Full hearts still hurt

A well-meaning mom asked me the other day this question. "How could you send your oldest son around the world at only 19 years old for six months!? I could never do that!" I truly hope my face did not convey what my mind was thinking because if it did I am sure the expression offended her. I tried to quickly regroup and had to simply state, "Because he was not my son first, and I don't ever want to stand in front of our Lord and have to answer for why I stood in the way of his God-dreams." It is the truth. It is my role in my son's life. His dad and I are to basically move out of the way at this point. We have done the best we can in our flawed human efforts to steward this child well that the Lord gave us so that he can grow into a man that chases hard after God. Why would we want to stand in the way of this pursuit now? We are seeing the years of prayers, tears, defeats, and triumphs come full circle and for this we are humbled and excited.

But, if I am completely honest, this flesh still gets in the way sometimes. 

This momma just misses her boy.

There are days that feel like I can't breathe simply because I want that 6' tall man-child to come barreling through the front door with that contagious smile of his announcing, "I'm home!" I so miss the way his little sister would squeal, "Austy's here!" anytime he would drive up. I miss hearing him playing video games in the other room with his twelve year old brother, all the while intentionally sneaking in tidbits of life that he feels are important to pass on to his younger counterpart. I miss the way that he made sure to always compliment my cooking and thank me for the meal prepared after dinner. I miss his political discussions he would have with his dad. I miss getting sneak peeks into video work he is doing and wanting to jump with excitement over seeing something that can move me to tears, or awe.

I missed my son's 20th birthday. 

I miss my boy.

But, God is faithful. As time moves on until Austin's return (counted down by a little sister, a homemade calendar, and a purple marker) God is teaching me so very much. He is teaching me not only to let go of the way things were, but to get excited in the things to come. To embrace those wings He gave my son that are meant to fly wherever He takes him.

The wonderful thing is, the more we watch our son soar, the more we realize that our dreams are not so far from his. Every picture he posts, every video he creates of his time there is one more draw into dreams about places we knew existed, but never saw.

And more importantly, it gives a face to people we pray for but have never seen. Those same faces could be any where in the world. They may have differences in appearance, but the faces are the same. They are faces that need to look upon a great Savior. 

Yes, as I cling to being able to Skype my son once every few weeks, wake up every single morning and check my Facebook and email before I even get out of bed looking for a message from 7,700 miles away, I can choose to rejoice whether it is there or not. I am watching my son grow into the man God wants him to become, and in turn, his journey is encouraging and challenging those of us that need to be stretched in our own way. This stirring in me for something more, something that is desperately fighting against complacency...this is because of a boy that stepped on a plane in answer to his call. In this, I can also rejoice.

My heart may hurt, but my heart is full.

                                                                                               (Photo Credit - Austin Wideman)

Colored Pencils in a Gray World

She colors her graphing blocks on the second half of her math paper.  As she works I simply say, "Hope, isn't it wonderful how God made our world so colorful?" Expecting an answer that only carries the insight of a six year old, I am surprised by her response.

After a pause, she looks up from her coloring and stares deep. "Wouldn't it be sad if I was gray? Just gray. And the ground was gray? And everything else, too?"

She put her coloring pencil down and carefully chooses a different color for the next row.

She continues, "That would be a world without God."

She resumes coloring in the bright blue she has chosen, not realizing the places touched in my heart by her words.

This made me pause. Truly pause. As I looked out the window at the still-green tree in the yard, the crisp blue sky, the little yellow daisies that have recently reappeared in the flower beds, and the browning grass ~ I am overwhelmed with gratitude. I am overcome with gratefulness for a creative and saving God!

How often do I walk through my day muddled by the gray of the world? The shades of dark and drab that are the sin not only in the world, but especially the sin in my own life. My sin that holds me back from experiencing all the vibrant love and joy the Lord offers me.

And even more painful in this moment is the reality of how easy it is for me to ignore the gray that people who don't know my Savior live in? Not only in the moments of each day, but it could be their eternity. The thought of this kind of gray breaks me. The gray my sweet Hope speaks of. The gray of a "world without God." No color. No real hope. The hope of the light that only He can bring into the gray.


Today, I will see the colors, because I will look. I will open my eyes in gratitude for the fact I don't have to live in a gray world, and rejoice in knowing that neither does anyone else. I will choose to do my part today to share this colorful Truth with new urgency!

Thank you Hope, for sweet, much needed reminders.

Thank you Lord for the beautiful tan-skinned, brown haired, pink toenail-painted (with sparkles) little girl sitting next to me who continues to teach me so much.

Resting in the back of an ambulance

Last week I wrote about needing to stop doing and start listening.  The Lord made sure that happened.

The stopping part started with a ride in an ambulance.

