Movin' On

How do I move on? Past the guilt and pain and loss? Past the anger and sense of unfairness of it all? I quote scripture and profess trusting in Christ and His freeing redemption of my soul; I purport to rely on God’s will and his omniscience. But on days like today, it’s all a facade. It’s hopeless. I am defeated and denigrated and shamed. I thought there would be some victory, some bittersweet vindication.  There is none. Despite prayer and all the high sounding words, when I scrape it all away, I am bitter and defeated. I tried to do the “right” thing. And when I was falsely accused, I trusted man’s law to exonerate me. I expected family to rally around me, to take up my battle cry and side with me. I wanted validation and, God forgive me, I wanted vengeance. I yearned for my accusers to be defeated, proven wrong, and brought to their knees; I half-expected them to beg my forgiveness, and to reconcile.  

Yeah that didn’t happen.This is real life. People are mean spirited and myopic and, above all, self centered. We walk around in a self-constructed cocoon of our own values and desires, professing allegiance to our creator, but we only occasionally see past our comfortable surroundings to the bigger purpose that is God’s.  We (and by we I of course am including myself) claim victory in Christ Jesus and the Cross, but we balk when that cross is laid on our shoulders.  Take it off, we say.  It’s too heavy, too uncomfortable, the cost is too high. We chase after the admiration and support of others, and try to build up our own army to fight the evil and the falsehoods and the deception of the world. We desperately cock our heads to hear echoes of our own beliefs. And when there is naught but silence, we despair.  

Yes. That is where I sit right now, wallowing in the inequity, the unfairness of it all.  Asking questions that will never be answered and seeking the holy grail of acquittal that can never be found— not in this life, at least. I don’t always have it all together, and sometimes I am just so friggin human it irks me. Do I want to let it all go and trust God in his ultimate wisdom?  Sure.  Do I believe the promises of His word?  Of course! Do I know without a doubt that His grace covers all my ugliness , that His blood washes away all my sins, and that I am forever blameless in the Father’s eyes? Yes, yes and yes! Despite all those affirmations, though, times like these I seek comfort in the familiar blanket of self-pity and pain.I (gasp!) stop believing those promises for a fraction of a second. And that is when my feet are knocked out from under me and I find myself flat on my ass, head in my arms, hands balled up into fists.  

I can’t always be perfect. I don’t always reflect Christ.  

Good thing God doesn’t need me to convince anyone of his glory, or sell his magnificence.  Or promote his omnipotence.   He is God and I am not, He is the Potter and I am the clay, He alone creates, and I, as His creation, am here to constantly point toward Him and glorify Him.  

It just ain’t always that easy.  

A New Day

I woke up today, started my daily routine--bathroom, make bed, get a cup of coffee, check my phone for messages, read my daily verse.  My brain is sort of on autopilot in the morning, ticking off what is on my things to do list, calculating when I should feed the dogs, take my walk, what to eat for breakfast, and mulling over whatever my current situational worry warrants. Normally, it takes at LEAST a cup of coffee before I can even begin to fathom God's Word, or compose my morning prayer.  This morning, though, the Word actually grabbed me, sat me down, and turned off the noise in my head. Two things I read jumped out at me:  

"O LORD, you are my God: I will exalt you;I will praise your name, for you have done wonderful things, plans formed of old, faithful and sure." (Isaiah 25:1), 

and

"So I find myself praising God for the joy in the little surprises and wonders, for beauty in the everyday and even the regularity of the chaos." (Mandy Stock, March newsletter).  

Plans and chaos.  Don't we all start out every day thinking about our plans for the day, the week, for our future?  And aren't those plans sometimes frustrated by the everyday chaos of our lives--traffic jams, storms, emergency phone calls, a sick child, a broken appliance?  Do we look at our current situation, bump it up against our plans, and become frustrated because the two don't marry up?  Do we succumb to the chaos, revel in good news, fret about our worries, and totally miss the point?  That, regardless of whatever current situation or drama is impacting our lives, God is sovereign, and He planned it ALL out, before the beginning of time.  That whatever we are going through is part of His plan, and will ultimately glorify Him.  And, that there is beauty in the chaos, and order in our seemingly random, frantic lives.  

