a crazy journal

Psalm 90:15 Give us gladness in proportion to our former misery! Replace the evil years with good.

I know my blog entries have slowed down. Now that my kids are on summer break, they are truly my priority. I’m trying to make the most of having them at home, especially since my little girl will be in kindergarten next year. So, for now, expect fewer entries, but look for more to come in the fall.

Moving on

Yesterday, I found a journal in my bedside stand that truly intrigued me. Over the years, I’ve written many journals, but what made this one so interesting was the fact that it was the journal I wrote in before and after I was diagnosed bipolar. Even though I’ve only read a handful of the entries, something about them has caught my attention. 

In the years before I was diagnosed, I had lots of ups and downs--a fact that was made clear even in the few entries I read. Since it’s a good peek into what was going on in my life at the time, I wanted to share a couple of the entries. They were written shortly after I was diagnosed—a time that was completely scary and confusing, a time when I was just beginning to understand the monster that had clung to me for so long—bipolar.

6/16/04

I’ve struggled with anxiety and depression for a long time. I finally understand that maybe it wasn’t my fault, maybe something’s been wrong inside and I just couldn’t fix it. Lord help my mind. Make me whole. Let the doctors put me on the right meds. May my friends not think less of me, but be encouraged by my example. In Jesus’ name.

6/21/04

Oh Lord, hear the cries of my heart. I don’t want to be bipolar. I just want to be normal. I don’t even know what that means. Please guide me. In Jesus’ name. Amen

7/01/04

Why am I so hard on myself? I’m frustrated and depressed right now. Lord, save me. Don’t let me drown in this today. I’m afraid my meds are going to make me, not me. Lord reassure me. I have a big lump in my throat, and mostly, I just don’t understand. Why does life have to be so difficult and frustrating? Help.

Though I don’t miss much about going undiagnosed, one thing I do miss is how much I clung to God and His word at that point in time. I had this sense of urgency that brought me back to scripture time and again. It was like a fountain to my parched soul--the only place I could go to receive hope and renewed faith. 

So, if you struggle with any type of mental illness or disorder this post is for you. I want you to know that God has been faithful to keep all of His promises—each and every one. Don’t give up. There is hope even in the midst of the darkest valley. Remember that. There is hope. Most importantly of all, trust the One who keeps his promises—to replace the evil years with good and give you gladness in proportion to your former misery. He’s done it for me; I hope and pray you will trust Him to do it for you, too.

crazy money

This week I was all set to write about Beatitude Number Two. But I’m going to change plans for a good reason. Money. I don’t know about you, but it is a subject that can consume me. Over the years, my obsessions about money have subsided, but the worry that we won’t have enough can still be a thorn in my flesh. 

This past weekend, I went to the emergency room and then stayed overnight in the hospital. I am fine, which is the good news. The bad news? I’ve started to worry about money again. It has been eight years since I’ve brought home a paycheck. My kids, managing my house, that’s been my job. And though I love it and feel hugely blessed to have been able to do it, I worry. 

Thankfully, we haven’t been in want for anything. Lately though, we’ve had some major expenses and, now this, a visit to the emergency room, a night spent in the hospital. All I can think about is how are we going to be able to pay for everything.

I know I’m preaching to the choir, and that many of you face even more serious financial crises, so I guess this week, I’m writing as much for you as for myself.

You know what I find ironic. In God We Trust. Yup, that one simple caption printed on each and every American Dollar. Here’s why I think it’s ironic. Every time I pull a bill out of my wallet, I read that familiar heading. Does it give me comfort, relief, encouragement? Nope, because deep down inside it’s not God in whom I trust, it’s the money—that simple piece of paper that really has no power to save me. 

In Matthew 6:24 Jesus teaches an important lesson about money. 

No one can serve two masters. Either he will hate the one and love the other, or he will be devoted to the one and despise the other. You cannot serve both God and Money. (NIV) 

Let’s go back to that emergency room visit. As I lay in that hospital bed, I clung to the verse above as well as an obscure little verse in Psalm 50. 

Psalm 50:10 For all the animals of the forest are mine, and I own the cattle on a thousand hills. (NLT)

Seems like a strange verse to cleave to in the midst of the temptation to fret, but here’s why I thought of it. It seems to me that if God owns every animal in the forest and the cattle on a thousand hills, His arm is not too short to save me. 

I pray this strange verse reaches out and gives you the hope it did me. Whatever financial crisis you face; medical bills piling up, a mortgage you can’t afford, debt up to your eyeballs, trust in the One who owns the cattle on a thousand hills. He cares dear ones, He cares. 