I found myself last Thursday night about 11:00 being put in the back of an ambulance and on my way to the hospital.  Numbness and tingling in your left arm and a sudden onset of your throat closing up are a couple of signs that the best place you could be in that moment is in the back of an ambulance.  As I was driven away from my children, my husband, and my home I could do nothing but pray.  Pray, and listen.  Listen for the Lord's calming voice.  Listen for reassurance that even this is a part of His plan.

The next few hours are a blur.  I know that my speech was struggling.  I couldn't lift my left arm or squeeze the neurologist's hand.  I couldn't swallow correctly. But, I could look at my husband and feel safe.  I could feel my oldest son's hand on my shoulder.  I could silently pray and feel calm.  I didn't understand most of what was going on, but I did somehow understand that no matter what, all of this would be ok.

As that night turned into the next morning, I found myself being admitted for further testing and observation.  After several hours, and many tests, the doctors ruled out a stroke. However, by Friday afternoon I had been told that my MRA had shown a small brain aneurysm.  I needed another test.

So, we waited.  And waited some more.  It actually took until Saturday morning to get the next test completed.  And then, we waited some more.  Waiting is usually very, very hard for me.  However, this time, I just felt calm and peace.  I could do absolutely nothing but Stop.  But Pray.  But Listen.  And the funny thing is, the more that all of these things were my only option, the more I trusted.  Trusted in a God that was in control.

Late Saturday, the "Neuro Guys", as we affectionately called them came into my room. We had not expected to see them until Sunday morning. They were smiling. This was good. They showed us how the original MRA had found the aneurysm. Then they showed us how the new test did NOT show an aneurysm.  Praise God.

We now knew I did not have a stroke and I did not have an aneurysm.  Still, no one knew what I did have.  I was told they would check on me in the morning to see if my symptoms had improved, so just to try to rest.  I sent Ray Don home for the night to sleep in our own bed since the poor guy had been sleeping on a couch in my hospital room half the size of his body for the previous two nights.  I settled in for a night alone in the hospital room.

I realized a couple of things as I laid there in that dark and quiet room.  In twenty years of marriage I had never slept away from home by myself while my husband was at home with the kids.  Ironically though, I felt completely safe and at peace.

I still did not know what was wrong with me.  I still had numbness, heaviness, and tingling in my left arm.  I was still having some heaviness in my left eye socket. But, in spite of everything I didn't know, the things I did know were becoming so very clear to me as I laid there in that room alone.  I know that I have a Saviour that loves me more than I deserve. I have a God that was not surprised by me laying in that hospital bed in that very moment. I have a Creator that made every intricate part of me. And I choose to have faith in this same God that uses everything for His glory, for my good.  In this I can rest. I rested well Saturday night, truly not at all alone.

I woke up Sunday morning feeling so much better. My left arm was still a little "cold", but I could freely move it and the tingling was gone.  The heaviness around my eye socket was gone.  His mercies are new each morning.  After consulting with the Neuro Guys late Sunday afternoon, they felt I was not in any danger that would be caused by releasing me. (This could also be due to the fact that every part of my insides had been looked at and I was told I was one of the healthiest people they had seen in a while from the inside out.  Basically there was nothing left to test!)  In the end, it seems I may have had an extremely severe adverse reaction to a medication I had been given a few days before this.

I may never know exactly what happened. And, completely out of character for me, that is ok with me.

My family is experiencing a season of many things that we do not understand right now. Some of these things feel like we can't see an end in sight. These are the things I am struggling with saying it "is ok with me" just yet. But, God is patient. God is teaching me and molding me.  God loves my family more than I ever could.

God is good.  God has a plan.  God is faithful.  These are all things I do know.  And because these are truths I can rest in, I am slowly learning I can rest in them ALL the time...even in the back of an ambulance.





(I am participating in something called Walk with Him Wednesday's at the blog site A Holy Experience.  Please join Ann Voskamp and others for encouragement as we learn to walk this path of suffering together.)

Stupid Pumpkins

I woke up this morning truly missing writing.  I haven't written in this blog since the spring.  I haven't really even written in my journal for a month.  It may not seem like a big deal to some, but to anyone that journals your most personal prayers and writes for release you will understand.  I stopped early this morning and tried to figure out why.  As I did, oddly enough a very old memory came to mind.

One day in first grade my teacher, Mrs. Matthews, had given us a worksheet with pumpkins on them.  She had given verbal directions regarding the way we needed to color those pumpkins that had overridden the actual written directions on the paper as she passed them out.  I didn't know this because I wasn't listening.  I was too impatient.  As soon as I had the paper in front of me I read the directions and colored those pumpkins.  Row one - color two purple pumpkins. Row two - color four red pumpkins.  Row three - color one green pumpkin.

