Sometimes life goes wrong, really, really, wrong. Not the kind where you can call a friend and say, “can you pick up my children? I have a situation here….” But the kind of wrong that leaves you locked in your bathroom sitting on the floor sobbing. The kind of wrong where you find yourself telling your children, “No, Mummy is fine. Yes, go and watch the television for a while. If you are hungry there is sugar cereal, I just need to be left alone for 10 minutes.” Thirty minutes later, you are still on the floor, you can’t hear the children and you could care less. You still cannot get off the floor to leave the bathroom. What are you supposed to do then?
Sometimes it is the sudden nature of the crisis; its intensity is so overwhelming that we are left unable to respond. In an instant, everything we knew has been replaced by uncertainty and we are left unsure if we possess the resources to cope. Everything we know about God is put to the test. It is a horrid place to be. If you have spent some time on the bathroom floor lately, I have good news for you. God knows where you are and is interceding on your behalf.
When my life got tipped sideways, a year ago now, I had some strong responses. At the outset of my families’ crisis, I spent a lot of time vomiting. Call it a skill if you like, but I am blessed with an ability to vomit, anytime of day or night, regardless of where I am. Not the most helpful response to extreme stress, but I felt at least I was contributing. When that had passed, I spend a great deal of time being utterly astonished. How did we get here? What did I do wrong? Where was God? I had a list of unanswered questions and as I spent time with them I came to my third strong response, I got angry.
I wish, with all my heart, that I could write this piece because I have done a brilliant job in this last year of keeping anger, despair and dismay out of my walk with Jesus. Then I could write, with deep insight, a top ten list of things to do when the unexpected hits. You would think I was very clever and intensely spiritual to come up with such profound insights. Sadly, I do not have such a list. I am sorry about that, truly I am. I do however, have list of things I have done very badly.
In fact, my mistakes have been quite stellar. Not just the things I have done wrong, but the sheer amount of time I spent doing things the wrong way. I have displayed to myself and my husband a demented type of tenacity which at times has left us both speechless with admiration. My take away is that I have the tendency to be a bit intense. My husband won’t share his take away points with me on the matter. I view that as wisdom.
So then, my dear friend let me say first that I am so sorry you are hurting. I understand that the storm clouds have gathered and that you are frightened. Everyone who follows the Lord finds themselves in this place sooner or later; rest assured you are in good company. Through the ages, God has proven Himself a faithful shepherd. He alone is able to walk you through this storm and will bring you to the other side. Could I share with you a few things that might be helpful? They will not take away your pain but they might help you to remember that Your God is for you, and that can make all the difference in the world.
Dear friends, do not be surprised at the fiery ordeal that has come on you to test you, as though something strange were happening to you. But rejoice inasmuch as you participate in the sufferings of Christ, so that you may be overjoyed when his glory is revealed. 1 Peter 4:12-13
Decide at the beginning of the crisis, that God is on your side and intends to walk you through this difficult season. I wasted a great deal of time here. When hardship came, I was so surprised by it that I lost all momentum. I am afraid to say that I indulged myself in this area. Instead of turning to scripture, I got angry and slipped into a victim mentality. The change was subtle. I felt that God was doing “this” to me as opposed to believing that He had allowed it to come my way in order to teach me to withstand trials. I just couldn’t seem to get over it. I’m not sure exactly what I did with all the bible stories I learned as a child. The victory stories of Joseph, David, the prophets, the disciples, all seemed to suddenly disappear. It took me 8 months of struggle before I actually believed that God might have a plan and would walk me out of my desert.
There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under heaven. Ecclesiastes 3:1
Know the season you are in and remind yourself of it daily. Breaking and blessing, the desert times, the wilderness, the bible is full of stories of followers who walked through trials. Everything comes in seasons, nothing lasts forever. Where you are now, is not where you will be in 3 months, even if the circumstances don’t change your heart attitude will have shifted. One of the biggest lies from the enemy is that we will never get out of the trial in which we now find ourselves. This simply is not true. God‘s unfailing love is eternal, not your current trial. This season will pass. When I was at my lowest, I asked three friends to remind me of that fact constantly. For the record, they rarely remembered to do that, so I would send then emails telling them when I needed encouragement.
