When there is nowhere else to turn...

When you've called everyone you know, and there's nothing else you can do, when you've exhuasted all your resources, and you feel completely defeated and lost, where in the world can you go? Who can you turn to when the world is so dark and no one has any answers or even seems to care? When your house has been destroyed, when your child has cancer, when the bills outpace your ability to pay, when your loved one is in jail, when your church disappoints you, when your grown child no longer wants you in her life, when your family betrays you, when your health gives out, when you are in a hopelessly impossible situation with no way out...WHERE DO YOU GO? WHO DO YOU CALL? 

(and no, the answer is not Ghostbusters.) 

The answer is JESUS, friends. It is, was and always will be Jesus Christ, son of the living God.  He is the light of the world, the way, the truth, the Redeemer, our friend, our Savior, who will never leave nor forsake us. 

Yeah, you knew I was gonna say that, right? And we Christians are always so happy and carefree because we always, ALWAYS give our worries and our cares and our problems to Jesus. We never try to handle those seemingly impossible problems, or climb huge mountains without our Guide, and we never EVER think we are hopelessly stuck with nowhere else to go.  

Right. If you believe that, I'll give you a great deal on some farmland in Antartica.

I know my past sins are wiped clean by the death and resurrection of Jesus. 

I know my future lies in heaven. 

The problem? Like many (most?) believers, I trust my past and my future to Jesus Christ, but I often neglect to trust Him with my present in both good times and hard times. When life is good, when things are going smoothly like butter on a hot skillet, I forget who created me and everything around me. I chalk up my successes to my intelligence, my experiences, and oh yeah, to my wonderful walk with God, wonderful because of all the things I do--going to church, reading my Bible, writing in my journal. Oh yeah, I have the inside track on getting God to help me with my trials and tribulations. And when things are tough, when my life is falling apart, do I turn to God first? No. Again, because I am so intelligent, so creative, and such a real problem solver, I can figure it out myself. Until I can't. Then I turn to Him, ashamed, embarrassed to tell Him I failed, that I need His help. I picture God looking at me, shaking His head, sighing a big sigh, and saying, "C'mon, child, give me your hand, and all your problems and your joys, and I will carry them for you, and I won't ever scold you."  (yes, my paraphrase of Matthew 11:28-29). 

The past 15 months have tried my heart, brought me to the breaking point. Last October, my stepdaughter and her kids told me (while I was in the hospital) they wanted nothing to do with us anymore--I was suddenly the evil stepmom. Three months later, back in the hospital for routine surgery, I nearly died from "surgical complications" and ended up with chest tubes, a lengthy hospital stay, and months of recovery. My oldest daughter and her family are experiencing employment issues overseas, and my youngest daughter is facing a trial of monstrous proportions.  Sure there were happy times intermingled in there...beautiful daughters and granddaughters, taking one of them to fulfill her dream at Universal Studio's worlds of Harry Potter, visiting my oldest and her beauties in Malaysia, and being married to the best husband I could ask for. And just when I thought life couldn't hand me any more challenges, my mentally challenged 73-year old brother had to move back in with us--worsening cognitive decline. And although I have prayed and and prayed and was confident in my faith,  trusting God to help me figure this one out, I hit yet another brick wall of bureacratic red tape. Medicaid. Medicare. RHA. Vaya Health. NCDHHS. DSS. All dead ends. Today I went out to my car in the school parking lot and cried until there were no more tears. And I gave it all back to God...again, for the umpteenth time. 

He is always there, and although He would love to have us turn to Him first, He will always be there, when there is nowhere else to turn. 

Wrinkles

One of my favorite grandchild memories is when then 3-year old Isabella retrieved her play iron and put it on my face, announcing, "Nana, I'm going to iron out all your wrinkles!" Oh how I laughed (and secretly wished it were true.) But, the reality is that wrinkles are proof we've lived and felt and somehow survived the trials life has thrown at us. 

But what about the wrinkles we encounter in our daily lives? Those unexpected curve balls seemingly coming out of nowhere, zooming dangeroulsy close to us, threatening to knock us on our butt (and sometimes succeeding). Recently I asked for prayers to help me manage a new wrinkle in my life, one not totally unexpected, but a wrinkle nonetheless in my otherwise smooth, orderly life (go ahead an laugh). My brother, age 73 and completely dependent on others for everything, moved back into our home. I was certain I could handle it all, that I could smooth that wrinkle out in no time flat (pun intended). After two days I knew what a bunch of hogwash that was.