I was coloring beautifully, staying in the lines, so proud of myself.  Mrs. Matthews walked up to my desk, took the paper from me, gave me another worksheet and told me to "listen next time".  She walked away.  What?  What had I missed?  I looked around thinking she must be crazy.  Needless to say, since I had been so intent on following the paper in front of me instead of hearing the voice from across the room speaking to me explaining that she wanted all of the pumpkins simply colored orange for a cut and paste activity, I was lost.  So, in confusion, but with determination, I again picked up the purple, red, and green crayons and went to work.  I never even made it to row three this time.  Mrs. Matthews walked over, picked up the paper and said, "Kimberly, go sit in the hall.  Next time you might choose to listen so you will know what to do."

OK, sitting in the hall in the 'old days' was pretty harsh.  In elementary school every kid knew the principle walked the halls just waiting for kids to have to explain why they were outside the classroom instead of inside. I NEVER had to sit in the hall.  What was wrong with my teacher?  Did she not like me? All over some stupid pumpkins.

It makes me laugh that this story is the one that came to mind this morning. It is funny that something that happened 35 years ago can still come to mind as if it happened yesterday.  It's not so funny though how often I find myself living life like this, especially in seasons that are full of chaos, busyness, hardships, and uncertain future paths.

I find myself so busy trying to just get things done, just take care of those I love, just following the directions and expectations of myself and everyone around me that many times I forget the most important thing...

to listen...especially to the One that matters most.

I think this is why I have stopped writing.  You have to listen to hear...to hear yourself think, and most importantly to hear the Lord speak.  I have stopped being still enough and quiet enough to listen.  I have felt I haven't had time to write.  Or even worse, I haven't listened enough to even know what to write, and sometimes even pray.  I have stopped listening to a lot of things that really matter.  It is time to stop planning, stop doing, and just listen again.  

In the words of a very wise woman, "You have to choose to listen to know what to do."  

Oh, the things we can learn from a first grade teacher.

To See, To Serve, To Feel

"What do you want to do in light of what you've learned?"

This is a question on the last page of the Beth Moore study I have just completed on the book and life of James in the Bible (James:Mercy Triumphs).  What do I want to do in light of what I've learned?  The answer I wrote to that question was this:

 



I want the eyes of God, the hands of Christ, and the heartbeat of the Holy Spirit.







I want to see the broken and the poor the way God sees them.  As His beautiful children. I want to really see the needs of people that I simply drive or walk by every single day too busy and caught up in my own life to take the time to really look at them. I simply say, "Hi!  How are you today?" knowing full well that I will smile, make small talk, and possibly even move toward the door while talking because I am more worried about what I have to do next. Really? What is more important than the child of God that has been placed in front of me in that moment?  I am ashamed.

I want to serve the way Jesus, our Lord in flesh, served. He fed the poor, held the meek, comforted the broken, encouraged the downcast, touched the leper, and even washed the feet of his friends.  And yet, I have a hard time even thinking of getting out of my comfortable home to work in a comfortable ministry building on a Saturday morning to help feed the poor in my community.  I am lazy.

I want to grieve, rejoice, and delight in the things that grieve, rejoice, and delight the Holy Spirit.  I desperately want to be broken over the afflicted of the world to the point that it will make me take action in His name, all for His Glory.  I want to be so overflowing with gratitude in the Lord's triumphs that I sing and dance in freedom of His Goodness.  I want to be so in tune to the desires of His heart that I unmistakeably  hear, and  more importantly follow through on, His promptings to take part in the plans that have already been set out before me.  But, a lot of times, I am instead selfish.

These are all the things I want to do in light of what I learned from James, the half-brother of Jesus.  But, I can do none of these things.  However, my Lord can.

God, my Creator, can transform me to see the way He sees.

Jesus, my Savior, can teach me by his example to serve the way He serves.

Holy Spirit, my Comforter and Intercessor, can guide me by His promptings.

Thank you James for reminding me of the necessary "rubber meets the road" moments.  Thank you James for challenging me to pray hard, transforming prayers.  Thank you James for your devotion to our Savior and in turn, your example to me.  Thank you James, for encouraging me.  Thank you James for reminding me that although I may be ashamed, lazy, and selfish...most importantly...

I am forgiven.

Lord, continue to break me. Humble me. Use me. All for your Glory.

86,400 Moments

Every morning. Tick. Tick. Tick.  A little rhythm I hear as I rise each day by the seemingly small clock next to my bathroom sink.  Tick. Tick.  It's a subconscious reminder that a new day has begun.  Minute by minute. Second by second.

I have 86,400 seconds every single day to either use or waste, depending on the day and the perspective.
Tick. Time is so fleeting.  

However, as I woke this morning, there was just silence.  The seemingly insignificant little clock next to my sink was silent.  No sound. No rhythmical reminder that a new day is upon me.