Let the word of Christ richly dwell within you, with all wisdom teaching and admonishing one another with psalms and hymns and spiritual songs, singing with thankfulness in your hearts to God. Colossians 3:16
Memorize old hymns and sing or recite them every morning. I do not want to get into a discussion about worship in the church today. Okay, that is a lie. I do want to do that, but not right now, let’s wait until you are feeling better. There is a reason why classic hymns have lasted for generations. The theology is sound and they remind us that our battle is spiritual and that Jesus alone holds the victory. Songs that focus on your love of God will not help when disappointment hits. I cannot express how isolated I felt during corporate worship. I was in the midst of a congregation that spent a lot of time telling God how much they loved Him. I was a misfit with a serious problem, my faith was shattered and I didn’t feel like I loved God at all. In fact, had Jesus shown up at the service, I would have fallen at His feet for the sole purpose of biting his toe. I was angry, hurt and confused. That I couldn’t enter into corporate worship made matters much worse. If you are feeling this way, take to singing “A Mighty Fortress is Our God” in the shower every morning. See if that doesn’t help.
‘Do not fear, for I am with you; do not anxiously look about you, for I am your God. I will strengthen you, surely I will help you, surely I will uphold you with My righteous right hand.’ Isaiah 41:10
One of the tricks of managing a crisis is the ability to deal with the overwhelming sense of panic. Accepting the crisis is necessary; trying to avoid pain, discomfort and suffering takes up a great deal of time and energy. If you are in a crisis, chances are strong you are going to walk through some very unpleasant experiences you would rather avoid. Knowing that Jesus will give you the strength to deal with each problem in the moment, will become a reality as you start to name the problem you are facing and thanking Him as He brings about ordinary answers to each problem. How many times do we wake up with a list of little problems that need to be resolved? Often, God sends answers and help in such ordinary ways; we fail to see His guiding hand. Training ourselves to recognize His presence will pay dividends when we are waiting for deliverance from our circumstances. Ask God for a grateful heart and practice the discipline of thankfulness.
Trust in the Lord with all your heart, and do not lean on your own understanding. In all your ways acknowledge Him, and He will make your paths straight. Prov. 3:5-6
Remember I said that I spent a lot of time doing things wrong? This was an area where I wasn’t content to be alone; it seemed I had a crazy need to drag my husband along. My husband, in order to stop his wife from wasting precious time, coined a phrase “We are in endurance part, not the understanding part.” Not the most eloquent phrase but it certainly has been helpful. Patience is not a virtue that I possess, not even a little bit. The devotional, “Streams in the Desert, by Mrs. Cowman” talks about vexing oneself to despair. I have done a great deal of that. When faced with the ancient mysteries of providence and suffering, the best I could come up with was to get bent out of shape over the fact that I didn’t understand what God was doing. Imagine getting upset because the Creator of quantum physics decided not to consult before working out part of my eternal good. A word to the wise: save serious time, don’t do this, work on scripture memorization instead.
Jesus said, "My grace is sufficient for you, for My strength is made perfect in weakness." II Cor. 12:9
And so my dear friend, it is safe to get off the bathroom floor. Jesus is not surprised, frightened or unable to cope with your crisis. If you are feeling broken, disappointed or uncertain you can rest assured that the Lord is fully able and mighty to save. You are in the middle of a process and your great high priest will continue to pray for you and watch over you. The situation will not be solved near as quickly as you would like, that is almost certain. But if you continue to stay in the struggle and call upon His name, He will bring about His higher purposes in ways that will astonish you. I am praying for your heart today.
Tuesday, April 26, 2011
Saturday, October 9, 2010
Rocks in my Soul
I have a child who loves rocks. It is impossible for her to collect enough of them; she is entirely insatiable in this regard. When she was very little she would ask permission to take rocks from the street and was always thrilled when I said yes. She carries within her soul a deep delight that rocks are free. She collects rocks like God will one day say, “Wait!! How are all these children getting free rocks? Who is giving them away? Quickly, our rock supply is dwindling, start charging for them!” She is utterly astonished that more people do not take advantage of this natural resource.
