Adoption - The Rest of My Brother Story

As usual, when I write a post in which I feel I am completely undressing my heart publicly, I get an overwhelming response.  And I am undone.  Again and again.  His grace and His glory shine in the  vulnerable places...

Some of you would like to know more of the adoption story because you're on your own journey of Big Questions.  I will gladly share more of mine!

This little-brother-by-choice went off on his own.  He sought and found his birth mother, but that didn't work out in a way that anyone desired.  Understandably.  I grieved that she would feel she had failed her son twice.  I wish I could find her and tell her about grace.

We rarely knew where he was.  The nature of his disability is that it's very hard for him to hold down a job or function as a normal adult so he lives a transient life.  Because he's quite childlike, he's easily led.  This got him into trouble before and was the thing I dreaded most--that and the possibility he might be preyed upon by perverts.

Many nights I would lie awake and wonder where he was.  Alive or dead?  Hungry?  Safe?  I remember one night in particular...I could not sleep and tried to lift all my anxious thoughts in prayer.  I imagine that it reached the Father's ears in a cacophony of anxiety and fear mixed with genuine love.  I'm so grateful that He blows away the chaff of unbelief and gets to the heart of the longing.

The next day I got a phone call from my brother.  He was so excited to tell me how he'd been hitch-hiking in the middle of the night (that didn't calm my anxiety one bit!) and how the soles of his boots had fallen off and he was walking barefoot.  A trucker stopped to pick him up (my unbelieving heart leaped in fear again).  This trucker took him to a store (in the middle of the night?) and bought him new boots and a warm jacket.  Then he took him to KFC for a hot meal.  According to my brother, this man then "disappeared".  He was so excited about his new coat and boots--he hadn't a second thought for the mystery.  I could barely breathe and I certainly couldn't contain the flow of tears.  Man or angel, I know not.  This I do know:  my Father heard my prayers and He really, really wanted me to know that my love is but a drop in the ocean of His compassion!  I can trust Him to care for and watch over my broken brother.

I had a lot more peace about him after this.  My prayers held more faith and less fear.  I'm also very grateful that he calls from time-to-time.  Someone lets him use their phone to call and I get to hear his voice and have a general idea of his location.

In the summer of 2008 we were holidaying in the area where he was living.  I knew he had a job as a dishwasher in a road house.  I prayed he would call and he did so we made a plan to connect.  I wasn't absolutely sure he'd be there, but as we pulled into a dusty parking lot by a derelict road house, I saw a fellow that must be my brother.  He ran sobbing into my arms.  The emaciated, toothless, unwashed body held the heart of my little-boy brother seeking comfort.  Our tears mingled and that dusty corner became holy ground while my kids looked on in wonder.

We broke bread together in the road house.  A surreal experience.  It was a place unlike any other in which I'd ever eaten--I felt as though we were literally glowing in the dark.  I tried to absorb the fact that this man was the brother I hadn't seen for eighteen years.  All the while being mother to three kids who were trying to sort out this experience.  Was this man who looked unlike any they'd ever met really their uncle?  Why didn't he have teeth?  They tried to be polite and look away when he laughed in all the wrong places and talked way too loudly, but mostly they stared.  And he was delighted!  Delighted to be hosting his family.  He wanted to tell everyone I was his sister and he was an uncle and...and my heart ached because we all need to belong to somebody.

He was especially proud to introduce me to one of the waitresses.  Her face and her eyes were far older than her years.  She was tough, yet when she looked at my brother there was a motherly tenderness.  As she refilled my coffee cup, she rasped into my ear that she was happy to meet me and that I shouldn't worry as she was looking out for him.  I stopped to hug her long and hard when I left.

I could hardly stand to leave.  I longed to fatten him, put him in a shower, give him clean clothes...but he'd refused that kind of help.  I had to let go, recognize that I am not his rescuer.  Place him in the hands of my Father.  Trust.  And give thanks for mysterious truck drivers, crusty waitresses, "some guy" who's letting him stay in a cabin, for the knack he has with small engines, for a welfare system that does help those who simply cannot, for random phone calls, and most of all for a Father who never abandons the helpless.

Father to the fatherless,

defender of widows--

this is God, whose dwelling is holy.

God places the lonely in families;

he sets the prisoners free and gives them joy.

Psalm 68:5-6

Adopted

I was five when a baby boy was delivered to our door and I became big sister again.  I remember that day--so much excitement for a little girl.  I'd enjoyed our visits with the social worker and tried hard to appear the kind of girl that would make a good big sister.  Apparently, I had succeeded and now this squalling bundle was ours.  To keep!  He was ours and we were his.