As I woke from my sleepy fog and it began to register that something was quiet, too quiet, it took me aback to realize that something so seemingly small took me by such big surprise. The silence. It was almost uncomfortable.  I had this overwhelming desire to have to quickly make my way to the laundry room for a new, refreshed AA battery to replace the cavity holding the worn out, dead one.  There.  There it was again. Tick. Tick. Tick.  Steady.  Familiar.  Safe.

As I started to walk away from this small keeper-of-time, I began to realize how deeply I am desiring reminders of being alive at this point in my life!  Maybe it is my age.  I embraced 40 last year and as time keeps flying by I am reminded more and more of the words of James, Jesus' half-brother:

What is your life? You are a mist that appears for a little while and then vanishes. (James 4:14)

And the words of Job as he cried out in his afflictions:

Remember, O God, that my life is but a breath. (Job 7:7a)

Yes, the older I get, the more I realize these truths, and the more I crave to find ways to make time stand still.  This is probably why I am loving my newest interest and hobby of photography.  I can capture a moment and truly time can stand still.  For one second.  It is completely captured. One second, out of 86,400 in a day.  Or even better, one second out of 31,556,926 in a year.  Wow. Overwhelming. Overwhelming in good ways, and challenging ones.

Don't get me wrong, I am truly loving the age I am and the place God has me.  I am old enough to know better, and learned from the years where I didn't.  I love more freely because I am learning to embrace not caring as much what people think and working hard to value first the opinion of my Creator. I have lived long enough to know that I have to appreciate each moment.  Because they are gone, in a moment.  Each laugh. Each triumph.  Each challenge.  Each tear.  To appreciate each moment.  It is learned.

So, as time marches on, to the rhythm of a tick, tick, tick, I will rejoice in the moments.  I will choose to capture and freeze as many I can. I will choose to look forward to the next one.  I will choose to embrace the rhythm of the clock.  I will choose to rest in the very next verse in James (4:15):

Instead, you ought to say, "If it is the Lord's will, we will live and do this or that."


Let's see what the Lord has for our next 86,400 moments...tick, tick, tick. Lord willing... 

God's grace flows to open hands

Closed-fisted.  This is my general approach to life.  I enter each day tightly grasping on to the things I know.  The things I love.  The things I have.  All of these things only allowed to be mine by the grace of a loving God. And even then, never really mine at all.

This has been learned over 17 years of being a Christian.  And I am a slow learner. The older I get, the more I watch my younger children and long for the ability to rejoice in simple, untainted, faith. The kind of faith that has them pray with their hands open wide.  Open to blessings they believe in faith will be there.  They haven't yet been weathered by the storms.  Storms of broken families, broken people, and a broken world.

The storms.  They are there.  They come. Satan laughs in triumph when I close my fists and cling to what I have because I want to hang on to the little bit of good in today for fear of the storm of tomorrow. The Truths of scripture tell me better. But I still choose to keep my fists closed.  In pride.  I can do this. I can fix this.  I can control this.

I can't. So simple.  But so freeing.

I was talking to a friend this week and we were praying through some struggles in our lives. Struggles so familiar to us both.  And familiar to others I have spoken with.  It was freeing to be honest.  Honest about how insecure I am.  Honest about how much time I waste in this precious life worrying about what other people think.  Honest about the truth of this quote:

"If I focus on humility, I look inward to assess if I'm sufficiently humble, and in the very act, humility darts and I'm proud, self-focused.  It doesn't work." ~ Ann Voskamp

It is a struggle.  Pride.  Pride in self-sufficiency.  Pride in family.  Pride in talents. Just stupid pride. Where is the balance?  Where is the line drawn?

How do you find the difference in rejoicing in thankfulness for the provision the LORD has provided and not on your own means to provide? How do you rejoice in gratitude over the gift of family the LORD has given you without making your spouse, children or grandchildren idols?  How do you use your God-given talents for His glory in humility without it becoming a stumbling block for yourself?

I can't.  But the gift of daily grace for me can.  Thank you Lord for the gift of a new day.  Thank you for your mercy!

The faithful love of the LORD never ends! 
His mercies never cease.
Great is his faithfulness;
his mercies begin afresh each morning. ~ Lamentations 3:22-23


Thank you Jesus for your good and perfect gifts.  Thank you Jesus for the gift of children that can so vividly remind me how to love freely, laugh often, and pray in faith.  Thank you Jesus for the gifts you've given me (and every believer) that are to be used for your glory alone.  Thank you Jesus for conviction of heart, whether that comes from a small, sweet prompting or the spiteful words of another. I will choose to give you glory. All of this will break me to come to you and beg for humility of spirit.  Praise You for open hands!

You Alone are Good.









