thought of him and his new "girlfriend". His relationship with this woman ended rather quickly. But the bitterness I felt in my heart lived on. Until one day I realized that what I was struggling with wasn't hurting him as much as it was me. From that point on, I made up my mind to forgive my dad. I even wrote him a letter telling him as much. But the funny thing about forgiveness is that sometimes it takes time til you really mean it. Yes, I had made the conscious effort to let go of my feelings of anger. But, it was a daily battle to forgive in the truest sense of the word. It didn't come all at once.
Once I was married, I found that even though I'd forgiven my dad, I hadn't really worked at choosing to love him. To work on having a relationship that was relatively healthy was difficult for me. There were times when he would talk about a new woman in his life. Whenever that topic came up, I usually left my poor husband holding the phone. My dad would wonder why I wasn't talking, and my husband would have to explain that I'd left the room.
After my dad passed away I did struggle with some regret. I had forgiven him, yes, but I hadn't worked on having a relationship with him. In some ways, I was still really angry with him. When he talked about other women in his life, I just couldn't bear to hear it. Looking back, I know that I had forgiven my dad on some levels. But when it came right down to it, I didn't let that forgiveness guide me back into having a relationship with him.
The thing is, now it's too late. And I guess the biggest reason I'm writing this is to encourage you, any of you, to forgive when you have the chance - before it's too late and you can't reclaim the relationship you once had. One final thought. This comes from a facebook friend, Betty Hansen. She posted some advice her mother once gave her, "The vessel that holds the acid is eaten on worse than the vessel it is poured upon." 'My mother was a very wise woman.' Indeed.
Some of my best memories of Dad are when I would go with him to the hospital on weekends. Dad was a physical therapist, and his office had so many cool "toys". These included crutches and wheelchairs just to name a few. Playing with the equipment wasn't even the best part. No, the best part was watching my dad interact with his patients. He had this way of joking around with them, putting them at ease. He was so personable, so friendly, people couldn't help but like him.
A memory I have that isn't quite as pleasant is the time I went hunting with him. It was dove hunting season and, for some reason, when dad asked me to go, I decided it would be fun. Well, if you can call laying in a field at 5am in the morning, peeing behind trees every 30 minutes, (hey, I had to drink something to stay warm) and watching poor helpless birds fall from the sky then yes, I had fun. But my sensitive side couldn't take the carnage that was happening all around me. I even had this fleeting thought that I should try mouth to beak CPR to resuscitate one of the poor things. Needless to say, I never went hunting with my dad again.
Yes, I have many good memories of my dad. Unfortunately, things changed quickly once I was out of the house. A few years after I graduated from high school, my dad left my mom. He had formed a relationship with another woman. I was heartbroken. How could my dad, my hero, leave my mom like that?
One of the first holidays we "celebrated" after he'd left the house was Easter. It was just my mom and me so the house felt really quiet and empty. Hoping to pass the time, I decided to look through some of our old family photos. Taking time to go through them, sifting through old memories and pictures, was a lot of fun. Until I came to a photo of my family and me. It had been taken my junior year of high school. When I saw the picture, I was overcome with grief and began to cry. Mom came into the room and all I could choke out was "Why did he leave us, Mom? Why did he leave us?" She just held me tightly as we cried together over the loss of our family.
After that, I spent a lot of time stewing over what had happened. I was very bitter towards my dad and I wasn't afraid to tell him exactly what I thought of him and his new "girlfriend". His relationship with this woman ended rather quickly. But the bitterness I felt in my heart lived on. Until one day I realized that what I was struggling with wasn't hurting him as much as it was me. From that point on, I made up my mind to forgive my dad. I even wrote him a letter telling him as much. But the funny thing about forgiveness is that sometimes it takes time til you really mean it. Yes, I had made the conscious effort to let go of my feelings of anger. But, it was a daily battle to forgive in the truest sense of the word. It didn't come all at once.
Once I was married, I found that even though I'd forgiven my dad, I hadn't really worked at choosing to love him. To work on having a relationship that was relatively healthy was difficult for me. There were times when he would talk about a new woman in his life. Whenever that topic came up, I usually left my poor husband holding the phone. My dad would wonder why I wasn't talking, and my husband would have to explain that I'd left the room.
After my dad passed away I did struggle with some regret. I had forgiven him, yes, but I hadn't worked on having a relationship with him. In some ways, I was still really angry with him. When he talked about other women in his life, I just couldn't bear to hear it. Looking back, I know that I had forgiven my dad on some levels. But when it came right down to it, I didn't let that forgiveness guide me back into having a relationship with him.
The thing is, now it's too late. And I guess the biggest reason I'm writing this is to encourage you, any of you, to forgive when you have the chance - before it's too late and you can't reclaim the relationship you once had. One final thought. This comes from a facebook friend, Betty Hansen. She posted some advice her mother once gave her, "The vessel that holds the acid is eaten on worse than the vessel it is poured upon." 'My mother was a very wise woman.' Indeed.
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