Squall, he did!  A lot. There were some nasty marks on his little body too, not placed by love.  Everything about him called my fledgling feminine heart to nurture.  I loved him fiercely.  Surely enough loving nurture would heal it all.  That's what they told families in the early '70s.  Treat him like you treat your own and all will be well.

Of course, it became obvious before too long that this wasn't quite true--what could you do but keep on trying?   It was almost twenty years before adoption records were opened, testing done, and we learned new words like "fetal alcohol syndrome".  Too late for much intervention; small comfort that there was an explanation.

Now this boy was a man though his body contained a mind that had not properly developed to adulthood.  He carried our family name--a rare and unusual name in Canada--out into the world...and into the news.  The day I received the news was the only time in my life that I have literally wailed in anguish of heart.  I could not hold it in though others tried desperately to shush me.  All the years of trying.  All the grief over a child who didn't choose, but had a teen barely old enough to manage her own life devastate his with drug use. The pain had multiplied, reaching out to ravage others.

I was also ashamed.  That name in the news?  It was my name.  I was ashamed and at the same time ashamed of being ashamed.  My brave parents had bestowed their good name on a child in an act of love and it had been tarnished.  Rather publicly.  

I never think of this without thinking of the Good Name I've been given.  The Name that is above all names, granted to me with reckless abandon, without hesitation, with a furious love.  He adopted me, He chose me, and made me His own.  I am a child of God and I wear the name Christian.

This too has been awkward, as it associates me with those who claim the same name, but have used it to wreak war, havoc, and judgement.  I've barely done the name justice...  If He was unafraid to share His good name with the likes of me, what shall I do with it?  

Boldly declare that He is a God of fantastic love that embraces the weak and imperfect...  

Humbly extend the grace of His love that can never be earned, but is generously given...

Pray for those wounded by lies about His beautiful character...  

Seek opportunities to repair the breach. .. 

Be consumed by that Love.

So you have not received a spirit that makes you fearful slaves. 

Instead, you received God’s Spirit when he adopted you as his own children. 

Now we call him, “Abba, Father.”

Romans 8:15

How great is the love the Father has lavished on us,

that we should be called children of God!  And that is what we are!

1 John 3:1

I will be a Father to you,

and you will be my sons and daughters, says the Lord Almighty.

2 Corinthians 6:17-18

Who do You Smell Like?

I've been missing my friend Connie.  She moved this summer and I haven't seen her for a few months.  She taught piano lessons to my kids and I loved that we had a scheduled "check in". Just a moment in the doorway when we'd look into each other's eyes to see what really was the answer to, "How are you?"  We'd know.  Then we'd exchange a quick hug and I'd be off to make dinner and she to teach another lesson.

Later on I'd catch a whiff of her lovely perfume...I could smell a trace of her scent left on my clothing from our hug.  I loved it.  It's not so much that I loved the aroma as much as all the joy and affection that I associate with it.

Every single time this happened I would wonder what sort of scent I had been leaving behind...  Not literally--though I am fairly paranoid about body odour--but figuratively.  The answer to that question lies in what I've been soaking.

Some days it's the cesspool of self-pity or ingratitude.  I may as well get real--cesspool is just a fancy word for septic tank.  So if that's what I've been soaking in, I'm going to leave behind a, well, crappy scent.  You'll be so glad you hung out with me...or not.

If my heart has been bent toward gratitude, I'm likely to leave behind a much more pleasant scent.

There's a fragrance I want to leave more than any other...the essence of the incredible Love that has rescued me.  I want you to know that no matter how terrible your day has been, no matter the challenges you're facing, no matter how miserably you've failed...there is One whose arms are wide open, longing to pour healing and hope-filled Love into you.

His name is Jesus.

But thank God!

He...continues to lead us along in Christ's triumphal procession.

Now he uses us to spread the knowledge of Christ everywhere,

like a sweet perfume.

2 Corinthians 2:14 NLT

                                                                                                                                 

Crazy but True

She sits alone in the crowd.  All the other moms are in little groups, chatting.  She radiates isolation.    And I know.  I know.  

I've known isolation...and received healing Love that trumps the love of a hundred friends. I also know that this Love was made to pass on...sigh.  

I've said hello before and tried to strike up a conversation.  It was about as much fun as a tooth extraction.  I've done enough today.  Given all I have to give.  Jeepers, can't it be someone else's turn?  

These thoughts are pathetic at best... despicable really.  Jesus gave me Love that pulled me out of a pit of hopelessness and I must, must pass it on.  I'm compelled...not by a "should" but by gratitude.  But I'm not feeling it at the moment.

So I ask for the will, the want, from the One who promises to give "the desire and the power to do what pleases Him."  

How crazy is that??  He's lavished an incredible, extravagant, live-changing love on me.  I balk and whine about passing it on.  Rather than strike me with a cosmic lightening bolt, He offers to help me.  He grants desire and power to do what pleases Him.  