 

Darkness to Hope

Ever since I allowed myself to write a few days ago, I have been extremely weepy.  I have cried more the last few days than I have in 8 months.  I am crying at everything.  Happy tears. Sad tears.  Just because tears, which are maybe really cleansing tears.  I am realizing I am feeling again.  I think in a lot of areas I had been going through the motions of life for a while now, and didn't even realize it.  As I have been reflecting these last few days and allowing myself to embrace what it feels like to be emotionally raw, I have been shown scriptures that have to do with remembering.  God remembering his covenant with Noah through the symbol of a rainbow (Genesis 9:15). God commanding his people to "Remember that you were slaves in Egypt and that the Lord your God brought you out of there with a mighty hand and an outstretched arm." (Deuteronomy 5:15)  And as I've been reading this, I feel God calling me to do some remembering of my own.

There was another time in my life that was marked by a darkness.  It began shortly after the birth of our second son in 2000. I was completely blessed with two step-daughters that I gladly claimed as my own (the oldest lived with us), our seven year old son, and now our newborn baby boy.  We made the choice for me to have a tubal ligation during my last cesarean.  Our family was complete.  

However, within a month of having this sweet, baby boy my heart began to ache.  Truly ache for a little girl we would never have as husband and wife.  It became a completely frustrating situation.  I could not even begin to guess how many conversations I had initiated with my husband over that six year time frame about "never having a little girl" and all the things I would "never" do that ended up with me in tears.  He would just simply say with the saddest look in his eyes for me, "I'm sorry."  And that is where it would end.  It had to end there.  There were no options.  God, please just make this go away.  I am so selfish.

But, this feeling didn't go away.  And the more I prayed for God to relieve me of this overwhelming desire, the more suppressing it felt. I lived in a private world of complete heartache and isolation that I could not explain.  I didn't think I could share my emotions with anyone that I mourned the loss of a little girl that I never had.  Even the thought of it sounded ridiculous.  I was blessed with four children through marriage and births, and yet I was having nightmares about empty pink cribs. There were three different times over those years that I walked into the local grocery store only to leave a full basket of groceries and walk out in tears because I had been so overwhelmed by watching a mom push a little brown-haired girl in a cart while they giggled and smiled.  This same image was a frequent of my dreams at night.  It was always a brown-haired little girl. I could never see her face in my dreams, but I could always see that she had long brown hair, sometimes pulled up, and sometimes I would hear the sweetest, most infectious giggle as she threw her head back in joyous abandon while I smiled.  They felt so real. 

Then, finally. An answer, or so I thought. I had to have a complete hysterectomy in March of 2005. Relief and rest in knowing that the thoughts in the back of my mind to ask my husband to support me in a tubal reversal were gone.  No turning back now.  Right?  Wrong.  Again, the darkness quickly came back. 

I was so selfish. I had friends dealing with infertility, so what right at all did I have to desire more? What was wrong with me? Weren't my boys enough? That was the question I feared the most. I struggled to put into audible words what I was feeling for fear of this single question. Why weren't they enough?  

However, one moment can change everything. I hit a point where I could not breathe.  I finally cried out to my husband on that summer day in August of 2006 and through gasps for air and a flood of tears, I said out loud what I had been burdening alone for six years. I read him my journal entry from that day.  I don't think at first he knew what to do with me, let alone with what I was saying. I just knew I was to a point that he had to make it better.  He had to make me better.  He had to help me get out of this pain I had been carrying around in secret.  Even though I feared all of this probably made no sense to him at all, he had to do something.

He did.  God had prepared my precious husband's heart for this moment.  He stayed very calm and I could see in his eyes he understood.  He processed my cry for help for barely a moment, and then looked right at me and stated with the confidence and clarity that I so desperately needed, "We need to adopt a little girl." Wow.  Why had I not thought of that? That is honestly what I thought.  I am sure partly I thought this because in fourteen years of marriage, we had never talked about adoption, at least not for us.  Through all of the years of desolate heartache, I never allowed myself to think that we could adopt.  Why would I?  It made no sense with four kids (couples adopt that couldn't have children), where would the money come from (we already supported four kids), and we are older (at the time my sweet husband had barely turned 42 and our oldest daughter was married).  It didn't make sense.  But it did.  To God it did.  To God it always did.

You see, in that moment, God allowed a new journey to begin to overcome my darkness.  One that my husband, not me, would lead.  One that showed me in an instant how God had required me to carry an unrelenting burden for a little girl I did not know to force us to do something to "make me better" which in turn would lead us to her.  One that showed me that it was NEVER about my boys not being ENOUGH, but it was ALWAYS about the fact that our family really wasn't yet COMPLETE.  

Praise God for never forgetting us, and being willing to always remind us to remember Him. Always. In all things. Even the darkness.

And so, our journey to overcome this darkness began on August 19, 2006.  Little did we know at that time that our daughter was about to turn four months old.  

What a blessing it is to remember a journey from darkness to Hope...


