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?  

The Miracle Princess

Once upon a time, there lived a woman who had two beautiful daughters.  She loved those girls with all her heart, wanting nothing but happiness for them.  If they were sad, she would make them laugh.  When they didn't understand their homework, she helped them.  She made sure they were warm, and fed, and healthy.  They went camping, and played basketball.  She took them to their games and their concerts.  And she had birthday parties for them.  

When the youngest daughter was 12 years old, she got very sick.  Cancer, the doctor said.  Poor prognosis, high risk.  The woman cried and cried, but mostly she prayed for a miracle.  For her little girl to live, to fulfill her purpose, to have a chance at being a wife and a mother.  God heard that prayer, as He hears all our prayers, and He made the little girl well again.   But the doctors said she would never be able to have children of her own, which broke the woman's heart, because she knew what joy children bring, and that both of her daughters would be wonderful mothers.  

Years later, both daughters were grown, and married.  The oldest daughter had first one, then two, and finally three beautiful little girls of her own, making the woman oh so very happy.  She loved to watch her granddaughters, but especially reveled in seeing her daughter as a mother.    And, although the youngest daughter acted as if she did not really want any children, the woman knew in her heart that she was afraid.  Afraid the doctors were right.  She acted brave, and nonchalant, like she didn't care, but she did.  

Then one day, 18 years after her cancer was gone, the daughter got the the most extraordinary, surprising news.  She was pregnant!  Weeks later, she found out it was a girl.  She was thrilled and scared and nervous and excited, and thought it was just too good to be true.  But carefully, oh so carefully, she allowed herself to believe it, and then she grew happier with each passing month.  Finally, the big day came, and her little miracle was born.  A beautiful baby girl with big eyes and curly brown hair.  With each passing day, she grew more beautiful, and her mother fell more in love with her.  Everyone who met her loved her--friends, neighbors, and family.  The baby grew, smiled, took her first steps, said her first word, had her first birthday, then her second.  

The woman watched as her youngest daughter excelled as a mother,  cherishing those special moments her daughter shared with her.  She thought back to that terrible, terrible night 20 years earlier, the night she prayed for a miracle on the porch of the Ronald McDonald house.  

And realized the miracle was now complete.  

Sophie, age 2

Blowin' in the wind

Another day, another tragedy.  Senseless violence.  Blood spatter on video games so real, I want to puke.  Rubbernecking at a gory interstate multiple car crash.  Civil wars, genocide, infanticide.  Refugees from Syria, Nigeria, Rwanda, Myanmar.  Endless media coverage of graphic footage of (insert recent violent act here).  Talking heads debating who caused it, how to stop it. Finger pointing, turning a blind eye. A flurry of outrage on Instagram, FaceBook, Twitter, and at the coffee shop.  Everyone wants to do something, but time marches on.  We become even more numb, and we move on, back to our comfortable lives, satisfied that our posts and our well-meaning prayers adequately express our sorrow and indignation. Until the next time.  Who caused it?  Why?  How could someone do this?  Why doesn't God answer?  Where IS God in all this?  Blowing' in the wind...

Playing in my head right now are songs of the 60s, especially Dylan's, more specifically, the first one I learned to play on a cheap six-string guitar.  Blowing' In The Wind was written almost 60 years ago, sung by Joan Baez, Peter Paul and Mary, and of course, Dylan. It was a staple at Vietnam war protests, rallies, and sit-ins.  My generation took up the call as an anthem for change.  We thought it was simple...congregate and sing some protest songs, resist, march. Anti guns, anti-war, stop poverty, civil rights marches, stop racism. Watts,  John Lennon, Harlem, Woodstock, Guthrie, Charles Manson, Black Panthers, Patty Hearst, Ho Chi Minh Trail, Mekong Delta, communes, hippies, free love.  We were so in touch, so passionately desperate for peace, and we thought we had all the answers.  All we had to do was sing, wear flowers in our hair, and change the world. We tried to grasp the answers, hell, we tried to grasp the questions...blowin' in the wind.  

I still don't have the answer. Many people think they do. Control guns. Mental  health. Get to church. Read the Bible. Home school. Turn off your iPhones and disconnect from all the electronics. Go back to nature. Pray. Love. Do good.  Confront. Don't confront. I don't have a clue. Dylan didn't either, he was quite cryptic about it, saying "There ain't much I can say about this song, except the answer is blowin' in the wind. It ain't no book or movie or TV show or discussion group, man, it's in the wind."

Bob Dylan, Blowin in the Wind

Growing Pains

In reading 1 Samuel, I can relate to what Israel is going through in the first six chapters--God starts them on a new chapter of their lives. They had grown complacent, lazy, and had forgotten their sole purpose was to glorify God.  Their sacrifices and traditions had become stale, and a renewal of their hearts was drastically needed.  So God called out to Samuel, "And Samuel grew and the LORD was with him and let none of his words fall to the ground." (1 Sam 3:19). Yet, although all Israel knew Samuel, and realized he was the prophet of God, they STILL persisted in trusting their own ways, and tried to force God's hand by using the ark of the covenant as a talisman to defeat the Philistines. Well, God had other plans--the ark was captured, Eli and his sons died, and all seemed hopeless.  However, God used that defeat to glorify himself, and to remind everyone, including Israel, that He alone is omnipotent. The Philistines start having all sorts of problems with the pesky ark...their god falls over and breaks, mice are running rampant, and men are afflicted with tumors. They cannot get rid of that ark fast enough; Israel rejoices over their apparent good fortune. Samuel gathers them all together, though, and warns them to give themselves over completely to God--to abandon their old ways, their false gods. But when the Philistines hear all Israel is gathering in one location, they fear an uprising and a battle, so they, in turn, go up against Israel. The people of Israel start to panic, but this time, instead of trying to "help" God fix things, they instead call upon the Lord.  "And the hand of the LORD was against the Philistines all the days of Samuel." (1 Sam 7:13)