Despite my countless professions of faith in Christ, despite my identity as a daughter of God, redeemed by the One who took my sins and struggles on His shoulders, despite me KNOWING I do not control anything--in less that 12 hours I forgot who I am and who I am not. I cried, I shouted, I despaired, and foolishly I convinced myself I could handle it all. So I picked up my giant iron of pride and attacked that wrinkle with all my might, pushing, pressing, forcing it into submission, determined to make it smooth and perfect. When it wouldn't budge, I tried even harder, but like those stubborn clothes you iron only to have more wrinkles pop up somewhere else, or worse yet, creasing the wrinkle permanently, it was no use. So I gave up. It was hopeless. I was neither willing nor able to figure out how to manage what a week prior I was confident I could.  

Until I stopped pushing back, stopped trying to control the situation, stopped feeling guilty for being inadequate, and stopped beating myself up for not having perfect endurance. You see, like many Christians (probably all of us), I have a "large hole in the center of my Gospel," as Paul David Tripp wrote. We understand we received forgiveness (past), and are sure of our salvation (future), but we forget Jesus is in the here and now...in us...in the present.

Life is full of wrinkles, folks. Some can be smoothed out, but most of them are creased firmly into our history, proof of having lived; looking back, that wrinkled tapestry, though not perfectly smooth, is beautiful in its own way. And if I could impose on the reader to allow me one more reference to my "ironing" metaphor, that wrinkled, torn, frayed tapestry will be exchanged for new and perfect robes when we join God in heaven. So don't try to endure or control what life throws at you. Rest. Allow the perfect God to walk with us through this imperfect yet perfectly planned life.

Out of my distress I called on the Lord; the Lord answered me and set me free. (Psalm 118:5)

Have I ever told you...

...how much I love you? How beautiful you have made my life since the day you were born? Your first cry, oh how wonderful that sound was. Those eyes, those gorgeous brown eyes. The way those eyes would look at me with such trust and unconditional love and wonder. And I would look into those eyes in the middle of the night while I nursed you and your tiny hands would wrap around one finger, and I stared in disbelief at the miracle that only hours before was inside of me. Sometimes it seems like yesterday, and other days, like a dream, a dream I remember every single agonizingly beautiful moment. And every day since that day I hold onto those memories because you changed me, you helped me find the place inside me that I needed to be, the person I was meant to become. Every moment before that single, precious moment was as nothing. All my mistakes, successes, and failures. Things I once thought important. Hurts and struggles I had faced. Previous goals and dreams and desires seemed foolish and childish. All of it faded into nothingness overcome by the beauty of you. With each passing day I loved you more, marveling at the miracle of you in my life. Every day I thought you could never be smarter, funnier, prettier, cuter than you were at that moment, but the next day came and I was wrong. Oh those magical early years, so perfect. I reveled in the blessings of being your mom, and the sorrows of my past seemed to melt away. Being in the miiltary and being a mother fulfilled me in ways I will never understand. 

Then reality sank in. Funny how the past has a way of catching up with me, how decisions made in haste come back to prick at my conscience. I had married on a whim, looking for someone who needed me, who would fill an aching hole in my heart. He did not and could not. After a year we both knew our marriage was a sham. We used each other and hurt each other and eventually I realized I had to get out and take you with me. So much damage done. I won’t try to make you understand why your dad and I divorced or why we married in the first place. It was not my fault nor was it his. We were friends who grew apart. Became bitter. Resentful. Hurting each other. And I left because I knew he never would. You deserved to be in an atmosphere of love and respect. I owed you that much; you and your sister were the best part of us. I pray you can forgive me for inflicting the hurt of divorce on you. I know you felt angry, sad, confused. No marriage is perfect because the people in it are imperfect. So many things I cannot tell you or explain to you because, well, it would not be right to visit that on you. 

Right before your dad left, I deployed to Alaska so your dad could have alone time with you before he moved back to Cincinnati. Funny how God works. Meeting Alex on that deployment was so unplanned, so serendipitous, and so petrifying. We have had turbulent years , for sure. Life in our house was unpredictable, a. roller coaster of ups and downs. We have been through a lot, all of us. Through it all God has changed me and made me face a lot of things, things I never wanted to think about, some things I did not want to let go of. And now, 35 years after that fateful decision, I can honestly say I am healed—scars, yes, some still very tender to the touch. And there are times I lay too much on you, share too much about my hurts and healing, and cry tears in front of you, tears better shed alone. I forget sometimes you are my child, my daughter, and a mom yourself. I have burdened you with my hurts, my fears, my mistakes, looking for some absolution or validation. For that I ask your forgiveness. And to not judge me for my inadequacies. It has taken me a lifetime to learn how to be a good mother; I had no one to show me how.  Which makes me marvel even more how you are so much more of a mom than I ever was or could ever be. I thank God for you every minute of every day.  And every time I look into your eyes, those eyes I first looked into while you lay in my arms, my heart sings a song of thanks to God for letting me be your mother.