PS~This is a re-post shared on Ann Voskamp's site A Holy Experience for Walk with Him Wednesdays.  Please join her and others for encouragement to find Joy during times of suffering.

Too long

My 5 year-old's reading lesson this week includes three new sight words...to, too, and two.  She understood the concept of two (the number) and to (in the direction of) pretty quickly.  It took a bit more to understand the word too.  Too - also or very.  As I was trying to give her examples of how to correctly use this word, I kept coming back to "too long" as in, "it has been too long since ____" and she would fill in the blank.  Later that evening, my mind kept coming back to that phrase.

It has been too long.  Too long for many things.  Too long since I have allowed myself the freedom to write in the quiet moments.  Too long since I have slowed down enough to appreciate the gray that is being added to mine and my husband's hair that represent wonderful years together.  Too long since I have sat back and just listened with contentment to my children laughing.  It has been too long since I have eagerly embraced whatever it is the Lord may be doing, knowing full well that we should count it all joy.  It has been too long since I have counted it all joy.

It has been almost a year since our family began a journey of new ministry, adoption, and surrender to whatever the Lord had planned on those journeys...with great excitement!  However, just because you seek hard after the Lord and follow Him, doesn't mean you are going to end up in the place you thought He was leading.  Excitement turned to heartache, overwhelming sadness, and a brokenness unlike anything experienced before in my life.  For too long there was a darkness over our home due to a failed adoption of a sibling group.  Friends and family did not know what to do with us during this time we now just simply call the "darkness."  So, instead of saying the wrong thing, they just didn't say anything at all.  We felt abandoned.  They felt abandoned.  Guilt is heavy. You get up every day and put one foot in front of the other because you have to not because you want to.  Darkness is thick.  Isolation results.  But then, in a moment where you feel your next breath just might not come, something happens.  Something stirs.  It comes in a whispered prayer from your broken husband late at night.  I didn't want to hear it because in that moment, months later, I realized I was mad.  At family.  At friends.  At God.  But, God loves me.  A God who won't relent.  Thank God.

After that late night prayer, for the first time in months, I reach for the Word.  This was my gift God gave me in that moment.  I reached for my phone on the bedside table as I begged God to let me know He had not forgotten me and saw me in my darkness.  I pushed a bible ap and the random reading for the day shows.  This is what it read (highlighted in yellow on my phone!) I am worn out from my groaning.  All night long I flood my bed with weeping and drench my couch with tears.  Psalm 6:6

God heard my prayer.  God had not forgotten me.  God saw me.  Even though it had been too long since I had trusted Him as the Sovereign God he is.  As I awoke the next morning, for the first time in months, I knelt beside my bed and prayed out to Him.  I could hear the pages of my bible turning on their own by the force of the fan while I talked to Jesus.  When I finished praying, in the middle of the page, already highlighted in my familiar worn yellow, were these verses - "But I trust in your unfailing love; my heart rejoices in your salvation.  I will sing to the Lord, for He has been good to me." Psalm 13:5-6  Restoration is such a beautiful, overwhelming thing.

God is Sovereign.  He can do what he wants in the way he chooses to do it.  But, it is all good.  It is all right.  It is all for our best.  It is all because He loves us so very much.  I am so incredibly humbled that the God who created the universe loves me enough to speak to me in my darkness even when it had been too long since my heart had been open to Him. 

Praise God that He doesn't consider it EVER too long.

Never underestimate the power of a water bottle

(I was just reminded of this writing from a couple of years ago.)

Have you ever had an argument with God?  I am ashamed to admit, my answer would have to be yes!  And unfortunately, this particular June day is a prime example.  

I started the day by running late to get my three year old princess to her parent’s day out so I could dive into the enormous list that had been leftover for two weeks.  Needless to say, my heart was not in a “God mood” at the moment.  But, it is so funny how God will meet you right at the moment you need him, whether you think you need Him at that moment or not!

After leaving the house at least fifteen minutes late, I noticed the “raggedy man” that puts business flyers on people’s doors in my neighborhood.  I had a heart twinge, but my phone rang and I soon forgot the man.  Upon arriving at Hope’s school, her teacher tells me that ‘water day’ was changed to today and since Hope was out sick on Tues, she did not get to tell me.  So, she now needed her swimsuit, towel, sunscreen, etc.  Not with any gentle spirit involved, I got back in my car and drove 10 minutes back to the house to get Hope’s necessary supplies, and again, passed the “raggedy man.”  After retrieving the necessary water gear, I got back in my car and this time, turned the radio up loud to praise and worship music to drown out the self serving thoughts that were consuming me by this point. You know, the “My day NEVER goes as planned; I am ALWAYS behind…waa-waa-waa!”  I once again passed the “raggedy man,” but this time, I turned down the radio a little because I found myself saying out loud, “Give him a water bottle?”

