Summer Writing 2 : When I think I Can’t

July 3, 2019July 3, 2019 / walkingthisjourneysite / Leave a comment

There are days … moments … seasons … when I think I can’t …

I can’t face one more day.

I can’t face the night.

I can’t face one more meltdown…

Not one more rage…

Not one more demand on my exhausted mind and body.

I can’t face one more feeling of isolation.

I can’t face one more season of loneliness.

I can’t face one more trial borne alone on my weary shoulders.

I can’t face one more …

Have you experienced this as well?

When everything inside of you is screaming that you simply can’t … ?

It is a feeling I know well.

This morning I woke feeling just as fatigued as when I went to bed the night before.

We are in break weeks, which I shared about here, Summer Writing and I make no apology for the overwhelmed, exhausted place I am in. It goes with my journey.

I am human. The road is challenging. I am pouring out constantly. Little is coming back in. My cup is mostly empty. My strength depleted. It is hard to face the demands of another day. Sometimes, I feel like I can’t.

I recognize these times in life as crossroads. The road is definitely going a certain direction, but at various points, it splits and I must choose, which path I will go.

photo of pathway surrounded by fir trees

Photo by James Wheeler on Pexels.com

To the untrained eye, the paths look relatively the same. But to the pilgrim who has journeyed this way before, there is more than meets the eye. The one path is the way of righteousness. It is the path that Christ Himself walked. It is the path of trust and surrender. It is the way of sacrifice. It is the path that has little appeal to most who pass this way because it is not the easy way.

The second path is the way of self. It is a much broader path than the other and considerably more alluring. It appears as being a more level path but it gradually slopes downward, while the other rises above. On this path, companions, such as Self-Pity and Self-Indulgence, run wild and free, ready to lead you further than you may want to go.

To the one who is familiar with the snares the enemy uses, there arises inside a warning cry not to follow that second path. It looks harmless at onset, but many a pilgrim has gone that way, never to be seen again. They become lost and they spend the remainder of their lives wandering aimlessly, never moving forward. Never rising above. Some have taken that path only to recognize their mistake. The journey back to the path of righteousness is often particularly arduous and difficult and rarely does a person make it without some scars.

I stood in the quiet this morning, once again facing the crossroad that is particularly common on my journey. The words ‘I can’t do this’ echoed in my thoughts and my foes, Resentfulness and Self-Pity, stood ready nearby to entice me down the path of self.

But as I stood there, I remembered all the times the Lord had been faithful as He led me on the paths of righteousness. I remembered the battles hard-fought and won. I thought of the incomprehensible peace that has been a part of my life because of following Him.

So when the whisper, “I can’t do this” came once more, I whispered back …

“You’re right. I can’t.”

“But He can.”

The Lord is my shepherd,
I shall not want.
He makes me lie down in green pastures;
He leads me beside quiet waters.
He restores my soul;
He guides me in the ^[c]paths of righteousness
For His name’s sake.

Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death,
I fear no evil, for You are with me;
Your rod and Your staff, they comfort me.
You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies;
You have anointed my head with oil;
My cup overflows.
Surely goodness and lovingkindness will follow me all the days of my life,
And I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever.
Psalm 23

Summer Writing

July 3, 2019July 3, 2019 / walkingthisjourneysite / 2 Comments

Summer.

Thoughts of summer tend to inspire all kinds of images, memories, dreams, and plans.

Just this morning, while the rest of my family slumbered peacefully as I weeded flower beds outside, I was reminded of my own childhood summers. I would often sleep in and when I finally stumbled down the stairs, the house would be quiet … my mother no where to be seen. Yet, all I had to do was look out the back patio door and there I would usually find her, bent over, pulling weeds from the garden. Back then I thought that the most terrible thing … working outside in the garden during those lazy early summer mornings.

Now, I see it differently.

I couldn’t wait to get outside this morning and even though I was quite weary and the temperatures already warm, I eagerly embraced the task of weeding my own flower beds.

Time has a way of adjusting our perspectives, doesn’t it?

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I’ve been thinking about perspectives quite a bit lately. And writing.

Summer too. Oh, and homeschooling. Autism. Family. Relationships. Personalities.

Children. Hurt feelings. Misunderstandings and feeling left out. Faith.

The current culture. The future.

So basically … life.

My oldest son, who is 18 and has severe autism, is currently on break from school. There are those who are critical of this kind of honesty, but I can readily admit these are some of the most challenging days of the year for me personally. When he is home, my radar is on 24/7 and it doesn’t take long for me to experience a certain level of burn-out as he begins to break down from the extended break in his routine.

It is a balancing act trying to keep him busy and productive without overstimulating him with too much activity, changes, and demands. What an entire team of professionals do during a single day cannot be replicated by one weary mother who is balancing some extreme autistic behaviors, the needs of other children, and many diverse tasks and responsibilities.

During this burning-out phase, parts of my brain tend to slow or even shut down so that other parts can continue to function. My thinking and overall reaction time slows, while my stress response actually quickens. I sleep more but never feel rested. I enter the familiar realm of survival.

It is what it is.

Typically in the days before I begin burning out, I write more. I share little stories or the day’s events on social media. I take more pictures. It is a desperate attempt to reach out and connect because I am always afraid of getting lost in this world of survival. I focus and share on the positives, wanting others to see and experience the smallest of steps of our journey. Then suddenly, a switch flips and everything changes.

There is a hazy fog that fills me until I can only see the very next step ahead of me…

And sometimes not even that.