So many times I've thought He was angry with me, thought He'd rejected me because I couldn't get it right...and I couldn't have been more wrong.  He's there--ready, willing, eager to offer all the resources of heaven.

He's just waiting for my yes.  Yes, I'm willing to be made willing.

Sometimes His grace seems too amazing!  What can I do but fall more wildly, more crazily in love with Him?  

And greet a lonely stranger.  :-)

 “O Lord, there is no one like you. 

We have never even heard of another God like you!

1 Chronicles 17:20

Philippians  2:13

Overflowing Joy

"I have told you these things so that you will be filled with my joy.  Yes your joy will overflow!"

These words, surfacing over and over again in my thoughts, just savouring them making me feel joyful...  What precisely did he tell us so that we would be filled to overflowing with joy?

"I have loved you..remain in my love..."

He loves you.  Remain in--be vitally connected to--that love. Let His love be the source of your life.  Then you will overflow with joy...

As soon as the source of your life is the approval of others, the comfort of your circumstances, your sense of control over your life, the behavior of your children/siblings/friends...the joy begins to drain away.

Remain. Stay vitally connected to His love that never fails, is unconditional, that supersedes all circumstances...and your joy will overflow.  Meditate on His love.  Fill your mind with the truth that you can't earn it or lose it.  He loves you!

Knowing how loved we are takes the sting out of every rejection and failure.  Letting our thoughts dwell on that incredible love rather than all the he-said, she-said, what-if...and your joy will overflow.

He told us these things because He wanted us to be filled with His joy. 

John 15:9-11

For Wives Only

A beautiful friend is getting married soon.  As we who love her gather 'round to help her prepare, we are reminded of our own vows.  The promises we made.  The road we've travelled since.  Reminders are good.

I had an opportunity to speak a blessing at her wedding shower.  The words I was inspired to speak stirred my own heart, stirred others...perhaps you might be encouraged too?

When  God created Adam He said, “It is not good that man should be alone, I will make him an help meet for him.”

Not a “helpmeet”.  A help.  Meet for him.  Two words.  Describing words.

The Hebrew word that has been translated “help” is a beautiful word.  It doesn’t mean “picker-upper-of-dirty-socks or scullery maid” it means to “aid, succour, comfort”.  It is only used to describe a wife…and to describe the kind of help God gives.  Only.  Pretty powerful, isn’t it?

God will help you as you help your husband.  All the resources of heaven, yours.

The word “meet” is an old English word that means “suitable, fitting.”  So God designed a wife to be “just right” for her husband.  There may be days in which you wonder if you’re doing anything right…remember that when God created you He said you were just right.  Don’t be afraid.  Ask Him to help you be all that He created you to be.

More modern translations render this verse:  “The Lord God said, It is not good for the man to be alone.  I will make a helper who is just right for him.”

That’s you.


Anything else is a lie.  If you're feeling inadequate or like a miserable failure, lean into the arms of the Father and absorb His strength.  Look into His eyes and believe the promise.  Listen as He tells you that he made you just right for the job.  He will help you to be all He created you to be.


God said it is not good for your husband to be alone.  He made YOU a helper who is just right for him.

We put our hope in the Lord.

He is our help and shield.

In him our hearts rejoice,

for we trust in his holy name.

Psalm 33:20-21

Little Drummer Boy

We have a set of drums in the basement and mostly I don't mind.

This morning I was working in my (home) office when the silence was shattered.  After the initial shock wore off, I began to smile.  He was holding a steady rhythm, pounding out a sequence of sounds without missing a beat.  It didn't take much imagination to picture the concentration on his face--I know that look well.  After getting the beat established, he began to throw in extra bits.  I held my breath, wondering if he could maintain it.  He would be bursting with the joy of accomplishment if he could.  With a final crashing, triumphant riff he finished.  I loved it!  It was a joyful expression of his fierce little heart.

I was about to shout out my congratulations when I heard his sister wailing about the awful noise and how she couldn't concentrate!

I laughed out loud.  Oh, yes, I did!!

Two different perspectives.  Which one was he going to believe?

I reassured him that I was super impressed.  She chuffed and huffed about how she couldn't even think straight.

Who would you believe?

I'm not going to lie, I can be too aware of the opinions of others.  I have to be vigilant not to fall into the approval trap.  Criticism easily carries more weight than praise.

The opinions and responses of those around me can be motivated by a dozen different factors--perhaps more!  My Father is driven always and only by Love.

Who am I going to believe?

Does He see the efforts that others may only recognize as ho-hum or downright annoying as the beginnings of something great?  Could it be that He sees the heart of worship behind the less-than-perfect execution of the elements?  Is it possible that He doesn't compare us with anyone else because we're uniquely precious to Him?