And next time you pull out a bill--be it a ten, twenty, hundred, whatever, look at the caption, ‘In God We Trust.’ Then do some soul-searching and figure out what or whom you really do trust in--a simple piece of paper or the Lord of all creation. Because, dear ones, it can't be both.

poor in spirit

Today, I was thinking about how much I want to know and understand God. I know that God is good and fair and just, but what does that mean? In other words, what’s God like? Does he have a favorite food? Does he even eat food? What does he spend most of his time thinking about? And what kind of work is he doing in heaven? I guess I just really want to understand the very nature of God.

Jesus told his disciples that if they knew him, then they knew the Father, because he and the Father are one. In search of satisfying my curiosity about God, I decided to go to the beatitudes. Seems like as good a place as any to find out more about who God is, and, hopefully, learn more about his very heart. 

For the next several weeks, I’m going to meditate on the beatitudes in the hopes of learning more about our amazing God. Without further ado, I give you Beatitude Number One. 

Matthew 5:3 Blessed are the poor in spirit for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. NIV

It’s tempting to think that this verse is about being poor. It is. But not the kind of poor we think of. The poor in spirit are those who realize that they can’t save themselves; those who look to Jesus’ work on the cross and know that it was he who earned their salvation.  

I think the NLT version makes this point even clearer.

Matthew 5:3 God blesses those who realize their need for him, for the Kingdom of Heaven is given to them.

This is Christianity 101. Thinking that you can get into heaven because you’re good enough just won’t cut it. Because, well mostly, we’re not that good, not really. It reminds me of Jesus’ parable about the wedding feast. As the story goes, a guest arrives in his own clothing rather than wearing the wedding clothes that the host has provided. 

Matthew 22:11-12 But when the king came in to see the guests, he noticed a man there who was not wearing wedding clothes. “Friend,” he asked, “how did you get in here without wedding clothes?” The man was speechless.

Maybe this man was speechless because he’d known all along what clothes he needed to wear, but he decided to come to the feast on his own terms. The host had no choice but to throw him out. To us it may seem harsh, but to God it’s the truth. If we try to enter heaven with our “good works” they will never be enough. We will never be enough. 

I have to admit that there have been times that I’ve felt pretty self-righteous. It’s a real temptation to want to get to heaven on my own merit. But in knowing the truth, the truth that sets us free, there’s some relief. A big sigh. A thank goodness I don’t have to be left out of the heavenly wedding feast. I even get a new set of clothes to wear--Christ’s righteousness.  After all, as one who is poor in spirit, the kingdom of heaven belongs to me. And just in case you’re wondering, in Christ, the kingdom of God is yours, too.

a sabbatical of sorts

²sabbatical

noun
3
: a break or change from a normal routine (as of employment)

 

Now that my years of being a stay-at-home mom are coming to an end, I’ve been reflecting on them a bit more. Next year, my baby, my Katie, will be going to kindergarten. I will miss her, but there is a part of me that is very excited as this new chapter in my life begins. But, as I look forward to the future, I’m also glancing back at the past. What’s come across my thoughts most is that these eight years have been a sabbatical of sorts. Now, don’t get me wrong. That doesn’t mean I wasn’t crazy busy and that it wasn’t hard, but it was a different kind of busy, a different kind of hard. A hard that helped shape the way I think about life.

 

We’re all so busy, aren’t we? Life is so helter-skelter these days, like a merry-go-round that never stops. Running here, rushing there. Laundry, shopping crammed into the week-end. Skipping from the soccer game to the baseball field. So. Many.Things. vie for our attention day after day. But being a stay-at-home mom I was able to step back from all of that. It was a gift to be still and silent, set apart from all the craziness that is life.  I gained some perspective. I learned what was important in life and what was “small potatoes.”

 

~Dull women have immaculate homes.

 

I didn’t come up with this quote, though I wish I had. No, my mother-in-law’s neighbor did. An elderly woman gave this to my mom-in-law at a time when it was much needed. It was as if she were looking back on her life and sharing the wisdom she had gained. I have to admit that when I first read these words I was offended. What did that mean; dull women have immaculate homes. I kept my house immaculate. Did that make me dull?

 

But now, I get it. I understand the good sense behind those words. In fact, when I step over piles of toys, or stare at dust inches thick, these words are like balm to my soul.  Through all the stages of life things get messy as babies grow into toddlers, and toddlers grow into preschoolers. Being a stay-at-home mom is anything but dull.