God has been teaching me, leading me, and schooling me in the ways of His grace, and I have been clumsily trying to follow His lead, to let go and let God be in control of my life. Like so many renewed Christians, I expected my life to become immediately better, for all my problems to be solved, for obstacles to just disappear, and for my enemies to be vanquished. I tried to help God, to force His hand. to second-guess what He meant to happen. And, like the people of Israel, I despaired when it seemed all was lost, that God had forsaken me, and feared being defeated yet again. Things got worse, not better. Yet, as long as I keep my eyes on God, and trust in His deliverance in His timing, my heart stops pounding and my soul rests in the blessed assurance that is in Jesus. Like Paul said to the Thessalonians, "you turned to God from idols to serve the living and true God, and to wait for his Son from heaven...Jesus who delivers us from the wrath to come." (1 Thess 1:9-10)

God not only loves me; He has CHOSEN me, as evidenced by my receipt of the gospel, the Good News, and by the indwelling of the Holy Spirit. I must trust in Him, and imitate Christ in all I do, even when life seems hopeless.  Jesus delivers us from the wrath "to come." Despite all the fancy words of prosperity preachers like Osteen and Joyce Meyer, my faith in Christ is not the secret recipe for happiness and abundance in this life.  It does not guarantee freedom from affliction, or sorrow, or pain. Not in this world, anyway. Like Israel learned time and time again, God is with His people in all circumstances, and through this, God's people reflect His glory, and the joy of His Holy Spirit, thereby reaching others, who in turn, become believers.  Not because we have it so much better, but because they see in us how, in spite of our circumstances, our faith is a bright, shining light to a world steeped in darkness.

A Matter of Life and Death

Life. The meaning of life. The gift of life. Life's lessons. Live life to the fullest. Life is too short.  Life in the fast lane. It's a wonderful life. Enjoy your life.  Live laugh love. The best years of my life. Living' loving' it's just a woman. Life's savings.  Life's work. A life well lived. Don't waste your life.  Today is the first day of the rest of your life.  Life without parole.  I want my life back.  Live out loud. Making a living. Happy wife, happy life. Life is an adventure. Life goes on. Get a life. It's my life.  

Life. Yes, it is a miracle, a gift, a wonder.  Life can be thrilling, boring, fulfilling, and disappointing. It can drag on, or pass quickly.  While we are living it, at times we barely notice it. We cling to life and all its trappings fiercely.  We spend so much time living our lives, watching other people's lives, and fitting more into our lives, we forget that life as we know it is not eternal. I know I have. Then, one day, it suddenly hits you--life does end, will end, for you and everyone else. And when that happens, everything else grinds to a halt.  

For some, life ends unexpectedly, suddenly, tragically, and with no warning. For others, life begins to fade slowly, gradually, almost imperceptibly, until one day, life is no more. Regardless, we are not used to facing the inevitability of death. We don't talk about it, even though we worry about it, and try to forestall death. We use euphemisms like "pass away," "kick the bucket," "buy the farm," "go to our eternal home"--anything so we don't have to say someone DIED. We stage illnesses to avoid saying anything like "terminal" or "end of life."  When someone is dying, or has died, the most talkative, understanding person becomes speechless, and it is all we can do to mumble our condolences, or nervously fidget and say "sorry" and then hurry off, back to our lives.  

My dad is almost 94 years old. He is an amazing, exasperating, frustrating, and at times a self-centered man. He has lived an amazing life, and is still full of life.  He has never really been sick, he still has all his marbles, and he is glad to give you a piece of his mind, even if you don't want it. Sometimes he makes me crazy, and sometimes he makes me laugh, but mostly he is a huge part of my life.  My family's lives. Together we've experienced births, deaths, weddings, divorces, birthdays, graduations, and baptisms. We have traveled around the US, to Italy, England, and to Niagara falls. We spend at least two holidays a year with him, if not more, and I have been calling him every Sunday at 8:00 pm since I can remember. Hell, we have shared so many memories with Dad and Sheila, they have become an integral part of the fabric of our life. I thought he'd live forever. I mean, I know that is impossible, but life, though it prepares you for many things, does not prepare you for the end of it.  

Thanksgiving, 2017, my parents were at our home in North Carolina, eating turkey dinner with all the trimmings, just another holiday memory for the photo albums and slide shows. Two months later, I am here with them, in their home, watching my dad die of lung disease.For the past four weeks, my world has been turned completely inside out and upside down, and my life before this is a distant, blurry other-world.  He is still my dad, still the same pain in the ass at times, but still the best father I could ever ask for. I love him like I love breathing--I take it for granted most of the time, but there are those precious moments, like now, when nothing else really matters except him. Days are extraordinary in their routine sameness.   We talk, eat, manage the mundane medical and hygiene tasks, and we are together.    I don't take care of him, or do a lot for him. I just bask in the honor of being here as his daughter, to share this very private and precious time with him and his wife.  We talk about dying, we talk about life, our lives, and we talk about life after death.  And while I do not know when his life will end and death come, I do know that I would not have missed the honor of sharing this time with him, not for all the money in the world.  

Taking the time to face our mortality, to prepare for death, to be with someone who is staring death in the face...such a precious, precious gift. Nothing else matters.  I have no fear, no regrets, no indecisiveness.  

It is a matter of life.  And death.