I want to be tuned into the voice of the One who loves me most, who loves me perfectly.  I want to trust fully in His love.

We know how much God loves us,

and we have put our trust in his love.

God is love,

and all who live in love live in God,

and God lives in them.

1 John 4:16

Memory Lane

I stood in the card aisle wondering what on earth is wrong with me?  None of the cards said the right thing!  They must say the right thing for somebody…after all, they’re selling.  I finally found a good one and bought it.  Next day it dawned on me that it’s the same card I bought last year.  Clearly, Hallmark only has one writer that does “us.”  I’m going to save that card for a few years because neither one of us seem to remember things like we used to...  It’ll seem like a whole new card then!  

It's my mom's birthday.  I really want to bless her.  The best way I know to do that is to recount the best memories.  The ones that I pull out of my mental treasure chest from time to time.  I'll share some of those memories with you too and maybe it'll encourage you on your parenting journey...

First best memory:  Watching mom get ready to go on a date with Dad.  A little clutch purse I didn’t remember seeing before with makeup inside!  She didn’t wear makeup every day.  I remember standing with wide-eyed wonder, watching as she applied blue eye shadow and Coty lipstick.  It was so wonderful!  Mom was so excited and happy.  She taught me that day that going on a date with your husband is sort of sacred, worthy of time and effort.  Mom taught me that making yourself lovely is a gift to him and yourself.

A vivid, very precious memory is of one day after Kevin [my adoptive brother who has FAS] woke up from his nap.  He just wanted to lie on the floor with his face on Mom's rabbit-skin-slipper-clad feet.  We sat there quietly watching this sleepy little broken boy absorb comfort.  She taught me something about mother love that day that I could not describe in words, but that filled my heart right to the top.

And what’s a mother-daughter relationship without playing dressup with mom’s shoes and clothes…?  Dads are great for tickling and motorcycle rides, but they’re no use at all when it comes to developing a sense of style!

Which leads me to the memory of the day Mom took me to Halifax all by myself.  No siblings.  She let me ride the escalator up and down and then again.  We bought a little sweater with a girl blowing bubbles embroidered on the front.  I felt so special that day.  Every time I remember that day I remember the importance of slowing down and doing life at kid speed.

Mom taught me to love and appreciate nature.  So many memories of hiking and skiing and hunting mayflowers.  She showed me that a walk in the woods can be an act of worship.

The most important thing Mom taught me was, without question, to always, always turn to God.  Life can be rough.  Stuff happens.  It can come from all directions.  Always turn to God.  Always.

As I write a new chapter on the hearts of another generation, I realize that we moms can’t ever, won’t ever, get it all right.  What does matter is the love we’re writing on our children’s hearts.

Even though the number is taking some getting used to, today I shout out the joy, “My mom is 70!”  Here with us.  Still writing her story on our hearts.

Her children stand and bless her...

Proverbs 31:28a 

                                                                                          

Soft Answers

I'm not gonna lie.  I laughed out loud when I opened "Week 1, Day 2."

I speak soft answers

that turn away wrath,

not grievous words that stir up anger.

Much like I laughed on Friday when I mentioned that my throat was sore and my son immediately responded, "Well, it's not my fault you've been yelling at me so much!"

Definitely not your fault, Buddy, but you might have had something to do with it!  And "so much" is an exaggeration.

Clearly, I haven't been my usual calm and serene self of late.  (Cough, choke!)

I thought I was a really patient person before I had kids.  I've found this to be a common theme among parents.  Nothing can put patience to the test quite like Junior.  

Most often I find that my anger comes from the sense of not being in control.  The thing that makes it tricky is that most of what I want to control is really good stuff:  Being on time.  Finishing school in a reasonable amount of time.  No fighting.  Keeping mud on the doormat.  Getting the kids in bed before the evening is all gone.  It's not like I want to control the universe.  Okay, I do want to control my universe.  Is that such a bad thing?

"Let love be your highest goal!"

So there you have it.  My motives are out of whack.  When I'm angry love is not my highest goal.  All these things are worth aiming for but without love as the driving force, they're lacking.  I like the way the Amplified Bible renders this as "God's love in us."  I sure don't have it and can't always conjure it up on my own.  Love is the fruit of His Spirit working in us.  

Once again, I'm helpless, leaning into Him to receive all that I need...so I can give what I do not have.

I have to say that starting the day aware of the need for love as a goal made us alert to the "grievous words" that have been stirring up anger.  Thanks, little one, for the reminder.

Understand this, my dear brothers and sisters:  

You must all be quick to listen, slow to speak, slow to get angry.  

Human anger does not produce the righteousness God desires.  