After delivering the water goodies to Hope’s teacher, I got back in the car, and this time God was saying very loudly, “Kim, when you get home I want you to get a water bottle and take it to the man you keep seeing.”  I start saying, out loud, “God, um, no! What would I say?”  (You know as women, we always think there would HAVE to be a conversation involved!)  As I turned onto the street that leads to my rear entry drive, THERE HE WAS!  I then found myself saying (again out loud), “Are you serious?  It’s just a water bottle! Come on, impact the Kingdom? Over a water bottle? God, if you want me to impact the Kingdom, shouldn’t I at least give him money for lunch?”  It was as if God was saying, “Good idea! Glad I thought of it!”  Then I found myself saying, “Well, I guess next you want me to invite him to church?”  God said, “Now you are getting the idea!” 

So, I literally pulled into my drive way, quickly announced to my 9 year that I would be right back ~ “I had to make a delivery for God!”  My 9 year old said, “OK.”  You know, I at least expected him to say, “Wow Mom, what are you doing?”  Oh well, so much for anyone else in my house enjoying a little drama.  Although, I do have hope for my 3 year old daughter!  Anyhow, I gathered up a cold water bottle from the fridge, cash from my “ice cream man” stash, and a card that we get each week from church to hand out to other people to invite them to come.  Imagine that God actually may have wanted me to have an opportunity to use one of these for someone other than my best friends!

As I was getting in my car, I began explaining to God, “I will do this. I don’t know what I am supposed to say (again the conversation issue worried me), but I will only do this if I come to the end of my alley and I see this “raggedy man” immediately.  Otherwise, I am so out of here!”  Do I even have to share what God did next?  Let’s just say, I didn’t even have to pull out on my street to see the man walking directly my way!  No turning back now!  I pulled up one street and parked my car.  I got out and said, “Sir.  Excuse me.” As he walked toward me, I then said with what sounded a little like nervous laryngitis, “You are going to think I’m crazy, but God told me to give you this water bottle and buy you lunch.”

I did not expect what happened next.  He took the three items from me…the water bottle filled with cool water, the money for food, and the little business card with our church’s information on it without hesitation, and looked me right in the eyes with tears and disbelief in his eyes and said, “God Bless You!”  I was speechless.  Standing in front of me was no longer the “raggedy man” that was sweaty, dirty, in soiled clothes, with dirty hair, and who definitely had less than the number of teeth that a person is meant to have.  Standing in front of me was a beautiful man that was created in God’s image. 

As I got back in my car, I watched him put the money in his wallet, look at the water bottle, and study the card regarding our church.  Then, while driving off, I rolled down my window and simply said, “God bless you and have a good day!”  I watched in my rear-view mirror, through my tears, this man, transformed in front of me, take that card and put it in his front left chest pocket and pat his pocket, as if to make sure it would not fall out.  I found myself in that moment thanking God for the delays of my morning because without them, this beautiful man would not have been put in front of me not once, not twice, not even three times, but FOUR times.  I would not have had the gift of being blessed in a way that I could never have imagined was going to happen on this very normal of mornings. 

I found out that God truly will give you the words, and courage, if you will just obey!  And it will be the perfect words, at the perfect time, in His perfect way. Even if the first words He has you say to someone are introducing yourself as a potential crazy person!  :)

[Details]

I haven't been sleeping well lately.  I have been restless.  I am not typically a person who dreams a lot in their sleep, but that has been different lately.  Last night is a good example.  I had a dream that I was in a dark room with a blanked out computer screen and the only thing I could see was a small word written in brackets at the bottom of the screen ~ [Details].  That's it.  What do you do with that?

 So, as I am reading the scriptures this morning and praying, I am still troubled by this dream.  Then it hits me, I am worrying that God is not going to provide the next steps for me in this new ministry my family and I have been called to be a part of.  I had a friend the other night look at me and say, "You are a planner aren't you?"  The answer was a definite yes.  I like plans.  I like calenders.  I love organizational things.  Honestly, I don't think I have purchased myself a new pair of shoes in over two years (I know, that is just sad) but I could go into an office supply store once a week and feel like I have had a shopping spree sent from heaven to buy new file folders and bright, new post-it notes!  (And don't even get me started on highlighters!  That is a separate blog entry in itself!)

Anyhow, he was right.  I am a planner.  There is something deeply wired within me that needs to know the details.  Who? What? When? Where? and most importantly, HOW?  Well, God has strategically positioned me in a place that I honestly have no idea the answer to almost all of those questions.  But He is growing my faith because he is faithful in not only knowing these things for me, but He is proving himself faithful in providing these things for me.

My family and two other families have been called into a position of serving this fatherless generation.  The last two months have literally been a whirlwind, unlike anything I have ever seen in my entire life.  Honestly, the only thing that comes remotely close to this was the 2 year process to adopt our youngest child, Hope.  There is such an overwhelming joy in being able to be confident in the fact that you are in the middle of God's will for your life, but there is such a struggle with this stupid flesh to be in control.  I want to be in control.  I want to be the author on this journey.