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This morning, I stepped outside into the quiet morning air with my coffee in one hand and my gardening gloves in the other. I pushed the wheelbarrow over and then slowly, methodically began to weed my flower bed. I would stop to sip my coffee and look around me before reaching back down for another invasive weed. I contemplated both the beauty of the flowers and the quiet … and the One who created it all … and what all influences our perceptions.

When I was young, weeding a garden in the early morning hours when I could be sleeping, was unthinkable. Now, it is a time to gather strength. A time to be alone in the silence and talk with my Savior. A time to listen to His instruction.

My perception of pulling weeds, and pretty much everything else, has changed over time. The way I understand life and perceive it have altered considerably through life experiences, a deepening walk with God, a transforming worldview based on the truth of Scripture, trials, and the resulting maturity.

There is little that I see the same as when I was a child.

As it should be.

The difficulties of my youth, the things I cried into my pillow about, now seem less significant in the light of more recent heartaches.

Yet, to the naive child I was, those heartaches were deep and real. I would never go back to that child and tell her that her tears were silly. I would never tell her other people’s problems are more important than hers. No, if I could go back, I would wipe her tears, teach her more about the Savior, walk with her through the heartaches, talk to her about making wise decisions, and then encourage her to see and reach out to the heartaches around her.

To the young woman who was so desperate to be loved that she hinged her entire identity on it, I would never dismiss her fears. I would wrap my arms around her and direct her back to the One whose very love redeemed her and fills her life with more purpose and identity that she could possibly imagine. I would encourage her to deepen and strengthen her walk with Christ before even considering dating or marriage. I would caution her to seek Christ first and to make wise decisions.

To the married woman in a broken relationship, longing for a baby of her own, I would never make light of her desire for motherhood or the brokenness she was experiencing. I would sit beside her, wipe away her tears, pray with her, and encourage her to love the children that are already in her life. Invest in them, trust the Lord for her own future, learn the process of contentment, make wise decisions, and above all else, look to Christ first in all things.

You see, hindsight makes me look at all the various difficult seasons in my life very differently. Because of the journey I have been on and the countless ways I have see God work on my behalf over many years, I understand things differently now. But, I had to walk through all the very real and very hard things to learn this about Him. The child I was could never begin to understand what I know now … nor could the woman I was five years ago.

My perception has changed and therefore how I respond to life has changed.

“When I was a child, I talked like a child, I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child. When I became a man, I put the ways of childhood behind me.”
1 Corinthians 13:11

One time I was asked by a person in ministry, who was walking through a very hard season in life, how I handle it when people complain to me about things that seem trivial in comparison to my journey. Does it bother me? I thought for a moment and then answered honestly that it used to bother me. When a young mother would complain about her baby waking in the night or how tired she was, my insides would scoff as I thought about the years of sleep deprivation I have experienced …

But then I grew up.

I matured in my faith and I began to recognize the purpose of my trials and the strength of my Savior. He developed in me an empathy and deep compassion for people and more than anything, this has deepened into a desire to be an encouragement to others.

So now when a young mother mentions how tired she is and then apologizes as she realizes how weary I am, I try to be quick to reassure her. Her fatigue is very real. Just because I am weary from years and years of sleep deprivation, does not make her any less weary. It doesn’t make her fatigue any less important. I always try to validate her and then encourage her that it is simply part of the journey and the Lord who walks with her can be her source of strength on the most weary of days and nights. I want her to look to Jesus in the difficult times, as well as, the good.

Why else has God brought me through all these years if not to point others to Him?

A young mother’s perception of the early days of motherhood will adjust and change over time. The present season we are in is usually the hardest season because we are learning and growing just as our children are.

The same is true for our fellow believers who are walking through life, with difficulties big or small. I don’t get to determine the size of someone’s struggle or trial … I do not know their life experiences nor the depth of their faith. I do not know know how they perceive life and I cannot expect them to view their difficulty through the same perception I have. I can only love them, point them to Jesus, speak the truth from Scriptures, challenge them to make wise decisions, and pray that their faith would grow as they walk through whatever season of difficulty they are facing.

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As I pulled the weeds from my garden this morning, I asked the Father to pull the weeds of sin from my own life and to continue to grow and strengthen me even as the hazy fog of survival mode threatens to overwhelm me. All I could hear in the silence was to continue to look to Him in all things, practice contentment, make wise decisions, show myself some grace, and write … write what I have learned and trust to be true.

The truths that strengthen me during some of the most wearying days of the year.

So, I offer to you my summer writing … because of Him.

Set like Flint

June 27, 2019June 28, 2019 / walkingthisjourneysite / Leave a comment

“For the Lord God helps Me, therefore, I am not disgraced; Therefore, I have set My face like flint, and I know that I shall not be ashamed.”
Isaiah 50:7

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

I can’t tell you how many years I have begged God to change certain circumstances in my life. I don’t want to tell you how long I lamented those circumstances when they did not change and simply grew more difficult as years went by. When seasons of heartache last upwards of 20 years and some 35 years and beyond, one grows weary.

By last fall, I found myself teetering on the edge of despair.

Overwhelmed by the isolation of the storms, weakened by the longevity, and discouraged by the lack of growth, help, intervention, and relationship.

Disquieted because of what seemed as silence from the heavens above in the ongoing midst of these trials.

My nature tends to be more quiet and reserved. Life experience on top of my personal nature has caused me to become more observant and introspective as time goes by. I understand that some people don’t like this about me. I rarely respond as others seem to expect me to and frankly, I no longer even try to. My soul runs deep but I am mostly gentle and simple at heart. I am loyal until betrayed and intensely protective of those I love. Contention, strife, game-playing, blame-shifting … these are all enemies of my soul.

I have been, unfortunately, the ultimate people-pleaser.