Not in me.  Not in my kids.

Proverbs 15:1; 1 Corinthians 14:1; James 1:19-20

Do Not Be Afraid

Tangy apple frozen yoghurt tingled my tongue.  She added disgusting gummy worms to hers and told me who was doing and saying what at school.  I got the low down on what's really going on in town.  We moseyed on to the mall and looked at clothes--laughed at the ugly ones, bought some cute ones.  I said one thing, she thought I said another...unspeakable thing...and we laughed.  For a long time, we laughed and laughed.

I almost held my breath for the wonder of it.

When she was a toddler I cried and wondered if she'd hate me when she became a teenager...

She might if not for grace.

Her two-year-old temper sometimes terrified me.  I was afraid it was a sign I was a bad mother.  I was even more afraid that others would think it was a sign I was a bad mother.  This dangerous cocktail actually did make me a horrible mother some days.  I tried to control her.  Control is a love killer.  Especially is in a strong-willed, vibrant heart.

I loved her sparkling spirit as much as I was afraid of her temper!  I loved exploring and learning with her.  Seeing the world through her eyes brought a whole new dimension to mine.

Once in a while I would think this was a kid to whom I should offer choices...so I would offer the pink or green?  Others I respected told me this was such a bad idea.  I was failing to teach her authority.  I was afraid they were right and I was wrong.   Fear.  Lurking everywhere.

I would go back to control.  We'd both end up crying and angry.  Very angry.

I was really afraid that she would hate me some day.  Sure she did hate me on those days.

I knew parenting wasn't a popularity contest, but I knew this wasn't working either!  So we flip-flopped back and forth.  Fun and fear.  Fear and fun.

Along the way I learned some things.  What my heart told me wasn't all wrong.  Control would breed hatred. Choices would bring out strength in a leader-heart.   Choices have consequences which breed empowerment.  Control was easier in the short term.  Consequence is a patient teacher.

My guinea pig child.  She has borne the brunt of my learning curve.  Some days she still makes me feel crazy, but not often.  Many days I suspect I make her feel even crazier--hopefully, not too often.

I try to figure out how to inspire her to clean her room.  She tries to figure out how to disagree respectfully.

Yet we laugh together.  We really love each other.  We like each other too.  I'm filled with wonder and worship.

This is a gift.  A gift made possible by grace.  Amazing grace.

For every time we've fumbled...or outright blown it horribly...there's forgiveness and grace.

There's a big Love at work in our hearts.

I cannot, must not, will not, let fear live in this beautiful place.

I treasure this sensitive and spirited girl.

For all the years yet to come, there's grace.

The Lord who made you and helps you says:

Do not be afraid...

For I will pour out water to quench your thirst...

And I will pour out my Spirit on your descendants,

and my blessing on your children.

They will thrive like watered grass,

like willows on a riverbank.

Isaiah 44:2-4

Unscripted Romance

I'm not very good explaining why Valentine's Day isn't a really big deal for me.  It usually ends up coming across as a judgement on the way others do it.  Believe me, it's not!  I've thoroughly enjoyed everyone's romantic updates on Facebook.

You see, if I'd married a man who was a crazy romantic and loved setting up secret rendezvous and writing steamy sonnets, I'm sure I'd love it!  I'm very romantic at heart.  But I didn't.

When the honeymoon was over, I needed to learn to really love the good man I married.  The committed, for better or for worse, until death do us part, on good days and bad days, kind of love.  Yes, he needed to learn to love me in ways that are meaningful to me too--but I didn't/don't get to demand that or the timetable.

It was sometime during the years when all three of the kids were preschoolers (two still in diapers) and I a sleep-deprived wreck, that I realized I felt pretty despondent about the unromantic state of our matrimony.  Actually, there were times I felt downright angry and indignant.  I was trying so hard to do all the things I was supposed to do (according to the books I'd read) to keep up my end of the deal.  I could have listed all the things he wasn't doing that I thought he should have been doing.  This included being more "romantic."  He wasn't following my script.  At all.  The script seemed so reasonable to me.  It seemed others were following it.

I was offended.

Offended.  Not ticked or annoyed.  Offended.  In the core of me resentment and a sense of self-righteousness had taken root.  It doesn't take a genius to recognize this wasn't headed in a very good direction.  I felt a little terrified and helpless.

The kindness and patience of God is abundantly obvious to me because He speaks into the turbulence of our lives.  Maybe I was just uninformed.  Maybe we just have to learn some lessons through the process.  Whatever the case, it certainly wasn't out of my own wisdom that I figured out the key.  I needed to forgive him.  Not because he said sorry.  Perhaps he hadn't done anything wrong.  I needed to forgive because through pain and disappointment I had let offense take root in my heart.

