Monthly Archives: December 2013

Curve Ball

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Sometimes, you know the other person is wrong. They have HURT YOU, and it’s wrong. You have every right to hurt, they have rubbed salt into an open wound unknowingly or have ripped open a scar. You care for them, want what’s best for them, ache for them. And you are hurting. And so you pray, “Lord, change their heart, open their eyes.” And God whispers into your very core “leave them to Me. Trust Me to take care of them. Let Me work in YOU. ASK Me to work in YOU.” And that is where I find myself tonight. Sometimes, you start out praying for someone who genuinely needs it, unselfishly, but instead of just fixing the other person God addresses your hurt. Instead of saying “yes” and spawning an apology, understanding, compassion, He says “no, beloved. This way. Let it go. I know, you have every right to be hurt. Give Me your rights. Give Me the hurt. Let Me soothe it regardless of what I do with your injurer, just leave them to Me. Forgive, beloved, and let go, and let Me.”  I am not very good at letting go, and God knows this about me. Forgiveness? Sure. But forgetting? Trust? Moving forward? No, those are very hard for me. And so He gives me opportunities to practice, over and over and over again. Often I fail. So we practice some more. And when I fail, He keeps calling to me, gently, Let Me bind up your wounds. But I don’t. So here I am, Lord, struggling to let go, struggling to trust You. Here I am. And here’s my hurt. Help me not to snatch it back this time. Gently pry my fingers open. I want to give this to You. Help me let it go.

Merry Christmas

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We had a very merry Christmas indeed, and I hope you all did as well. This was our family’s best Christmas in many years, because we were able to spend it together. We have received abundant confirmations since the move that we are exactly where we are supposed to be, doing what we are supposed to be doing right now. Although most people would not want to be in our shoes and to the world outside things look pretty bleak, we are truly happy and all of our needs are met. This jobless time has brought our family closer together, and has presented SO many opportunities for God to show us how very big He is and how richly, extravagantly He loves us. We are getting to live Isaiah 61:3, and it is so much more beautiful than any of our own plans. Our future looks bright, but if it should fall, yet will I praise Him with my whole heart.

We made it.

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We survived the move in one piece, as did ALL of our belongings (as far as we know, will let you know for sure when we finish unpacking!) One child and one pet got car sick, but other than that things have actually gone pretty smoothly. The children love our new home and seem to be mostly adjusting well. Little one and I have been sick since we got here, but not deathly ill. Boy child thinks it is SO COOL that our living room has a bed in it.

There has been some crazy family drama, and I’m sure it isn’t over yet. I mean, I knew my family was crazy but we just got blindsided by this one. PSA: Legal documents should not read like a blog post. I wish I was exaggerating. I also wish I could just post the thing for you, but alas, I cannot. And then, when poor little one couldn’t stop throwing up, there were some damning things said, things that still give me chills, that I just cannot fathom as a mother, as a human being.

But I am not blameless here. I admit, I have trouble seeing the log in my own eye here, but I have been praying through it and God has been showing me some of these eye-logs of mine and beginning to slowly ease them out. He’s also really working in me on leaving others’ splinters in His hands.

Husband has found a contract position that may or may not offer benefits starting next month. If they don’t he will only work there until we can find something better.

I am exhausted. I still don’t know how we’re going to make this work, but for the time being it is working. Sort of. It kind of has to, for now. Had a nice outing today and seeing family and friends all this week while we work on getting settled.

When it rains, it pours.