But, God is faithful to love me with patience and firmness.  He sure doesn't NEED us to carry out his plans, but how awesome is it that he WANTS to use us to carry out his plans?  It is really ironic.  I actually looked up the word brackets, because from my dream I wasn't as troubled by the word within the brackets as the brackets themselves.  This is what I found:

Square brackets – also called simply brackets (US) – are mainly used to enclose explanatory or missing material usually added by someone other than the original author, especially in quoted text.

Overwhelming.  The way I see it is this.  God is the ultimate original author.  He is the author of the beginning and the end, and obviously everything in between.  So, why in the world would I feel the need to add brackets and the details in between in this story being written by God?  God is in control of every little detail.  Even though he has been showing that, I am still carrying around my own brackets.  Needless to say, I have a little repenting to do, and then it is time to roll up my sleeves and put one more foot in front of the next to step out in faith and rejoice in the details being continually worked out for me.

No more brackets for me!  And I can end that with an exclamation mark! ~ This a reference to my last blog post...I am starting to see a trend with punctuation, and  I am beginning to wonder if this is as odd as the joy that office supplies bring me. ;-) 





 

When God says Go

There is a scripture I have been pondering recently.

Then I heard the voice of the Lord saying, "Whom shall I send? And who will go for us?"  And I said, "Here am I.  Send me!" ~ Isaiah 6:8

I am feeling a bit like Isaiah these days.  I am not saying in any way that I feel that I am a prophet.  What I am comparing is feeling a focused calling of the Lord on my life.  There was such an obedience in Isaiah when he was commissioned to be a prophet for the Lord, but in addition to obedience, there seemed to me to be excitement of things to come (notice the exclamation mark at the end of his declaration of "Send Me!" in my NIV translation).  Now the remainder of the book of Isaiah shares that the majority of the time that Isaiah shared the Lord's prophecies, they were met with resistance and rejection.  This doesn't seem to give a lot to be excited about.  But there can be great excitement in simply being obedient to your calling into service for our great God and knowing, no matter the cost, that the Lord is leading every step of the way.  Surrender is a very exciting place to be!

Far too often in my life I will feel what I call a "heart tug" by the Holy Spirit to move into action for the Lord, but instead of meeting that prompting with a response that can end with an exclamation mark, I turn from it, and sadly, do nothing.  Why?  Because it is easy.  Because I am lazy.  Because I have fear.  Because I worry what others will think.  Because I like my little life in this little box that I have created.  My prayers tend to reflect this theme.  "Lord, please protect my family..."  Why?  Jesus stepped out in ultimate humiliation and pain for us.  Why should I pray for protection?  Why not pray for the excitement to be radically used by Him to make a difference in this world for His glory?

There is a song I love that says, "You won't relent until you have it all.  My heart is yours." I am so thankful that my God will not relent and give up on me.  That He keeps chasing after me, until I am obedient and surrender.  So, this is where I am...

I choose to put my whole life in the Lord's hands.  I choose to allow this mighty God who created the whole universe and still knows every hair on my head to show me where He wants me. I choose to follow.  I choose to trust.  No matter the cost, I choose to Go! 

I have found my exclamation mark! 



 

And so it begins...

Every new endeavor always contains one thing ~ a beginning.  And this is exactly where I am.  The beginning of something new and exciting.  I have wanted to blog for a while now.  I am not really sure why.  I don't believe anything I have to say is any more important than what anyone else is saying.  I am not the best writer and am notorious for run on sentences.  I am just a wife and mother trying to live out this life one day at a time.  However, I do believe that God provides every single one of us a story.  A story that is meant to be shared.  This is the story of our life, and He is the author.  I am a continual blank page and if I stay at a place of openness and submission, it is amazing the crazy, good things He can come up with to fill the pages of my life.  Now, don't get me wrong, some of the stories that have been included in my almost 40 years of life (and yes, I am excited to say I get to turn 40 next month!) have been less than fun and most certainly not good, at least according to the world's standards.  But, I have faith in a God that works all things for the good of those who love him (Romans8:28).

So, I am excited to share this journey with you, and if you can, stop by from time to time.  I would love to share with you the adventures of our day to day life! I look forward to sharing the good days, which from a mom's point of view usually includes a day with no one sick, no toys stuffed in a toilet, and no blood.  But I also look forward to sharing the hard days.  Because actually, these are usually the ones that end up being considered the best days.  The hard days are the ones where we get great opportunities to press into our great God that much more! 

Well, it seems I have two kids that need expert architectural assistance at this time...there is some serious fort building going on in the other room!  So, until next time...


Kim