I needed to forgive him for failing to meet my expectations.

I was really and truly afraid that by letting going of my expectations maybe I was letting him off the hook...losing control...and maybe somehow losing hope of him loving me in a way that felt meaningful to me.  I felt like I was letting go of some of my rights.  In a wild and reckless bid for freedom I chose forgiveness anyway.

I never said a word to him about it, but something changed, something shifted, in our marriage that day.   What I did was set him free to love me the way that had been in his heart to love me all along.  I think it may have become less intimidating to express love to me.  I was set free to recognize his love in ways I hadn't been able to before.

He is actually very romantic--it's just not according to the script and I was missing it all when I was angry.  I couldn't receive the gifts he was trying to give to me when my hands were full of my own expectations.

I read The Five Love Languages and began to make the translation from his love language to mine.  I've learned to see the way he immediately fixes a loose handle on a pot as an expression of tenderness.  When he builds something for our home his fingers are fashioning poetry in wood.  The twinkle in his eyes now speaks volumes to me--even when he doesn't have words.  I learned to choose to express love in ways that are meaningful to him and not just instinctive to me.  We're both still learning--'til death do us part.  Why don't they make movies about stuff like that?

I've had to lay down my expectations again and again, only to discover a hundred other ways he loves me.  Roses may not be delivered today because the calendar says he must or because I've badgered him into it, but someday when his heart tells him I need a boost he'll bring me a bouquet.  I'll feel like the luckiest woman alive.

He's a prince among men and I wouldn't trade him for anybody.

I have learned to truly love the person I married.

In fact, I'm crazy about him.

Place me like a seal over your heart, like a seal on your arm.

For love is as strong as death, its jealousy as enduring as the grave.

Love flashes like fire, the brightest kind of flame.

Many waters cannot quench love, nor can rivers drown it.

If a man tried to buy love with all his wealth,

his offer would be utterly scorned.

Song of Songs 8:6-7

We Did It!

Did you notice?  I've been so busy this week that I didn't realize it until this morning.  We survived January!  In fact, in many ways we thrived through January.  This seems worth making note of, even celebrating.  


Like the kids, standing tall, hoping the line behind the pantry door is higher than it was the last time we measured...  They're uninhibited in their joy over the increased height. Their growth brings joy to us because we love them!  Facilitating their healthy growth is one of the most important goals of our lives.  How much more our Heavenly Father?


So I look back and I can see growth and I'm excited!  I see my Papa smiling with me...  It's all by grace.  He's happy too...because all He's ever wanted to do is set us free and help us grow in freedom.  He wants to lend us His strength to conquer the giants we face.  I feel like we conquered January.  It was uphill some days.  For those of us who live well north of the 49th parallel there could be as much winter ahead of us as there is behind us, but there's a change in the air and the days are noticeably longer.  We'll make it.


We bring joy to His heart when we reach for and receive the gifts He's given.  You don't have to be getting every thing "right" today to make Him smile.  You just need to be reaching for Him in the midst of whatever you're facing...and one day soon you'll look back and see that you've grown.

 Don't bargain with God.  Be direct. Ask for what you need. 

This isn't a cat-and-mouse, hide-and-seek game we're in. 

 If your child asks for bread, do you trick him with sawdust? 

 If he asks for fish, do you scare him with a live snake on his plate?  

As bad as you are, you wouldn't think of such a thing. 

You're at least decent to your own children. 

So don't you think the God who conceived you in love will be even better?

Matthew 7:7-11 MSG

Huge Love

My prayer hasn't been answered.  A big one.  One that mattered so much to me, that I've invested my heart in for two years.  It's not a disaster--there's another answer--it just isn't the one I wanted, the one I asked for, the one I thought would be best.  I'm grieving a little...while giving thanks that there's another answer, a good one.

I've sort of wrestled all afternoon with the fact that I'm disappointed...feeling like I shouldn't be.  Silly woman.  Has God ever said anything other than, "Come unto me..."?  No disclaimer.  No, "get your act together" and then come.  No shame.  NO SHAME.  Ever.  Just come.

So I come.  And find rest.  I come and discover that He's not disappointed in me for feeling sad.  He's just full of love.  Love that's bigger than our prairie skies.  Deeper than the ocean.  It's a Love so huge that it invites trust.

Your unfailing love, O Lord, is as vast as the heavens;

Your faithfulness reaches beyond the clouds.

Your righteousness is like the mighty mountains,

your justice like the ocean depths...

How precious is your unfailing love, O God!

All humanity finds shelter in the shadow of your wings.

Psalm 36:5-7

Out of the Mire

I just got so GRUMPY this afternoon.