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We pray for blessings, we pray for peace
Comfort for family, protection while we sleep
We pray for healing, for prosperity
We pray for Your mighty hand to ease our suffering
And all the while, You hear each spoken need
Yet love us way too much to give us lesser things

‘Cause what if your blessings come through rain drops
What if Your healing comes through tears
What if a thousand sleepless nights are what it takes to know You’re near
What if trials of this life are Your mercies in disguise

When friends betray us
When darkness seems to win
We know that pain reminds this heart
That this is not,
This is not our home
It’s not our home

‘Cause what if your blessings come through rain drops
What if Your healing comes through tears
What if a thousand sleepless nights are what it takes to know You’re near

What if my greatest disappointments or the aching of this life
Is the revealing of a greater thirst this world can’t satisfy
What if trials of this life
The rain, the storms, the hardest nights
Are your mercies in disguise

Blessings, Laura Story

Moving day is tomorrow. The car won’t start. Mom and I are fighting. A lot. I’ve had a headache for four days, and we’ve had a cold snap here that has made my arthritis more painful than it’s been in several years. Husband had a job interview that may or may not work out, with no other interviews scheduled thus far. And there is not nearly enough chocolate in this house. What great opportunities for God to show Himself.

But today, a Pagan friend asked me to pray for her. Wow, what an incredible and totally unexpected honor! I am truly filled with joy and hope.

And now we wait, we pray, we believe, and we hope.

Essential Fridays Linkup

Food For Thought, Part IV

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The counselor was a petite woman dressed very conservatively, but I remember the color of her shirt really brought out her eyes. She had frizzy hair and wore no make up, but was attractive nonetheless. Every once in a while, you meet a person who you can practically feel love and compassion radiating from, filling the room like exquisite perfume. This woman was like that. She just shone. And she had such concern in her eyes. It was beautiful, and it terrified me, because I knew that there was nothing I could hide from someone like her. The Holy Spirit’s presence is so strong with people like this, if you can manage to lie to them it breaks your heart while you are doing it and the guilt eats away at you. You feel as if you’ve defiled something pure. They are just so filled with love and genuine goodwill towards you, and their sincerity is completely disarming. She asked me a few questions, gently, kindly. I answered honestly, heart pounding and sweating, without making eye contact. We set up the time for our first session.

In the days leading up to our session, my inner monologue changed from very controlled and demanding to one of great fear. I desperately wanted to cancel and just disappear, pretend it never happened. But I knew the memory of the counselor’s overwhelming care for me, a total stranger, would haunt me. And I knew I had to get better or die, but I wasn’t ready to relinquish my perceived world where I was DOING something, making a real difference in something. I was accomplishing something real in my body, and I liked the euphoric feelings I got after a “good” work out, or when I’d pushed my body to the limit and begin to black out. I was addicted to starvation. I didn’t know myself without it, or how I would fill my time. It was what I was best at, and hiding it gave me as much of a high as doing it. And I was terrified of getting fat, being seen, having to participate in society. People were cruel, and I wanted nothing to do with them. People let you down, but my highly structured routines and rules remained a constant for me.

The morning of our session, I woke up in a near-panic attack. I gripped my phone, staring at it, willing myself to call and cancel. But I couldn’t bring myself to do it. I cried. And then, a strange sense of acceptance washed over me. I went through my morning routine with a small remnant of anxiety, wondering when it would change, how many more times I would go through these same motions, and what my mornings would be like after, if I survived. I waited until the last possible moment to walk out of my dorm room, and slowly walked through the cool Autumn air to the health center.

My anxiety increased with each step. I walked in, signed in on the clipboard, and sat down to wait. My heart was pounding. I wanted to leave. And then, out she came with a folder in hand. She smiled, we shook hands and walked back to her office.

She showed me to a very small room. One wall disappeared behind two floor-to-ceiling bookcases, each stuffed with books. Her desk chair, when she pulled it out, sat inches away from the shelves, and my chair was close to her desk, right up against the back wall. Thankfully the room had two large windows (covered with sheer curtains for some privacy) to help keep the space from feeling so claustrophobic. The windows made it kind of cozy.

We spent the first session just getting to know each other. She told me a little bit about herself and her background. I liked her more with each thing she told me, and against my will began to trust, just a sliver. She had some dry questions for me just to get a feel for where I was right then, I’m sure they were partly to determine if she could treat me or if I needed medicinal aid from a psychiatrist, or even hospitalization. She asked about some behaviors and thought patterns, the severity, and the duration. Some of the questions were difficult, but they were really just facts. We didn’t really get into “the hard stuff” that day. I left somewhat relieved, appalled at the things I’d revealed, anxious about the repercussions, yet with a small sense of freedom that the first part was over.