And this has gotten me into considerable trouble.

For much of my life, my identity was based on what I heard and perceived from others.

I gathered all the words and perceptions and I built my identity on them.

Not only that, but I carried them throughout my life.

A whole bunch of crap, tied up in a burlap bag, and strapped to my shoulders.

It was a life built on a shaky foundation.

A foundation that I knew God was systematically dismantling, but I admit that I was not fully aware that He was also in the process of rebuilding…

A new foundation grounded in truth and on Christ alone.

A foundation tested and tried because of the very trials I despised.

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Over the last number of years, my studies have often been directed towards certain portions of the Bible over and over. Passages that the Lord knew I needed to grasp in order to change and grow within my circumstances. For a long time, the writings of James and Paul consumed my studies as I sought to understand the purpose of trials and sufferings. Instead of fighting against God in these storms, I needed to learn to walk through them in His strength and leading.

Then 1 Corinthians 13 became a focused part of my pondering and studies. Learning to love others as Christ loves us is often spoken of loftily and easily. The reality is that it is a brutal process of dying to self and learning to seek the good of others before my own. This just does not come easily to any of us, no matter how much we like to pretend it does.

More recently, Hebrews 11 has been the focus and I have to admit, I have not always appreciated this part of my studies. Specifically because these tremendous people of faith died, never getting a happy end to their story.

“All these died in faith, without receiving the promises,
but having seen them and welcomed them from a distance,
and having confessed that they were strangers and exiles on the earth.”
Hebrews 11:13

This bothered me, to be honest, because I wanted a guarantee that I would have a happy ending here on earth.

The beauty of what is commonly known as the ‘Faith’ chapter is that these warriors of the faith, lived and died (sometimes horribly), not seeing the purpose of their sufferings and trials, yet remaining solid and true until the very end. Their reward was not known to them on this side of eternity.

This has become achingly beautiful to me over time. Living a life of faith and complete dependence on God, without ever knowing relief nor the reason until eternity. These are my heroes. These are my examples. These are the ones I turn to when I grow weary in this journey. These are the cloud of witnesses the writer of Hebrews tells us about:

“Therefore, since we have so great a cloud of witness surrounding us, let us also lay aside every encumbrance and the sin which so easily entangles us, and let us run with endurance the race that is set before us, fixing our eyes on Jesus, the author and perfecter of faith, who for the joy set before Him, endured the cross, despising the shame, and has set down at the right hand of the throne of God. For consider Him who has endured such hostility by sinners against Himself, so that you will not grow weary and lose heart.”
Hebrews 12:1-3

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Last week, I experienced something that has led to all these rambling thoughts. An out-of-the-blue, random, and somewhat public attack on my character.

I was startled and taken aback.

Imagine it like this … envision a woman walking along her life’s journey, neither perfect nor without sin, yet minding her own business and simply accomplishing the tasks before her, when suddenly … randomly … someone hiding behind some shrubbery, hurls a rock in her direction. A rock written with words seemingly intent to inflict harm.

The rock itself doesn’t hurt badly because it was thrown at a distance but still, it stings a little. She finds herself knocked a bit off balance by the surprise of the attack. Stunned by the words written on it.

She knew who threw the rock but still she looked around to see who was watching.

Would anyone come to her defense?

Had they seen the words?

Would they believe them?

She slowly reached down and picked up the rock and as she stood back up holding it, she looked directly at the thrower.

Yes, I see your words and I see you. I see more than you realize.

And then, unsure how to respond, she turned away and continued walking because her journey doesn’t stop simply because someone else chooses to throw stones.

But she was still carrying that rock.

So what do you do with it?

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I have watched a considerable amount of stone-throwing in my lifetime.

Now, just to be clear, I am not talking about confronting a believer with the truth in Scriptures as a means of restoring them to righteousness. That is speaking truth, even though it may come across as hurtful, for someone’s good. It is not stone-throwing. What I am referring to is the intentional (or sometimes even unintentional) use of words that harm or destroy a person’s character, testimony, or their emotional state.

So again I ask, what do you do if you are on the receiving end?

Well, perhaps you are like me. I used to gather everything that was said or that I thought had been said, and I carried them across my shoulders. Not only that, but I would look at them all the time … and I believed them. Those rocks were my identity. I chose those words over Christ.

Thank you Jesus for the cross and that I no longer have to carry that burden. I still do sometimes because it is so familiar to me … but I am free to not do so.

Perhaps you are much more likely to respond quickly in anger, grabbing that stone before it can even touch the ground and hurling back towards the other person.

Matter of fact, there is a good chance you are able to grab a few extra stones lying around to send flying along as well.

Because they deserve it, of course.

Maybe your anger doesn’t ignite that quickly but tends to simmer over time. Eventually, the stones inspire a deep root of bitterness that seeps out through passive-aggressive, snide comments.

How dare they? Don’t they realize how much I have done for them? They owe me. I’m the victim here.

Of course, sometimes we are too intimidated or maybe just unsure how to respond so we bottle it up inside until we explode onto some unfortunate, innocent soul who is completely in the dark.

Children, spouse, random grocery store clerk …

All of these are common, instinctive responses and yet, none of them are right.

None are healthy.

None are righteous.

None follow the example of the Savior, who although completely innocent and pure (unlike you and me), stood silent before his accusers. Nor does it follow the examples of the cloud of witnesses given to us in the book of Hebrews.

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I knelt alone, still holding that stone and reading those words.

Feeling a bit dejected and unsure …

But mostly I felt alone.

But yet, I wasn’t. My Savior stood beside me. The very one who set his face as flint as He stood unashamed before His accusers. The very one who was the only innocent person to ever walk this earth and the only one without sin.