I have come to love this part of my daughter though at times her passion for petrology drives me absolutely crazy. When I do a load of laundry, I will inevitably find pebbles left in the bottom of the machine. My car is filled with stones as is my purse. Some women clean their purses to get rid of excess paper. I clean my purse so that I don’t accidentally kill someone with the twenty pound sedimentary satchel hanging from my body. I have nearly lost toes as rock fragments are launched from my vacuum cleaner. All of my most noble efforts to support, yet contain, her rock collections have failed.
As a Christian homeschooling mother, I am supposed to have a never ending reserve of enthusiasm and goodwill towards my children’s love for all things science. I am supposed to seize every opportunity to praise their interest and sense of discovery. I confess though, that this spring, the only thing I have wanted to seize is my daughter’s pretty neck as she has left a geological evidence trail everywhere she went. I was reaching my breaking point. Either the rocks or my daughter had to go; I was no longer sure which.
Things hit a crescendo this summer when we suddenly had to pack up our home. “He” was leading us in paths of righteousness for His name’s sake, and we had ended up in a most unexpected and upsetting valley. (Twenty third Psalm: make sure you read the fine print.) Family life was intensely stressful as we sought to pack belongs as quickly as possible. As I turned my attention to the outside patio I was utterly astonished to find countless flower pots and bags filled with rocks: lots of rocks. I devised a strategy of sorting the high density treasure. Ones that showed any sign of beauty were kept. Plain and ugly rocks became lining for the drainage ditch. (I confess I am a shallow and pathetic creature.) But as I was sorting, I soon created a pile at my feet which became the “I-hate-you-because-you-are-heavy-but-you-are-too-nice-to-throw-away-because-there-is-a-really-strong-likelihood-my-daughter-will-remember-you-one-day-and-start-crying-because-you-are-lost” pile. I sighed. One step forward, fourteen backward.
I worked for as long as I was able and then turned my attention to other matters. But every time I looked outside and caught sight of my unhewn stone altar I wondered what on earth I was going to do with the pile. Would I be an evil parent and throw away the treasure my little scientist had spent hours gathering? Was I in fact, that mean spirited? Could I hide the fact that I was that mean spirited from my child? Would she find out? At the end of the week, I came up with a plan of desperation. I would sweep the stones into the gravel driveway so that I could get rid of them. That way, I could rid myself of the plutonic pests without actually throwing them away. It was a legalistic plan based on semantics but I could live with it. Besides, I could not make myself pack another container of rocks even if it meant my daughter’s career as a scientist would be crushed. I just couldn’t. That evening, I took a garden brush and swept the career of my future scientist into the driveway. I felt guilty for a full forty minutes.
Moving day came and we sent the children outside so as not to be trampled by adults moving furniture. They scattered across the yard and played outside as children will. While moving an uncharacteristically heavy box, undoubtedly filled with science textbooks, I noticed my daughter grab a large plastic bag off the kitchen counter. “Child of mine, do not pick up collect more junk or I will trade you for many hamsters! “ “I won’t,” was the only reply I heard. When the loading was done, I noticed that same child drag a rather large bag into the back of my van. “Darling,” I growled. “What are you doing?” She ran to the car and threw her arms around me, blond hair curls flying and eyes sparkling. “Mummy, you wouldn’t believe it! I found some ones just like the ones that were at the beach. I found some more treasures! “ She grabbed my hand and brought me to the car. “See,” she said. “Aren’t they beautiful?” And with great joy she opened her bag, which contained the very same stones I had swept away not days before. I screamed. She mistook my abject horror for excitement and was happy that I was as thrilled as she was that she had found the missing twin stones. Several evil responses jumped into my mouth and were fortunately decapitated by my tongue. “Oh Jesus help me!!” was the only prayer I could muster. I was confronted with a blonde cherub who was intent on driving me crazy. I wanted to scream and throw her entire rock collection into the depths of the sea. But how could you be angry with a child who was honestly thrilled with finding her rocks not only once but twice?