The second session was kind of transitional. We did some clarification and filled in some details based on the results of the first session, but we also started to get into the roots of some of my thought patterns and behaviors. Slowly, my eyes began to open. I learned things about myself and my background that day, shocking things. I left the session in a daze with a lot to process. I walked around in an introspective haze that week, and entered our third session with curiosity. I only felt anxious about what I might learn about myself and my past.

After several sessions, I began to live with a small sense of liberation. I was able to enjoy some small parts of life and truly see and experience them for the first time, or at least the first time in a long time. I gained some tools to deal with some of the thoughts and patterns. Some of the disordered behaviors began to loosen their grip. But then, something went horribly wrong.

Decluttering

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I feel like this is a constant battle in my house. Husband and I were both packrats before we got married and brought a lot of Stuff into our family. Over the years, every time we’ve moved (and we have moved quite a bit) we have shed some of that Stuff and accumulated very little by comparison. This time, with an eviction looming and economic hardship at our door, we are preparing to move from a two bedroom townhome to a one bedroom apartment. With kids and pets. Hopefully it will be a very temporary situation. Our parents have graciously offered to let us store some things at their houses, but neither set has much space to offer. So when we found out what exactly we were facing this time around, we began to declutter with abandon. Husband has finally let go of fifteen year old t-shirts for bands he hasn’t cared anything about in at least five. The kids and I have shed close to half of their toys and books. My wardrobe has shrunk by about a third. We’ve culled DVDs and wedding presents that haven’t seen enough use to keep. There have been things we had copies of for upstairs and downstairs that we’ll only need one of at the new apartment. Some of it has been hard to let go of, but mostly it’s been very freeing. A lot of it I’ve been meaning to take to the thrift shop/animal shelter/women’s shelter for ages, but never got around to it. And the more we get rid of, the more I hate Stuff.

We live in a society of excess, and this is never more apparent to me than when preparing for a move. Each time, I am amazed and disgusted at the things that have been gathering dust since our LAST move (those things never accompany us for a second move). God has slowly, painstakingly molded me from a packrat to a minimalist over the past decade through many moves, and through showing me poverty. He has sent me to barren lands where the people make do with so much less, and seem happier for it in some cases or just cannot comprehend the luxury in which we live. One experience that sticks with me is from a mission trip I went on with my youth group. A girl about my age noticed I was wearing different jeans from the day before. She was enamored with them, wanting to inspect the hems, touch the seams. She gushed about how new they looked. And then she asked me if I had more. I blushed and lied: I said I had seven pairs, but in reality at the time I probably had more than ten. Her eyes opened wide, she called me rich (I’d never thought of myself that way before) and asked where I kept these seven pairs of jeans. So we began to talk about closets and dressers, and how even the poor kids at my school all had two or three pairs of jeans. That week, my world began to change.  My worldview, my normal, shifted. What is your normal? What do you think is normal in terms of possessions for any ordinary person? Do you crave more, or are you constantly fighting for less? What role does Stuff play in your life, and what role do you think it should play?

Now I See.

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And we know that for those who love God all things work together for good, for those who are called according to His purpose. Romans 8:28

A part of God’s plan for our family became clear today. A tragedy struck an old friend last night. Soon, because of the eviction, we will live close by to help ease their suffering. Obviously I’d rather have a better reason than eviction, but I am glad and grateful that we can be there in time to bring some holiday cheer.

to grant to those who mourn in Zion—
to give them a beautiful headdress instead of ashes,
the oil of gladness instead of mourning,
the garment of praise instead of a faint spirit;
that they may be called oaks of righteousness,
the planting of the LORD, that he may be glorified. Isaiah 61:3

TheWeekendBrewButton Essential Fridays Linkup