I don't even know why.  Maybe it's all the constant noise.  Or hormones.  Or the relentless chores, the stupid, ever-multiplying dust bunnies. Lack of sleep?  Lack of Vitamin D? It doesn't even matter.  The fact  is that something was sucking me into a pit, a mire of misery.

That mire was strangely alluring and I could almost believe that if I just let myself go there for a while and rest, I might even feel better...  In fact, I probably deserved to settle there for a while.  Perhaps I'd even earned it.

Lie.  Definitely a lie.  I've been there before.  The misery multiplies and innocent bystanders get muck on them.

A walk!  Yes, a walk often does wonders when I feel this way...but the wind is blowing 50 mph and my world is coated in a glare of ice...  The quicksand gave another heave, threatening even more powerfully to suck me in.

Thankful.  Yes, I know that I know that I know that gratitude is key.  I tried.  But it felt forced and fake even though I knew in my head that I was absolutely thankful for many things.

This struggle called for rest, actually.  Not rest in the mire though.  I put on my favorite love songs.  The ones that remind me of the greatness of the perfect love of my Father.  I rested there.  Soaked up that love.  Sighed out the weariness.  I gathered strength.

Then I found my son who absolutely and truly had been a pain in the...neck...most of the morning and I hugged and tickled him. Because he's worth it.

I made myself look straight into the eyes of the little one who quietly doesn't miss anything, who knew exactly what had been going on, and I smiled.  Real, genuine smile.  Because she's very, very precious.

I took a deep breath and chose love for the one who'd been acting so junior high, because she's a great kid and I want to keep the lines of communication open.  And because of the One who has given me such an abundance of love when I've been acting so...like I act sometimes.

Mire has never taken me there--it just messes with my relationships. Love will.  It never fails, it never gives up, it never runs out.  Honestly, apart from His love and grace, I'm incapable of anything other than sinking into that mire of self-pity.  I'm so thankful for His love.  So thankful that He pours it out lavishly, never annoyed that I need it again.  So thankful that He gives an abundance--enough to pass on.

And so faith, hope and love abide

[faith--conviction and belief respecting man's relation to God and divine things;

hope--joyful and confident expectation of eternal salvation;

love--true affection for God and man, growing out of God's love for and in us],

these three;

but the greatest of these is love.

1 Corinthians 13:13 AMP

Silence

"But oh!  God is in his holy Temple!

Quiet everyone--a holy silence.

Listen!"

Taking some time for silence this weekend.  Choosing to be quiet so I can listen.

Praying that you too can find silence, that you can hear your Father whispering of His love for you.  He is not silent.

 "But I will reveal my name to my people,

and they will come to know its power.

Then at last they will recognize that 

I am the one who speaks to them."

Habakuk 2:20; Isaiah 52:6

Writing in Pencil

I hate New Years' Resolutions.

It's not that I don't like goals...in fact, I'm quite goal-oriented by nature.  There's just something about New Years' resolutions that irk me.  They stress me out.  We joke about how predictably easy they are to break.  I get this feeling when I make them that somehow achieving them is a key to happiness. 

I was really, really good at setting goals and achieving them precisely on time and in the way I had planned...before I had children. 

Then I had kids.

They had absolutely no regard for the fact that I had a goal of exercising every day so I could lose ten pounds by the end of February.  Just when I was finally exercising they would need me.  It was so inconvenient.  I would grow resentful.

I would resolve to read a certain amount of scripture every day and then find myself shrieking at them for interrupting me.  Don't worry--the irony of that was not lost on me.

The problem wasn't and isn't in setting the goals...we must aim in a certain direction to get there!  The problem is when those goals are elevated above love.

"Most of all, 

love each other as if your life depended on it.

Love makes up for practically anything."

My kids are older now and don't have "potty accidents" anymore, but they still need me.  My days inevitably contain things unscheduled and beyond my control--such as the lesson given while I was in the middle of writing this on How to Remove Ketchup from the Carpet.  I often struggle with frustration at these moments.

So I'm only making one resolution:  I resolve to love as if my life depends on it.  A resolution I can't possibly keep on my own, but I have a Backer.

I'm counting on love making up for "practically anything."  That love will matter more and make all the difference in those places where my life doesn't look as neat and tidy as it would in my imaginary world where I control everything.

I'm still planning on exercising regularly and cutting out those late afternoon potato chips.  I want to work on a writing project and finally make curtains for the guest room.

I'm still making plans--I'm just writing them in pencil.

1 Peter 4:8 MSG

His Delight

"Where is another God like you...you delight in showing unfailing love."

You delight in showing unfailing love.

I have yet to plumb the depths of this mystery.  When I fail I'm so overcome with sadness.  I'm sure He's not thrilled either...just as I am not when my children make poor choices.  In that sadness it never crosses my mind that He delights in showing me unfailing love.  I get that He forgives me.  That He is good and has made a way for my redemption.  But delight?