In that moment, I realized I was a high stress parent who was content to crush my child if it meant not having to deal with another stone. It was a depressing thought. I was not like the good parents in the home school magazines. Those mothers made oatmeal for their children for breakfast and then used the leftovers to make paper-mâché solar systems in the afternoon. I was an inferior facsimile, worse than that; I was content to be a substandard teacher. I needed help and I desperately needed not to hurt her precious, peculiar, rock hounding heart. “Darling,” I said, breathing deeply, “Only you could have found rocks like those ones. I think you must have a special gift that Jesus gave you. I think that you are unlike any other child I have ever had.”
She looked at me like I was the best mother in the world. She squeezed my hand and said, “I know, I am so lucky.” She stood on tiptoe, kissed my cheek and danced across the yard. “I can’t wait to see what kind of rocks we find when we move!!” I was biting the inside of my cheek hard, and I smiled weakly,”Neither can I Bunny. Honestly, neither can I.”
And I almost meant it.
I have come to love this part of my daughter though at times her passion for petrology drives me absolutely crazy. When I do a load of laundry, I will inevitably find pebbles left in the bottom of the machine. My car is filled with stones as is my purse. Some women clean their purses to get rid of excess paper. I clean my purse so that I don’t accidentally kill someone with the twenty pound sedimentary satchel hanging from my body. I have nearly lost toes as rock fragments are launched from my vacuum cleaner. All of my most noble efforts to support, yet contain, her rock collections have failed.
As a Christian homeschooling mother, I am supposed to have a never ending reserve of enthusiasm and goodwill towards my children’s love for all things science. I am supposed to seize every opportunity to praise their interest and sense of discovery. I confess though, that this spring, the only thing I have wanted to seize is my daughter’s pretty neck as she has left a geological evidence trail everywhere she went. I was reaching my breaking point. Either the rocks or my daughter had to go; I was no longer sure which.
Things hit a crescendo this summer when we suddenly had to pack up our home. “He” was leading us in paths of righteousness for His name’s sake, and we had ended up in a most unexpected and upsetting valley. (Twenty third Psalm: make sure you read the fine print.) Family life was intensely stressful as we sought to pack belongs as quickly as possible. As I turned my attention to the outside patio I was utterly astonished to find countless flower pots and bags filled with rocks: lots of rocks. I devised a strategy of sorting the high density treasure. Ones that showed any sign of beauty were kept. Plain and ugly rocks became lining for the drainage ditch. (I confess I am a shallow and pathetic creature.) But as I was sorting, I soon created a pile at my feet which became the “I-hate-you-because-you-are-heavy-but-you-are-too-nice-to-throw-away-because-there-is-a-really-strong-likelihood-my-daughter-will-remember-you-one-day-and-start-crying-because-you-are-lost” pile. I sighed. One step forward, fourteen backward.
I worked for as long as I was able and then turned my attention to other matters. But every time I looked outside and caught sight of my unhewn stone altar I wondered what on earth I was going to do with the pile. Would I be an evil parent and throw away the treasure my little scientist had spent hours gathering? Was I in fact, that mean spirited? Could I hide the fact that I was that mean spirited from my child? Would she find out? At the end of the week, I came up with a plan of desperation. I would sweep the stones into the gravel driveway so that I could get rid of them. That way, I could rid myself of the plutonic pests without actually throwing them away. It was a legalistic plan based on semantics but I could live with it. Besides, I could not make myself pack another container of rocks even if it meant my daughter’s career as a scientist would be crushed. I just couldn’t. That evening, I took a garden brush and swept the career of my future scientist into the driveway. I felt guilty for a full forty minutes.
Moving day came and we sent the children outside so as not to be trampled by adults moving furniture. They scattered across the yard and played outside as children will. While moving an uncharacteristically heavy box, undoubtedly filled with science textbooks, I noticed my daughter grab a large plastic bag off the kitchen counter. “Child of mine, do not pick up collect more junk or I will trade you for many hamsters! “ “I won’t,” was the only reply I heard. When the loading was done, I noticed that same child drag a rather large bag into the back of my van. “Darling,” I growled. “What are you doing?” She ran to the car and threw her arms around me, blond hair curls flying and eyes sparkling. “Mummy, you wouldn’t believe it! I found some ones just like the ones that were at the beach. I found some more treasures! “ She grabbed my hand and brought me to the car. “See,” she said. “Aren’t they beautiful?” And with great joy she opened her bag, which contained the very same stones I had swept away not days before. I screamed. She mistook my abject horror for excitement and was happy that I was as thrilled as she was that she had found the missing twin stones. Several evil responses jumped into my mouth and were fortunately decapitated by my tongue. “Oh Jesus help me!!” was the only prayer I could muster. I was confronted with a blonde cherub who was intent on driving me crazy. I wanted to scream and throw her entire rock collection into the depths of the sea. But how could you be angry with a child who was honestly thrilled with finding her rocks not only once but twice?