 

In my early years of staying at home, I really struggled. As a teacher, I was used to being on my feet all day. I had purpose oozing out of my pores. I knew my position in life. What my calling was. What I was meant to be.

 

Then, along came Jack, our first, sweet baby. Now, my days were full, but they were full of seemingly insignificant things; diaper changes, bottle feedings, late nights rocking him to sleep. And I have to admit, I was bored. I’d lived my life in the limelight, so to speak. Now, the only one watching me during the day was my dog--who wasn’t very helpful in the conversation realm of things. All of this made me wonder, what was my purpose now?

 

Looking back, however, these days were some of the sweetest of my life. I got to be out of the hustle and bustle that is part of our world these days. Slowing down. Cherishing moments. Savoring the present. Sure, being a stay-at-home mom was no picnic, but there was a great sense of satisfaction in raising two children, and as they got older it just became more fun.

 

Now that I’m moving forward into the future, I feel like I’ve learned to breathe again. I feel rested. I feel rejuvenated. I’m ready to move into the next chapter of my life. My sabbatical, all eight years of it, were such a blessing to me, and I’m so thankful to God for them.

 

I hope that you, too, get to experience a type of sabbatical, even if it’s just a moment of quiet in the midst of a hectic day. The days of having children are too precious to wish away. Enjoy them. Savor them. Because, before you know it, they will be gone.   

revelation reality

Yesterday, I finished a Beth Moore bible study on the book of Revelation. I have to be honest, in the past Revelation has scared the living daylights out of me. When I read all those things about ten horns on beasts and beings that are covered with eyes, it’s well, kind of freaked me out. Even the way Jesus is described seems strange; a sword coming out of his mouth, what’s that all about? Now, I do realize that this book is full of symbols--some we aren’t going to understand on this side of eternity. Nevertheless, I wanted to understand this book better. Mostly because of an intriguing promise made in the very first chapter of the book.

  ¹ The revelation from Jesus Christ, which God gave him to show his servants what must soon take place. He made it known by sending his angel to his servant John, ² who testifies to everything he saw—that is, the word of God and the testimony of Jesus Christ. ³ Blessed is the one who reads aloud the words of this prophecy, and blessed are those who hear it and take to heart what is written in it, because the time is near.

Did you catch that treasure in verse three:  Blessed is the one who reads aloud the words of this prophecy, and blessed are those who hear it and take to heart what is written in it, because the time is near. Who doesn’t want to receive a blessing? So, not knowing what to expect, I took a deep breath and dove right in.

What happened took me by surprise. I found myself enjoying it. Instead of the nightmares, or frustration, or fear I expected, it gave me a gift I hadn’t anticipated; feelings of hope and peace. Hope, because there is an end to this unhappy story and peace because no matter what is happening in the world around me, one day it will all be set right. Jesus is the best and greatest king of all and his stories always have happy endings.

Quite refreshing in a world that seems addicted to darkness. I’m an avid reader, but lately I’ve been quite discouraged. A lot of the literature that’s out there these days have such dark themes. Many of them don’t end happily ever after.

Call me a hopeless romantic, or a sap, or naïve, but I love happy endings. It makes me wonder why it’s so in vogue to have all these stories with darker themes. Is it because we’ve become so jaded that we just don’t believe in happily-ever-afters anymore? And if so, how sad for us.

Personally, in my heart I’ve got to believe that this wasn’t what we were destined for. We weren’t meant to suffer and hurt and cry. We weren’t meant to go to our grave becoming nothing but dust and ashes. We were meant for eternity. Made for it, in fact.

You see, I think God’s a hopeless romantic who loves happily-ever-afters as much as we do. And even after Adam and Eve became his enemies, God had a plan to fix what had been broken--sending Jesus to pay the price to bring us home where we will truly live happily ever after.

^{Revelation 22:1} Then the angel showed me the river of the water of life, as clear as crystal, flowing from the throne of God and of the Lamb ² down the middle of the great street of the city. On each side of the river stood the tree of life, bearing twelve crops of fruit, yielding its fruit every month. And the leaves of the tree are for the healing of the nations. ³ No longer will there be any curse.

simple things

Last week, I got schooled by my husband and, I have to say, it’s the best thing that’s happened to me in a long time. Because my husband is working on his health, he’s often fixing his own meals; including lots of fruits and vegetables and the occasional frozen entrée.  That leaves the rest of us to eat whatever we want. This past weekend, I stopped at the local grocery store because I was craving a steak; a big, old, tender piece of meat. When I got home, I couldn’t wait to fire up the George Foreman. As the scent of the deliciousness filled the air, my salivary glands kicked into high gear. I couldn’t wait to eat.

