A Day in the Life

November 18, 2020 / walkingthisjourneysite / 2 Comments

This post may be a bit different than my normal style of writing and, if I can actually stick to my tentative plans, it will hopefully become a regular feature on this blog.

Don’t hold your breath waiting though because my plans are usually just will-o-wisps in the night. A mirage that disappears once reality hits.

By all appearances, I closed a chapter in life over the weekend. It was a hard decision for me as it is something of immense importance and value and something I have been working at for over 19 years. I have begged God and I have told Him what to do more than once — but it has been 19 years of beating my head against a brick wall. I have driven myself into the ground so many times trying to make all the pieces fit and make it all okay. But this year has been tough in more ways than one and as I contemplated it all, it seemed time to let go. Certainly, that doesn’t mean I stop praying for God to work in the situation, but it does mean I am letting go of telling Him what that work should look like. So I closed the chapter on what I tried for so many years to accomplish myself and now I wait. I wait to see what the Lord will do. I hope He opens the chapter again and I hope He blows me away by what He does.

Following that and as I’ve been contemplating so many things, both personal and in the world around me, I’ve decided it’s time to settle into my present reality and try new things. That includes trying to write here a little more often and a little more openly — Not because I think I am an exceptional writer or that my words and thoughts are particularly compelling, but simply because it is something I can do. It’s a way to grow and honor the God I love at the same time.

So welcome to ‘A Day in the Life …’

In preparation for future posts, this will be a little longer as I am going to give a little background and share just a little more about my oldest son, ‘T’, who is 19 years old. He is diagnosed with classic autism, IDD, and severe anxiety and truthfully, he is significantly impacted by it all. He is not completely nonverbal but his language skills are very limited. His receptive language is much stronger than his expressive language, so he understands more than he can express, but if you pay attention, he’ll communicate in his own way. He is quite intelligent and capable of many things, he has a sweet smile and his laughter will brighten any day, but he also has a lot of challenges and behaviorally, he can be considerably complicated. Those who truly know him, love him fully. Those who don’t, tend to be put off or intimidated by what they see and hear.

Can I be transparent with you? It has never, ever been easy with him. There has never been a single area or time where he has followed ‘normal’ or has done what was expected of him. The simplest tasks are hard and they are hard day after day, year after year. Life is complicated every single day and every single day, I feel like a failure as his mother.

Over and over, for so many years, guilt and blame were often heaped on my shoulders by others — but most often by me. As a result, I’ve lived many years trapped within the walls of guilt, shame, and an overwhelming sense of failure … not only because I felt like a failure as a mother but, also in part to a rather complicated marriage which stirred the same kind of emotion.

It’s hard to let anyone in when shame consumes you. It’s hard to ask for and accept help when you believe yourself to be a complete failure.

But this is what is important … being my son’s mother has both broken me and matured me. God, in His infinite mercy and wisdom, gave me a child that wouldn’t fit into any label or follow any natural rule and who would never allow me the courtesy of feeling good about my parenting or myself. He did this not because I am some special kind of mother or one who is strong enough to face the challenges, but rather because it was part of His sovereign plan. A plan I cannot possibly see nor understand. I do know however, that He gave me a child who would require me to become broken, desperate, and needy before a holy God. He caused me to be broken so fully that only His truth could make sense of the pieces that lay shattered before me continually.

I am so grateful to be T’s mother and humbled that God allows me to grow beside him each day.

Over the long months of shut-down due to ‘the virus’, I was desperate for things to do both for myself and for T. My other children are able to fill their own hours but T, well, he needs constant prodding, supervision, and assistance to do anything besides watch YouTube videos, play Minecraft, indulge in problem behaviors, or become destructive in his boredom. Personally, I spent as much time outside as possible working and cultivating the four acres of land we live on because I have a long-term vision for the property. One of the first things I did was to put out extra birdfeeders. I know the birds are more than capable of foraging for themselves during the warmer months, but watching them flutter around my feeders was like watching flowers dancing through the sky all around my house.

So I enlisted T’s help in keeping those feeders filled for our feathered friends.

Now getting T to help with any task is an ongoing challenge. He definitely lives in his own world inside his head and he isn’t always very willing to be bothered to leave it. My approach has changed somewhat as he has aged and it is always tricky to properly and respectfully navigate these waters. He is 19 years old and therefore, he is a young man. An adult. Yet, on the inside, he actually functions and comprehends more as a young child. His emotions and thoughts often seem torn between a maturing understanding and a child-like mind. Since he is technically an adult, I endeavor to treat him as one. Yes, he still will draw on the walls, make a mess in the bathroom, and have meltdowns, but he also tends to respond better to me if I talk to him as I would a typical peer his age. When I get frustrated and use the ‘mother’ voice, he reacts negatively. So my approach at this point is to approach him as a young man as much as possible. When it came to filling the birdfeeders, I simply asked him to help me. I appealed to his need of being needed and valued.