In that moment, I realized I was a high stress parent who was content to crush my child if it meant not having to deal with another stone. It was a depressing thought. I was not like the good parents in the home school magazines. Those mothers made oatmeal for their children for breakfast and then used the leftovers to make paper-mâché solar systems in the afternoon. I was an inferior facsimile, worse than that; I was content to be a substandard teacher. I needed help and I desperately needed not to hurt her precious, peculiar, rock hounding heart. “Darling,” I said, breathing deeply, “Only you could have found rocks like those ones. I think you must have a special gift that Jesus gave you. I think that you are unlike any other child I have ever had.”
She looked at me like I was the best mother in the world. She squeezed my hand and said, “I know, I am so lucky.” She stood on tiptoe, kissed my cheek and danced across the yard. “I can’t wait to see what kind of rocks we find when we move!!” I was biting the inside of my cheek hard, and I smiled weakly,”Neither can I Bunny. Honestly, neither can I.”
And I almost meant it.
Monday, September 27, 2010
Your Alarm Clock
Hello Darling Friend of Mine!!
I am so happy to hear that your vacation is showing the potential of being enjoyable!! That is fabulous. I will take the presence of that massive grocery store as a blessing even though I am still unclear if that is actually possible. We will continue to pray that the Lord restores your family as you hang out on your holiday together.
The girls are enjoying your house and their Daddy’s presence immensely. It was so kind of you to think of us during this crazy season. We will take the upmost care of your house! We are having a grand time and we promise not to scare your neighbors.
Your email was filled with irony, unknown to you. We bless the name of Mickey Mouse every time we use your singing toaster. (How you put up with that appliance I will never know!!) But we have recently been engaged in a battle with another of your appliances…..family versus your silver alarm clock.
I first met your alarm clock Wednesday morning at 7:00am when it started to serenade me from your bedroom. It was a noisy musical greeting, but as I padded down the hall from the guestroom my heart was filled with goodwill. “Hello, Alarm Clock. You must be Stacey’s friend. I am the house sitter. I will not be needing your services. Here, let me push buttons and move switches so that our relationship can progress without you speaking.” Satisfied I had quieted your clock, I padded back down the hall. In my mind though, I was thinking to myself, “I wonder why I couldn’t find the off switch?”
My husband met your alarm clock on Thursday morning at 4:37am. Did I mention my husband was once a sailor and was in the first Gulf War? He still carries in his psyche some of the residual effects of loud noises in the dark. After my half clothed husband had ruled out car alarm and home invasion he moved back upstairs to meet Alarm Clock. His meeting with your chronometer was a bit more intense. To be fair, your Alarm Clock was not as pleasant to my husband. He did not sing, rather he beeped in what can only be called an aggressive manner. They had a terse and brief exchange which resulted in my husband unplugging Mr. Sassy-Silver-Square-Pants.
Though I was saddened they did not get along, I resolved to put the issue in the past and move on with great plans to sleep in. Imagine then, my surprise, to hear Alarm Clock at 4:37am this Friday morning. I ran swiftly down the hall before the unruly appliance awoke my husband. “Alarm clock! I thought my husband unplugged you! Are you attention seeking? Are you bitter that you have never been to Disneyland like Mr. Toaster? Please be quiet!!” I begged as I again pushed buttons and moved switches. After I had quieted Alarm Clock, I plodded back down the hall to get into bed. “I’m confused,” I thought to myself. “I was sure hubby unplugged that thing…..” I fell back to sleep before I could place the pieces together in my mind.