God, give me patience and peace and joy as I enter this day, and every day.  Show me how to be thankful for the expected and the unexpected, because You have planned it all before I was even born.  Teach me to lean on you, trust in you, wait for you, and most of all, to praise you.  

"For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways, declares the LORD." (Isaiah 55:8)

The Difficulty of Dependence

Two months ago, my "intellectually disabled" older brother moved in with us--permanently. "Intellectually disabled" is the new vernacular for mentally handicapped/special needs/mentally retarded--none of those terms really capture the challenge, though. And yes, it has been quite an adjustment for all of us, including him. Not just new routines and new schedules, or the obvious transition for David to move to a new home, in a different state, after 66 years of living with parents. No, it's an entirely different dynamic, for all three of us (or all 8 of us if you count the dogs and the cats). We have different sleep schedules, eating habits, likes and dislikes.  David has made the whole move quite easily, mostly because we love him and accept him for who he is, and we celebrate his differences.   Let's be real, though; having a mentally handicapped adult move in with us during our retirement years is not something you plan for, and it sure as heck ain't easy.  We are not always patient and understanding with each other, let alone with David. Sometimes we get stressed out, and there have been a couple moments of feeling a twinge of resentment for not having the "freedom" we had before the move. Mostly, though, having my brother move in with us has had the very unexpected effect of highlighting my faults, and the weaknesses of my faith. Especially in the area of putting my dependence in ALL things on God.  

The manner in which God orchestrated this change in our lives is, of course, mind-blowing.  For the past 10-15 years, it has been a given that David would move in with us, eventually.  That my parents would no longer be able to care for him at some point. That, obviously, my parents would not live forever.  I thought I would be prepared for the inevitable, because of the very nature of it being, well, inevitable. But, when it happened, it was so sudden, so surprising, neither of us even had time to think about it. The "sometime in the future" event arrived without any warning when my dad had to be rushed to the emergency room, and nearly died. David moved here, I stayed with my parents while my dad slowly convalesced, and finally, I was able to come back home. Miraculously, and I truly mean, MIRACULOUSLY, the county vocational services found short-term funding so David could attend adult day care at no cost to us. He was able to go to a big gala funded by the Tim Tebow Foundation, A Night To Shine, even though we hadn't had the presence of mind to register him.  The local bowling alley in our small town offered to have David "work" there one day a week, and they pay him by allowing him to bowl for free. He goes on field trips, is given free tickets to concerts in our area, and is just, well, generally happy.  

One night Alex and I were discussing something involving David, and David, as usual, kept interjecting so as to be part of our conversation.  He kept asking what we were talking about, would he be okay, what did it all mean, and how did it affect him. He was genuinely worried, and needed reassurance, so we did just that, telling him we have it, not to worry, that anything and everything he needs in life is taken care of.  He kept saying, "Really?  You mean it?," and then, just like that, he quit worrying about that specific issue.  (Of course, five minutes later he was worried about how he was going to dry his clothes with the dryer broken. We solved that too).  

How did we facilitate what should have been such a difficult change?  We simply told my brother not to worry. Here is a man who has been dependent on others for his entire life. He trusts those who are responsible for him, without reservation, implicitly.  He doesn't worry about whether there will be food in the refrigerator, or if the electric bill gets paid, or if someone can fix the dryer.  He is TOTALLY dependent on us for everything.  Every.  Single.  Thing.  That is when it hit me.  God wants the same thing out of me. Total, utter dependence. On Him. Not on my resources.  Not on my intelligence, or my insight. Because, at the end (and the beginning) of the day, I know no more about what or why or how things happen, than my brother does.  

God, give me the simple, trusting heart of a child. Or that of a man-child.  

I'm really not that much smarter, am I?