My Savior and my example.

He stood in the silence with me until I handed Him the stone and asked Him to show me what to do. I know I am capable of any of the typical responses but I wanted His help.

Once in His hands, the truth became clear.

The words spoken of me were not true.

Neither were they my identity.

I began to understand anew the purpose of the trials, the trust that can arise from the deepest places of despair, the strength that grows from endurance, and the value of a solid new foundation grounded in the truth of a Savior.

“Everyone then who hears these words of mine and does them will be like a wise man who built his house on the rock. And the rain fell, and the floods came, and the winds blew and beat on that house, but it did not fall, because it had been founded on the rock. And everyone who hears these words of mine and does not do them will be like a foolish man who built his house on the sand. And the rain fell, and the floods came, and the winds blew and beat against that house, and it fell, and great was the fall of it.”
Matthew 7:24-27

You know,there is an interesting thing that can happen when you give an ugly stone that was intended to harm you to Jesus. In my hands, that stone would only continue to be ugly and harmful, whether towards myself or others. But in His hands, those words become meaningless and the ugliness of the rock transforms into a bright and shining pebble, which He carefully places to create beauty along my pathway.

Each stone serves as a reminder of who I am in Christ.

Photo by Quang Nguyen Vinh on Pexels.com

Trust

May 19, 2019May 19, 2019 / walkingthisjourneysite / 2 Comments

I heard the first sniffle but decided to ignore it.

As well as the second … and the third.

These sniffles are often a precursor to an explosion but I was hoping that wouldn’t be the case this time.

It was late. I was tired.

I didn’t want to do this.

In fact, I said that to my son … “Please, let’s not do this tonight.”

But, for some reason, the computer he was using would not connect to the internet, which meant he could not watch the YouTube videos he fixates on.

Which means … his button got pushed.

And before long, those sniffles led to the explosion I feared … an especially ugly one.

I am not especially skilled in technology but over the years, since I have a son with autism who is obsessed with technology, I have gained a certain amount of knowledge. Given some time, I can usually problem-solve and determine if it is a problem I can fix, if I need to call tech support, or if I actually need to take the computer somewhere for service.

On this night I struggled to problem solve but found it impossible given the behaviors and noise level. My ears were ringing from the noise, my body fatigued from the day, and my head aching from the unintentional blow to the face when I got in the way of a flying elbow.

I was sure it might be an easy fix but I just could not figure it out and given my son’s loud behaviors, I couldn’t risk calling tech support for guidance.

I tried to calm my son. I tried to explain that if he would just calm down, I could call and get help but as long as he screamed, I was not able to call.

I couldn’t begin to fix the problem as long as he continued in his behaviors.

He raged on.

He asked for ‘Internet’ over and over and over again.

But he would not do what was needed in order for me to address the problem.

I tried explaining that only that one computer wouldn’t connect to the internet. He still had his I Pad and he could use my lap top. There were options.

But he would not listen to the other options available to him.

He was just too angry to listen. Too determined to have things be a certain way.

Finally, I sent him to his ‘calm-down’ chair. It is simply a set place to get himself together … calm down … get behaviors under control.

When he finally reached a point of hovering just under the crisis line, I sank into my own ‘calming down’ spot and began to plead with the Lord. “Please Lord, I can’t do this again. Could you just make that computer work so we could have peace tonight?”

Oh how I long for peace.

But I’ve been down this road before and I know that God doesn’t smooth the way out for me very often. Usually there is something to learn … something for me to teach my son … a connection that needs made … a skill to develop.

So, I followed up my plea with, “But Lord, if that peace and an easy answer isn’t what you have for us tonight, then please guide me in what to do … and provide the grace and strength that is needed.”

Because I was fresh out.

My son stayed just below the crisis point but still fixated on the uncooperative computer.

I mostly stayed silent because I knew he wasn’t ready to listen.

But I watched and waited … wondering how the night would play out and mentally steeling myself for a disrupted night of sleep.

He finally reached a point of coping by accepting my computer as a temporary replacement. I placed it beside his computer so he could still sit at his desk and watch his videos.

Yes, he was coping with the situation … but he was still obsessing.

Trying to control and determined how things should be … but not trusting.

Not trusting the woman who protects and looks out for him every moment of the day.

Not trusting the one who has guided him through many a trial and challenge.

Not trusting the one who loves him most dearly.

Choosing to rage and stomp in anger … instead of trusting.

As a mother who is generally patient and compassionate, it was enough to irritate me.

“Honestly,” I told the Lord, “if he would just listen and trust me, life wouldn’t have to be this stressful.”

My son has autism and his obsessive, controlling nature is part of it … but it is also part of his sin nature. He is determined for things to be a certain way. He is also very smart and able to learn … but we still have to walk through these behaviors almost every time something happens to disrupt his sense of control.

As his mother, I long for him to simply turn to me and allow me to walk him through the challenges of this life without all the drama and anger. I love this young man and I work constantly to teach him the needed skills to live the freest and fullest life possible.

His autism is not his greatest obstacle … his anger and need for control is.

Friend, you likely do not have autism, but I wonder if you can relate to my son’s struggle?

I know I can.

I want life to be a certain way. To look a certain way.

There are certain things that I want to be in place so I feel safe and loved.

I don’t like disruptions and truthfully, I really hate it when I am reminded that I am not in control.

However, how we respond in the challenges, disruptions, and crises of life is a pretty clear indicator of our level of trust in the Lord.