Imagine my astonishment, Stace and Denny, when I was awoken not five minutes later by the aforementioned unholy electronic terror! This time there was no love to be found in my heart. I grabbed the possessed silver demon by the head and charged into your bathroom with it under my arm to quiet its fury. I found the light switch and examined my tormentor. “How very clever,” I thought to myself as the mystery final revealed itself, “an alarm clock with two programmable times. Staggeringly brilliant. And to keep batteries in your alarm clock in case of a power outage! Fancy being so prepared!!!”
It has always been my heart to leave a house in good order when I house sit. I take great pains to clean a home, pray through it and try to organize a corner or a nook for the owners. Do no harm is my policy. After all, we have been blessed to be a blessing. But darling friends, one thing will not be the same when you return home from your trip. You will find Mr. Alarm Clock not beside the bed where you left him, but on the dresser with both batteries removed. I do hope you understand.
Enjoy your vacation,
Much love,
KB
I am so happy to hear that your vacation is showing the potential of being enjoyable!! That is fabulous. I will take the presence of that massive grocery store as a blessing even though I am still unclear if that is actually possible. We will continue to pray that the Lord restores your family as you hang out on your holiday together.
The girls are enjoying your house and their Daddy’s presence immensely. It was so kind of you to think of us during this crazy season. We will take the upmost care of your house! We are having a grand time and we promise not to scare your neighbors.
Your email was filled with irony, unknown to you. We bless the name of Mickey Mouse every time we use your singing toaster. (How you put up with that appliance I will never know!!) But we have recently been engaged in a battle with another of your appliances…..family versus your silver alarm clock.
I first met your alarm clock Wednesday morning at 7:00am when it started to serenade me from your bedroom. It was a noisy musical greeting, but as I padded down the hall from the guestroom my heart was filled with goodwill. “Hello, Alarm Clock. You must be Stacey’s friend. I am the house sitter. I will not be needing your services. Here, let me push buttons and move switches so that our relationship can progress without you speaking.” Satisfied I had quieted your clock, I padded back down the hall. In my mind though, I was thinking to myself, “I wonder why I couldn’t find the off switch?”
My husband met your alarm clock on Thursday morning at 4:37am. Did I mention my husband was once a sailor and was in the first Gulf War? He still carries in his psyche some of the residual effects of loud noises in the dark. After my half clothed husband had ruled out car alarm and home invasion he moved back upstairs to meet Alarm Clock. His meeting with your chronometer was a bit more intense. To be fair, your Alarm Clock was not as pleasant to my husband. He did not sing, rather he beeped in what can only be called an aggressive manner. They had a terse and brief exchange which resulted in my husband unplugging Mr. Sassy-Silver-Square-Pants.
Though I was saddened they did not get along, I resolved to put the issue in the past and move on with great plans to sleep in. Imagine then, my surprise, to hear Alarm Clock at 4:37am this Friday morning. I ran swiftly down the hall before the unruly appliance awoke my husband. “Alarm clock! I thought my husband unplugged you! Are you attention seeking? Are you bitter that you have never been to Disneyland like Mr. Toaster? Please be quiet!!” I begged as I again pushed buttons and moved switches. After I had quieted Alarm Clock, I plodded back down the hall to get into bed. “I’m confused,” I thought to myself. “I was sure hubby unplugged that thing…..” I fell back to sleep before I could place the pieces together in my mind.
Imagine my astonishment, Stace and Denny, when I was awoken not five minutes later by the aforementioned unholy electronic terror! This time there was no love to be found in my heart. I grabbed the possessed silver demon by the head and charged into your bathroom with it under my arm to quiet its fury. I found the light switch and examined my tormentor. “How very clever,” I thought to myself as the mystery final revealed itself, “an alarm clock with two programmable times. Staggeringly brilliant. And to keep batteries in your alarm clock in case of a power outage! Fancy being so prepared!!!”
It has always been my heart to leave a house in good order when I house sit. I take great pains to clean a home, pray through it and try to organize a corner or a nook for the owners. Do no harm is my policy. After all, we have been blessed to be a blessing. But darling friends, one thing will not be the same when you return home from your trip. You will find Mr. Alarm Clock not beside the bed where you left him, but on the dresser with both batteries removed. I do hope you understand.
Enjoy your vacation,
Much love,
KB
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