When the steak was grilled to medium-rare perfection, I took a bite ready to savor every delectable bit. But instead of the lusciousness I was expecting, I got a mouthful of chew. I was so frustrated. I’d paid good money for this steak; how dare it be chewy. The first thing that came out of my mouth was, “Wow. This meat is really tough.” My husband who had just finished his frozen box dinner looked at me in surprise. “When did you become so picky about your food?”

There went my complaining out the window. He was right. When had I become this finicky? Millions of kids all over the world would have gladly traded their hunger pains for my dinner. And, it got me to thinking, what other things do I complain about as being sub-par. In this case, it was my dinner, but I’m pretty sure food isn’t the only thing I grumble about when things aren’t quite up to my standards.

Like the stop light that seems to last for hours.

Or the kid at the drive-thru who gets my order wrong.

Not enough money in our bank account.

Or the fact that my car isn’t the fastest or coolest on the block.

The t-shirt that doesn’t last as long as I think it should.

And, this one really gets to me, my slow computer.

The list could go on and on; I’m barely scratching the surface. What, indeed, has made me so darn picky and so unappreciative?  For me, what it all boils down to is discontent. I have so much, and, yet, I want so much more. So many gifts are given to me every day that, sometimes, I forget my manners – simple thanks to the Giver of all good things. If I sat down and wrote a list of all my daily blessings, there wouldn’t be enough books in the world to contain them.

The air I breathe.

The sun’s majestic rise and fall.

Spring showers.

The abundance of food in my pantry and freezer.

May flowers.

Happy and healthy kids.

A spouse who supports and encourages me to follow my dreams.

I think you get the point. So, this week, a challenge. The moment you begin to gripe or complain about something because it’s not quite what you wanted, remember the simple things. Simple things that we all take for granted. Simple things that come from the bounty of all the Lord blesses us with each and every day.

war·mon·ger

noun \ˈwȯr-ˌməŋ-gər, -ˌmäŋ-\

Definition of WARMONGER

: one who urges or attempts to stir up war

 

 Anyone ever know one of those kids in school who was a warmonger? You know, the kind that was always trying to stir up trouble; kids who liked watching other kids fight. As grown-ups we should see the ridiculousness of pot-stirring, but sometimes I’m not so sure we do.

 

Take, for example, the evening news. I, for one, used to be a news junkie. Faithfully watching the 5:00, 5:30, and 6:00 evening news was like a ritual for me. But the more I watched, the more frustrated I became. Because, it seemed that what was news almost always focused on the negative. After a while, I began to wonder; did they relish stirring up a big old batch of negativity, making everyone who watched feel a little more afraid, insecure, and pessimistic about the world we live in?

 

A prime example for me was 9/11. Remember how nearly every news station replayed the image of that jet crashing into one of the two towers? Over and over again, this haunting vision of destruction and despair was burned into our hearts and minds.  It was enough to make me sick to my stomach.

 

Maybe, we’re partly to blame. After all, it’s human nature to focus on all that went wrong in a day rather than the million little things that went right. Negativity can lock us up in a cage of fear. Maybe that’s why the news-media is so successful; they know how to feed off our fears.

 

My kids and I have talked often about the importance of focusing on the good and not the evil in this world. Thinking good thoughts. Not bad. Still, it’s not easy. Scary thoughts and dreams still have a way of worming their way into my children’s hearts and minds. So, lately my daughter has been praying a simple prayer before bedtime, “God help me to think good thoughts tonight and not bad. Help me to have good dreams and not bad.”

 

After a week or so of listening to my daughter’s prayer, I had a “light bulb moment.” Many of the shows we were letting them watch had so much negativity. Could this be the root of many of their fears? The more I pondered this, the more it seemed to make sense. So, my husband and I agreed to limit what our kids watch. An answer to a five-year-old’s prayer, I think.

 

And maybe the same is true for us. Remember the saying, ‘Garbage in. Garbage out.’ I don’t think that applies just to children. If you find you’re sitting in your own pot of negativity and struggling to get out, turn off the television and pray the simple prayer of a child:

 

‘God help me to think good thoughts and not bad. Help me to have good dreams and not bad.’

 

Pretty wise stuff for a five-year-old.

 

Philippians 4:8    ⁸ Finally, brothers and sisters, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable—if anything is excellent or praiseworthy—think about such things.