Delight is defined as "a high degree of gratification, joy, something that gives great pleasure."

I think I've pictured Him as sort of patient, kind, and definitely long-suffering as He grants me forgiveness (again!).  Meditating on this verse is further revising the picture in my mind.

This verse is referring specifically to forgiveness of sin.  It goes on:

"Once again you will have compassion on us.  You will trample our sins under your feet and throw them into the depths of the ocean!"

Yes, His Spirit brings conviction.  It's good, so good, to recognize the need of repentance.

Some, at this point, may picture anger on His face.  Some may see kindness, long-suffering, or even benevolence.  Delight?

He has joy at our repentance.  The price has already been paid for our transgression and He delights in offering that gift to us.  It gives Him great joy!  His arms are thrown wide open, He's running to meet us, He's ready to throw a party!  Not because we've sinned, but because we've sought restoration.

Can you picture Him scooping you up into a big bear hug with a rumble of joy-laughter in His chest?

He delights in showing His unfailing love.


Micah 7:18-19

Banner of Love

"He brought me to the banqueting house, and his banner over me was love..."

A banner is a flag that identifies an army--it tells for whom the soldiers fight.  The one that He carried in His fight for us identified Him as fighting for love.  Not for dominance--His desire was not to suppress us, enslave us, or force us under His authority.  He fought for the sake of love...to set us free.  So that He could bring us into His "banqueting house"--the place of abundance where all our needs are met.

He humbled Himself and came as a baby in a manger...under a banner of love.  He walked dusty roads of human discomfort and sorrow...under a banner of love.  He healed, taught and fed the hungry...under a banner of love.  He willingly endured agony unto death on a cross...under a banner of love.  

He now sits at the right hand of the Father and the banner is still waving...and He's inviting you and me to come and sit and feast at His table.  To taste of His love and freedom.  I see Him calling the weak and the weary and the wounded to come and savour His goodness, to be healed and refreshed.  

Come, sit under His banner of love. 

Song of Songs 2:4

According to Your Word

I was awake in the wee hours of this morning...staring into the darkness...remembering the previous day...realizing once again that I have room to grown in love.  The sigh goes deep because this is not a new revelation.  It takes some time to accept the grace offered.

Growing in this love is no self-help job.  It's bigger than that.  I wonder at the how...and I remember the words of a young woman spoken 2,000 years ago, "But how can this happen?"

An angel told her, "The Holy Spirit will come upon you, and the power of the Most High will overshadow you..."  There it is.  Only by the power of the Holy Spirit can a holy thing be born in me.

The requirement of the maiden was her consent, "Be it unto me according to thy word."  The willingness to let Him work in her life, to fill her with His life.  "God...working in you, giving you the desire and the power to do what pleases him."

Be it unto me according to your word.  Come, Holy Spirit, and overshadow me.

The rain and snow come down from the heavens

and stay on the ground to water the earth.

They cause the grain to grow,

producing seed for the farmer and bread for the hungry.

It is the same with my word.

I send it out and it always produces fruit.

It will accomplish all I want it to,

and it will prosper everywhere I send it.

You will live in joy and peace.

Isaiah 55:10-12a

Luke 2
Philippians 2:13

Christmas Surprises

Sometimes they're the best of buddies, off on an adventure, and the rest of the world is excluded from the mysteries of their schemes.  Other days it seems all he does is push her buttons.  She shrieks at the slightest provocation.  He's sure that she thinks he's stupid.  She's sure he's always planning on wrecking her stuff.  Lord help us all if either enters the other's room without permission!!

The quarrelling wears on my heart and in the busyness of these recent days I've been quick to react to their petty squabbles, sighing and wondering when they're going to learn not to react to the slightest instigation.

Today a little warmth seeped into my heart...

He bought her a gift.  It's perfect.  Shiny, sparkly, purple, and he knows she going to love it.  She knows he got something for her and went to the calendar to count, and recount, the number of days she has to wait to receive it.  He can't wait to give it to her.  She can't wait to open it.  She smiles her quiet smile because she's just so happy knowing that he has a gift for her.  

He wrapped it awkwardly, cleverly disguising it, delighting in the thought of how she'll love it.  This affection between then makes me laugh out loud and some of the busy tension seeps out of my shoulders.

It's about the waiting for the coming of the gift--the advent.  That is the glorious tension of these days.  The longing and the yearning to give the gift.  The knowing that the gift is coming.  The waiting.  The utter confidence that the gift is on it's way.  The anticipation.

No eye has seen, no ear has heard,

and no mind has imagined

what God has prepared for those who love him.

1 Corinthians 2:9