Are our responses similar to those of my son? Do we fly into an immediate rage and stomp about in anger? Do we panic and assume the worst is about to happen? Do we seek control over others and the situation? Do we rant and destroy others with our tongues in this place of anger or fear?

As our Father in heaven watches, what do our responses to these temporal situations tell Him? I wonder if He feels the same frustration I sometimes feel with my son?

The same grief as I watch him struggle with the same thing over and over?

The same desire to see freedom and growth?

I have spent a lot of time over the years pondering my relationship with my son and my relationship with God the Father. But this week, I considered how deeply I long for my son to trust me fully. To rest in my care and guidance. And I had to ask myself, how much more does God the Father desire for me to trust Him in all things? To rest in His sovereign care and guidance?

I work to be a good and Godly mother to my children but my best efforts will always be tarnished by sin. But God’s love is holy and pure, untouched by sin.

“If you then, being evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your Father in heaven give what is good to those who ask him!”
Matthew 7:11

My thoughts on this topic are still developing so I am sure what I have written is a bit jumbled. But I will share anyways because I wonder if this line of thought might also be helpful for someone else? Maybe it would be helpful to consider how you respond when life gets disrupted and seems to spin out of your control? Perhaps it would be good to ask the Lord how responsive you are to His leading and discipline? How obedient to His call? How trusting of His guidance and plans for your life?

What a gracious and long-suffering Father He is.

Finding Rest in the Lonely Journey

March 16, 2019 / walkingthisjourneysite / 2 Comments

If the Lord sets you to guard a lonely post in perfect stillness from all active work, you ought to be just as content as to be in the midst of the active warfare. It is no virtue to love the Master’s work better than the Master’s will.
Hannah Whitall Smith

It’s been awhile since I have written here because my life has been a whirlwind for the last several months. A whirlwind of challenge after challenge and while I do have blog posts started and others floating around in my mind, this really isn’t one of them.

One thing I have learned about myself is that I have thinking seasons when I am battling through the challenges of life and learning about God and His ways and then I enter processing seasons when I can articulate those musings in writing.

This season of challenge started last fall when my son with autism entered one of his more difficult times of intense anxiety and anger. Coping with that personally, while desperately trying to help him, homeschooling my other children, teaching a homeschool co-op class, and trying to keep everything as stable as possible for my family as a whole, took a serious toll on me. Those I turned to for help didn’t seem to understand the depth of the struggle so I worked through it alone, realizing the greatest loneliness of my life.

In November, I injured my knee and that, compounded with a shoulder injury that happened in August when my 200+ lb son had a massive meltdown on one of our walks, and a strong negative reaction to medication I was taking, knocked me down even more. Physically, I have always been very strong and able to withstand and rebound from almost anything, but this time, I found myself in constant pain and not recovering well at all.

December eventually brought relief for my son as his doctor added a new anxiety medicine and he began to smile once more. What a blessed reprieve that was for everyone and I found my own spirits lifting somewhat as a result of not dealing with his intense anger issues day after day.

January and February were filled with school closings and delays for my oldest son and this created a fair amount of disruption and schedule changes for him, my other children’s homeschooling and co-op, and for me as I had to cancel quite a bit on my calendar and work in my cleaning jobs days when I could.

When I accepted that the knee pain was not going away and was limiting what I could do, I visited my doctor and learned that a ligament was stretched and inflammed and the meniscus were likely torn. This led to wearing a knee brace and taking inflammatory medication for two weeks, which helped the inflammed ligament but not the torn meniscus. I found this out the hard way when I was walking across the parking lot of our local grocery store and my leg completely gave out and cramped up so badly, I couldn’t move or put any weight on it. I had to call my husband to come pick me up, drive me back across the parking lot to my van so I could drive it back home (using my right, uninjured knee of course). I was completely incapacitated for a couple of days and could only move around using crutches and eventually a cane. I eventually saw an orthopedic doctor who gave me a cortisone shot, which provided significant relief allowing me to cautiously return to most of my activities, including regular exercise.

When I went in for my physical earlier this week, my doctor and I discussed the likelihood of future surgery for my knee and she determined that my left shoulder has a strained and inflammed rotator cuff. I didn’t bother to mention the discomfort I woke up with in my right shoulder because I figured I had only slept on it wrong and it would soon work itself out.

Boy, was I wrong!

By that evening, I was in agony. A throbbing pain in my right shoulder that kept me awake all night as I struggled in vain to find a position that would allow me enough comfort to rest. In the morning, I didn’t say anything to anyone but silently dealt with the pain as I got my son with autism off to school, my other children started on their day, and prepared to finally be able to attend a ladies Bible study at our church. I felt very rough but figured the pain in my shoulder would eventually have to ease. I was only at Bible study a short time before I received a text that I was needed at home so I swallowed my disappointment and left. I am so glad I did. The pain in my shoulder began to spread down my arm and throughout my right side, as my fingers tingled and grew numb. By that evening, I noticed a couple of odd spots on my wrist and hand and experienced some of the most intense pain of my life, while my body responded with a low-grade fever.

To my dismay, the next day I was diagnosed with shingles. A illness I had previously believed only affected folks much older than I. My family was very surprised when I shared this news and admitted to how much pain I was in but now they have watched the rash/blisters spread and seen my lips whiten with pain when I attempt to do certain tasks. They are stepping up to help as much as possible.

So, here I am this morning … the shingles have not responded to the medication as I had hoped and I am still in significant discomfort. My right hand (and arm up to my elbow) is covered in a painful rash and only my index finger tip has been spared, allowing me to slowly peck away at these words. My shoulder and ribs still ache from the pain but thankfully, it is nothing like it was earlier this week. I am exhausted from the toll this illness has taken on me, as well as, from my own sleep disturbances and those of my son.