That worked great initially. Once he had settled into the new reality of being home during the shut-down, he appreciated having fewer demands and he grew more relaxed and calm. So if I appealed to him to help me, he was often willing to do so (at least for a little while). We would get the birdseed from the garage and walk around the yard to the various birdfeeders and then he would fill them himself.

Since he is back at school, in person (half days only), he has been less willing to help me out. My guess is, he is already maxed out on the demands he is willing to accommodate by the time he gets home so he is more inclined to stubbornly refuse to do what I ask. He’s not not unlike most of us when we get home from work or school, we simply want to be left alone.

As a result, I’ve been filling those birdfeeders alone while trying to gauge what’s happening, weighing all the possibilities and reminding myself of the goal, and then creating a new plan of approach.

Yesterday, I brought the two feeders that needed filled onto the back porch, along with the birdseed. When the time was reasonable, I showed him the visual and simply asked him to help me fill them. I knew the way I was approaching him was only giving a very minimal demand and I very much wanted to create a successful, productive moment for him, so I quietly stood firm in my request.

It didn’t take long for him to join me on the porch and complete the task.

Once he completed what I asked, I thanked him for his help and let him go on his way. He smiled at me and I knew the moment had been successful. Next time I will handle it the same way. There may be times he will be willing to go outside with me to fill them and when that is the case, that’s what we’ll do. But if the only way I can get him involved successfully is to bring the feeders to him, then that’s what I will do.

The goal is simply to encourage him to work with me on whatever task is at hand because, as far as I can see, that’s what we will be doing every day once he ages out of the school system and transitions into what the adult world holds for him.

We’re becoming a stronger team, my son and I, as we grow together.

In the weeks ahead, I hope to share more ‘A Day in the Life’ segments as T and I find more new things to work on together.

I hope you’ll join us.

The Reluctant Traveler – An Unexpected Detour

November 14, 2020 / walkingthisjourneysite / Leave a comment

A few weeks ago I wrote a post entitled, Survival 101 – Probably Not What You Expected. Today’s post is a follow-up to that so you may find it helpful to read (or reread) it before continuing. The key points I mentioned in that piece were Experience, Preparation, and Navigation and how they are absolutely necessary on this journey of life. But what happens when the unexpected happens? When a tsunami-sized wave comes crashing in over us or when our journey faces an unexpected detour? When happens when we are at the very end of our resources and everything seems lost? Come with me as we follow the experience of another traveler who finds herself in exactly that situation.

She lifted her backpack slowly and hoisted it across her weary shoulders, as a grimace of pain lightly crossed over her face. It was a heavy bag but she always carried it with her wherever she went, it was her constant companion. She was a well-seasoned traveler with many miles already logged in, but now she was facing an unexpected detour, a delay that would hinder her from reaching a much-needed shelter, a resting place. Weary though she was, there was nothing she could do but adapt to the ever-changing circumstances and keep going. So with a heavy sigh, the reluctant traveler adjusted the straps on her bag and started walking.

But then more news reached her — the two week detour was going to be extended. It grew to four weeks and then six, without a single rest in sight. Then it went from six to eight weeks. Finally she learned it would be at least five months of non-stop travel before there was even any chance of reaching a place of rest or replenishment. The bag on her back became burdensome, as the days and nights grew longer and discouragement and weariness began to overwhelm her. The journey was hard and what she carried suddenly seemed much too heavy for her to bear.

Her eyes were filled with tears so it is no surprise that she didn’t notice how close she was to the edge of a deep ravine. It only took one distracted moment for her to lose her footing and tumble deep into the darkness, her bag and all its contents breaking open and scattering across the bottom.

Our traveler laid silently on the rocky bottom of the ravine. She hadn’t made a sound as she fell and no one knew the danger she was in. She didn’t have the strength even now to call for help and she didn’t believe anyone would care anyway. So she curled up and settled into a troubled sleep as the darkness descended like a blanket covering her.

For days she lay huddled on the ground, unable to move and no longer caring whether she lived or died. The journey had proven to be too much for her and the detours had taken her to her very limit. The bag which had been with her all her life had become a burden, much too heavy for her to carry anymore. She looked at its contents strewed across the ground and she began to understand the absurdity of the weight she carried. Her bag had been filled with memories of her travels, relics of the past, and the weight of them alone was too much for her to bear. Her situation seemed dire, even hopeless, as the sense of abandonment and loneliness threatened her every thought.