However, what I have learned from each ugly battle of this long season of trial more than makes up for any hardship. The Lord has been so gracious every step of the way and I have learned more from Him than ever before. It has been a journey of settling into my own identity, following His voice, letting go of the past, walking in Truth, and practicing contentment in every circumstance. As a result, I feel more loved and cared for by Him than ever before, which allows me to love and care for others more freely than ever before. My relationship with my children, most especially, has blossomed even more abundantly.

I have learned the beautiful gift of prayer and surrender. I have learned that it is a privilege to lift the names and burdens of others to this Shepherd who walks with me and, as a result of my own trials, I have learned a greater compassion for those who suffer far more than I.

I have also learned that I have nothing to prove and it is okay to walk alone.

It has been a lonely journey but, through it all, I have learned to rest.

To rest physically with awareness of my own needs…

To rest inwardly with the practice of contentment in all things…

And ultimately, to rest fully in the safety of my Savior’s love.

“Contentment, then, is the product of a heart resting in God. It is the soul’s enjoyment of that peace that passes all understanding. It is the outcome of my will being brought into subjection to the Divine will. It is the blessed assurance that God does all things well, and is, even now, making all things work together for my ultimate good.”
A.W. Pink

The Faithfulness of God

January 27, 2019January 29, 2019 / walkingthisjourneysite / Leave a comment

The Faithfulness of God.

Such a deep well from which to draw, knowing full well I will barely touch the surface.

Yet, a drink from this well is not meant to quench our thirst but rather it should draw us to toss the bucket aside and jump fully into the limitless supply.

His faithfulness has no bounds. His goodness has no limits. His grace overflows.

Even in the hard seasons.

I will say, most especially in the hard seasons.

Those times when it seems that God is nowhere to be found. When it seems that our prayers are not being heard and our tears have evaporated before they even touched the ground. When we simply cannot see God anywhere and we feel isolated and broken.

In those times, when circumstances insinuate that God does not care and we do not know which way to turn, I believe we have a few choices.

We can give into despair and believe that God has forsaken us.

We can create our own path and justify what we want in order to convince ourselves and others that God only wants us to be happy and therefore we are free to do whatever it is we want to make our lives ‘easier.’

Or … we can diligently spend time with God our Father by consistently reading and meditating on His Word with the clear intention of getting to know Him instead of picking and choosing Scripture to fit what we want. We can apply our time in prayer as we learn to discern the voice of our Shepherd. Then we can make the daily choice to pick up our cross and follow Him and in this process, we begin to die to self, learn to be content in all things, and ultimately, choose to obey and follow His will … and not our own.

The first choice leads to defeat and a sad, empty life.

The second choice certainly may lead to temporary happiness as we elevate ourselves and indulge in all the riches of this world while still using all the right Christian words to sound holy. The problem with this is that it is truly temporary and terribly short-sighted. What makes me happy now, will lead to trouble later.

I can eat an entire 5 lb box of chocolate now because it makes me happy.

But there will be a cost to pay later.

The third choice may mean limited earthly happiness. Choosing to follow the example of Christ and dying to self is hard and rarely does it mean getting what I think I need to be happy. It means taking my eyes off of myself and my needs and it means opening myself to hardship and trial for the cause of Christ. This is where His faithfulness becomes real and the depths of His love supplies every need. This path of obedience requires a heart and eye for eternity, understanding the promise of God may not be given to us until we cross the threshold of eternity and kneel before our Creator.

Only one of these choices lead towards an eternal reward.

The Trials of Yesterdays

When I used to think back to the days when my children were young, I always felt a sense of guilt and failure. Those were hard years raising three little ones while walking through the many difficulties and challenges of autism, depression, isolation, marital discord, family trouble, and more. My perception of the past altered my memories and distorted my current sense of identity.

I believed myself to be a terrible mother. A failure.

A couple of weeks ago, I was searching for some important paperwork that I could not find anywhere and in fact, had not seen in years. After searching through every place I could imagine, I finally thought about those boxes in the attic. Those boxes that have been dodged through every purging and organizing frenzy. Those boxes that rarely get a passing glance from me as I carry various other items in and out of the attic space. Those boxes, filled with pictures and various memories, that signified to me, my complete failure as a mother and person.

However, desperation to find the missing paperwork and a sense that God was calling me to face those boxes, led me to finally start carrying them down from the attic and begin the slow process of sorting, organizing, and looking at these memories of the past.

Initially, I was overwhelmed with sadness. My perception of the past has been so colored with certain memories I have held tightly onto that I simply could not see the reality. But the Lord, with the utmost gentleness and care, began a healing process in the deepest places of this mother’s heart. In almost all of the pictures of my children, I found smiles. There are pictures of my oldest looking sober and somewhat vacant as the autism stole more and more of him away but for the most part, the pictures showed children happy and content. My younger children would look over my shoulder as I worked through the pictures and would share happy memories with me. As I continued I found picture after picture drawn by my children that read ‘I love you Mommy!’ Pictures that I had saved but didn’t remember saving. I began to realize that my children do not remember how hard those years were. Their memories were never distorted or broken as mine have been. As a result, they have never viewed me as I have viewed me. My children have never thought of me as a failure. I am the only one who believed that.

As I worked through the memories of the past, the Lord began to change my perception of those years. Oh, most definitely, if I could only go back, there is much I would do differently. I would hold them more. I would teach them better. I would do almost everything differently for my son with autism. But, the Lord began to help me see that even during those trying times, He was working. Even when I thought He had abandoned me and my children, He was behind the scenes and faithfully filling in the gaps that were being missed.

In the last box of pictures, I found a photo that someone took of me and my children. I have no memory of who took the picture or why it was taken but when I uncovered it, tears filled my eyes as my soul swelled with thankfulness. The photo was taken in the nursery of the church we were attending at the time. I am kneeling on the floor holding a felt board I had bought in an effort to teach my non-verbal, highly visual autistic son Bible stories. All three of my very young children are across from me in various stages of busyness … and I remembered.

I remembered that there was no place for my incredibly busy autistic son in the other Sunday School classes and no nursery for my younger ones. So every Sunday, I would prepare a lesson and try to teach them myself. After Sunday School, we would go upstairs for the service where I sat every single Sunday back in the cry-room with my children because my oldest couldn’t handle sitting out in the service.

Most would not be aware of this, but that picture was taken as I was in the process of emotionally and mentally crashing beneath an unbearable load. This is a season of life that I’ve always looked back on with sorrow. I would have told you that I ruined my children.

Yet now, when I look at that picture and others with my children, I see the amazing faithfulness of a loving God who preserved both me and my children through some soul-crushing circumstances.

Where the enemy sought to destroy, God protected.

When I had given up, God refused to let us go.

When I ran from Him, God followed and brought me back.

When others deserted me and even spoke against me, God never left my side.

When I couldn’t see the next step ahead of me, God gave me the courage and just enough strength to take the next single step. And then the next. And the next.

When I was weak, God taught me faithfulness and credited it to me as righteousness.

You see, the faithfulness of God is not dependent on us getting everything just right. He does not call us to do life perfectly but He does call each of us to die to ourselves, pick up our crosses, and be obedient to the calling He has given us.

When I look back now, I see the hand of God working through all those fiery trials and challenges.

I can trace His rainbow through my tears.

I can see that He was in control.

And my heart is thankful.

His Faithfulness Today

This morning, as I finish writing these thoughts and try to bring this to a thoughtful conclusion, I am weary. My almost 18 year old son with autism woke in the night with a sense of agitation. I have been walking this journey a long time and often, the days (and nights) are still filled with difficulty. But even when the way is rocky, I continue to learn a complete dependence on the steady, never-changing faithfulness of God.

Hebrews 11 provides us with so many examples of those who have gone on before and how they lived a life of steady faith and reliance on God with the understanding that they might not see His promises fulfilled until eternity. They trusted in the faithfulness of God and their own testimonies of faith that developed through their trials should be a resounding battle cry to us to never give up and to never take the easy way.

I have seen the fruit of God’s working in my children in these most recent years. While my younger two children asked Jesus into their hearts when they were younger, just last year I watched God do a work in my oldest and I was able to finally lead him to Jesus. A long-awaited answer to a prayer that was silently and tearfully given for years. I am watching this same young man continue to struggle through the strong challenges of his autism yet, I am also watching him learn and grow in new ways. My younger children have developed a heart of compassion and a hunger for truth. They enjoy being involved with our church and are appreciative of Biblical teaching. Just in these last couple of weeks, both have individually told me that they are so glad I am their Mom. They live a life of simple appreciation for all things. They regularly practice contentment. They teach me daily even as I endeavor to teach them.

I am humbled to be their mother.

As I write these words and ponder these thoughts, I can only lift my eyes to the One who has consistently loved, protected, and led us through all of these years … and offer a song of thanksgiving to our Faithful God.

He is so faithful.

This my song through endless ages, Jesus led me all the way.

He lowers us to raise us
So we can sing His praises
Whatever is His way all is well

He makes us rich and poor
That we might trust Him more
Whatever is His way all is well

All my changes come from Him He who never changes
I’m held firm in the grasp of the Rock of all the ages

All is well with my soul
He is God in control
I know not all His plans
But I know I’m in His hands

*Photo credit to my son, Andrew Shenk
**I have alluded to a number of songs in this post including:
All the way my Savior leads me by Fanny Crosby
All is Well by Robin Mark
Oh Love that will not let me go by George Matheson

Don’t Open that Box

January 6, 2019January 6, 2019 / walkingthisjourneysite / Leave a comment

JUGGLING

I think most of us know the feeling. It often seems as though our days are spent juggling all the various responsibilities, obligations, needs, and concerns in life. Oh I know, the balls that we juggle as women all look different and yet, there is a similarity between us. It takes constant thought, constant movement, constant recalculating to keep all of those balls, all the responsibilities we have, moving and not dropping to the ground.

But what happens when someone randomly tosses another ball in our direction? Maybe it isn’t even a ball that can be juggled.

A massive, heavy anvil comes to mind. Or a cannonball.

It completely knocks everything out of kilter. The balls go flying in every direction as we struggle to catch and carry a burden that is much too heavy.

Absolute chaos.

This happened to me a few months ago.

I am, like most of you, a woman who carries heavy responsibilities and concerns. I was already juggling some heavy issues, on top of the regular day to day stuff, all the while looking ahead and planning for a number of significant issues concerning my son with autism in the upcoming week.

I had been, to put it mildly, feeling rather stressed, yet I was also systematically and prayerfully managing.

Until that moment. Just as I had sent my oldest son off to school and was scurrying about trying to get the rest of us out the door to our homeschool co-op meeting, my husband randomly threw an anvil of potential bad news my way.

Wait, what?

Did you hear that?

It was the crashing sound of all those juggling balls as they flew out of my hands so I could catch that heavy weight of bad news.

It really was not the best time to tell me this kind of news.

Especially since it was purely speculation at that point.

However, I asked a couple of questions for clarification and then I proceeded to hastily gather all the scattered balls and carried them, along with the added weight of the potential bad news, as I hurried out the door.

It was a challenge. I had lost my rhythm. The balls, which I had been carefully balancing and juggling, now felt disorganized and disproportionate. My mind raced as I tried to frantically consider what I might need to do in the event this bad news became reality. My fears were triggered and life suddenly went from mildly overwhelming to a tidal wave of completely overwhelming anxiety.

“For this reason I say to you, do not be worried about your life, as to what you will eat or what you will drink; nor for your body, as to what you will put on. Is not life more than food, and the body more than clothing? Look at the birds of the ^[c]air, that they do not sow, nor reap nor gather into barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not worth much more than they? And who of you by being worried can add a single hour to his life? And why are you worried about clothing? Observe how the lilies of the field grow; they do not toil nor do they spin, yet I say to you that not even Solomon in all his glory clothed himself like one of these. But if God so clothes the grass of the field, which is alive today and tomorrow is thrown into the furnace, will He not much more clothe you? You of little faith! Do not worry then, saying, ‘What will we eat?’ or ‘What will we drink?’ or ‘What will we wear for clothing?’ For the Gentiles eagerly seek all these things; for your heavenly Father knows that you need all these things.”
Matthew 6:25-32

ANXIETY

I carried that added heavy weight through the morning, along with the accompanying worry and anxiety, until I was able to call a trusted friend who reminded me that my upcoming week was already filled with numerous challenges and tasks that required all of my attention and focus. These were real issues that were happening right now , not speculation nor gossip, and most importantly, these were issues that I could definitely do something about and for which I was responsible.

The potential bad news that I had been given was not definite — it was purely speculation and I would not even know for weeks whether it would come to fruition or not. On top of that, it was an issue for which I was not responsible — so why carry the heavy weight of it which would hinder my ability to work in the areas of life for which I was responsible?

I never did start juggling all those balls again because, as it turns out, I don’t know how to juggle. I also did not pick up and carry that heavy anvil of bad news either.

Let me try to explain.

BOXES

In front of us, on a daily basis, are always a certain set of boxes. These boxes are filled with our daily responsibilities, tasks, and obligations. These boxes are always open and always on our minds as we actively approach those responsibilities every day — no matter what.

Sometimes, we may get handed a different box, sometimes just for a day, sometimes for a season. This could be a cancer diagnosis, aging parents, or a friend simply needing to talk. I tend to view these as from the Lord and seek to adjust my day and my plans to accommodate these needs as they are placed before me.

Sometimes, however, people may hand me a box that is not mine to carry. It may be a case of it not being the right time for that box to be given to me. It may be that the person handing over the box is simply being selfish and wanting me to carry their box for them. In these cases, that box becomes a burden. A burden that distracts me from focusing on the boxes that need my immediate attention … the boxes filled with my personal responsibilities.

As I looked at that heavy burden of potential bad news, I visualized stepping aside and watching the Lord as He placed it inside of a box, closed the lid , and set it on a shelf away from my daily working area. It was one box of many, neatly stacked on shelves … all things that could potentially happen but things I could do nothing about. I could see it over there. I knew the potential of loss that could be coming. But I also knew that in that moment, there was nothing I could do about it … besides pray. So, every time I would think about or see that box, I prayed and then moved on. Every time I was tempted to open it and try to fix or worry about any impending problems, I prayed and moved on. The only thing I could do about the potential bad news in that box, was to pray.

I never picked it up off that shelf. I didn’t walk over to it and looked at it. I didn’t shake it. I didn’t worry about it or fuss at it. I reminded myself that when, and if, it was time for me to deal with what was in that box, the Lord Himself would be the one to hand it to me and then HE would provide the needed wisdom, strength, and grace to deal with it.

Instead, I continued to focus on the boxes that were in front of me. The boxes that were my responsibility for the moment and I trusted the Lord for the boxes still on the shelves.

DISCIPLINE

Coming from a woman who is prone to an anxious mind that closely resembles a pinball machine filled with hundreds of balls ricocheting and flying constantly, it has taken a considerable amount of work and discipline to train my mind to even visualize boxes neatly stacked against a wall.

I am a caregiver — a nurturer — a ‘must fix it’ type of person.

My nature is to be surrounded by ALL the open boxes, trying to do something about them all … while the ones I am most responsible for, lie neglected near the bottom of the pile.

Let’s be honest here — this way of living is not honoring to the Lord as we seek to control and fix everything within our circle of influence (and often OUTSIDE our circle of influence). Developing the disciplined mindset of giving God the control of all in my life allows me the freedom to give the open boxes before me all of my attention and focus while trusting Him with the boxes not yet opened to me. I understand what IS my responsibility and what IS NOT.

Approaching life in this manner lowers my overall sense of anxiety while it further develops my dependence on God and my trust in Him. It also allows for me to be much more effective and efficient in what is placed before me.

END OF THE STORY

In case you were wondering — that anvil of potential bad news that was thrown my way? Well, God did a truly amazing thing and faithfully provided and took care of my family. The box was opened, IN God’s timing, and I had the privilege of watching God use that situation for His glory and our good.

What could have wrecked me with anxiety ultimately became a stepping stone of faith.

‘Do not fear, for I am with you;
Do not anxiously look about you, for I am your God.
I will strengthen you, surely I will help you,
Surely I will uphold you with My righteous right hand.’
Isaiah 41:10

The Brown Bird's Song

Abiding Acres Farm

Anxiety

Summer Writing 2 : When I think I Can’t

Summer Writing

Set like Flint

Trust

Finding Rest in the Lonely Journey

The Faithfulness of God

Don’t Open that Box