But one morning, just as all seemed lost and her body and spirit began to fail, a gentle wind came whispering through the valley that held her captive, echoing with these words,

“Remember my misery and my homelessness,
the wormwood and bitterness.
My soul certainly remembers,
And is bent over within me.“

And remember she did.

She looked around her until she found where her well-used guide book had fallen. It had been some time since she had bothered to read it, but she knew where those words came from and suddenly she remembered where to find help. She crawled to the book, carefully opened its worn pages, and tearfully began to read the rest …

“I recall this to my mind,
Therefore I wait.
The Lord’s acts of mercy indeed do not end,
For His compassions do not fail.
They are new every morning;
Great is Your faithfulness.”
Lamentations 3: 19-23

This is when our weary and broken traveler knew she was going to be rescued. She didn’t know how and she didn’t know where the strength would come from to follow the voice that whispered in the wind, but in this moment of deep despair, her rescue had begun.

Can you relate to the reluctant traveler in the story above? I think after the year we’ve had, all of us can to a certain degree for it has certainly been filled with detours and challenges.

During the summer, I wrote a post simply entitled, Rescued. After I wrote that, someone asked me what the story was behind it but I never was able to answer that question, largely because I was still very much in the battle. I was still in the process of being rescued.

What I didn’t understand until recently, however, was that I wasn’t being rescued from danger, but rather, the danger was my rescue.

Hang on, I’ll try to explain.

With March of 2020, there came a huge detour in life; It affected everybody. No one was exempt although I think it is safe to say, it impacted each of us differently.

For me personally, it has been a hard detour, one that followed a very long series of other detours. But tell me, what would you say if I told you those detours, although hard and often soul-crushing, were actually for my good? Would you understand if I said that the path I am on, even though it is not a path I want or would have chosen, is the one God chose for me, therefore, it is good?

What if I told you the things that are the hardest in my life
are the very things God is using to rescue me?

I grew up in church, Bible-believing churches, all through my youth and young adult years. I asked Jesus into my heart as a child. I attended every church service (and there were A LOT) and I participated in every child and youth ministry. I served in the church in almost every capacity from my youngest years. Church was my life — it was my community.

I was a believer and by all appearance, a ‘good Christian girl’, but on the inside I struggled terribly. I was afraid all of the time, vulnerable to all kinds of things and people, and prone to searching for a sense of safety/security wherever I could find it. I was an empty shell of a person, always seeking identity, validation, and love. I was on a path that was clearly heading away from God, although I would have denied that at the time.

When I was 21, one of the first real ‘detours’ of my adult life hit. I moved into my first apartment and lost my home church (through a difficult church-split type of situation), all in one weekend. Losing my church meant losing my entire community that had been in place since I was a very young child.

That life detour led to another detour … and then another. What seemed like speed bumps on the road at the time, proved to be life-altering changes that led me on a path I never intended for myself.

Like the traveler in my story, I’ve carried a bag on my life’s journey and it too has been an often heavy, burdensome piece to carry. At various points of my journey in the past, the Lord has caused detours to come my way that helped me begin to understand how heavy that bag was and how useless much of the contents were. The longer the detour, the harder the path I had to walk, the more I noticed and fell beneath the weight of the baggage I carried. What was all in the bag I carried? Fear, bad memories, legalistic thinking, hurts and wounds from the past, guilt, shame, poor Biblical teaching and understanding, and a incorrect view of God and who I am in Him … and much more. It’s a bag I kept hidden for years because I was so ashamed of the contents it held inside.

But as the detours of life continued and as the intensity of my journey increased, the Lord began to deal with the contents of my bag, sifting through the nonsense and replacing junk thinking with His truth. Over the years, through this work of the Holy Spirit, the weight of the bag has grown significantly lighter.

But over this past summer, the detour that hit my life proved to be especially grueling, with little to no support or reprieve from the intensity. I was weary and grew distracted from the weight I was carrying and, as a result, I took a wrong step and tumbled down into a steep ravine. Just like the weary traveler in my story, the remaining contents of my bag went flying through the air, scattering across the ground.

For a time I laid still, also not caring whether I lived or died. The journey had been much too hard for me and the burden on my shoulders too heavy to carry. The darkness of the night covered my soul in deep silence even as I carried on outwardly with the responsibilities of life.

I would have stayed there for I had lost any will to fight … but God.

But God.

Down in the ravine where I was hidden from view and completely alone, God stepped into the darkness and brought His light. He gathered some of the wretched contents of my bag and began to show me the absurdity of the things I carry. Remnants of a broken past tampered with my own understanding, instead of His. Then, as the old hymn says, ‘I traced His rainbow through the rain…’ and in the quiet of the night, I began to see the detours of my past from His perspective, instead of my own…

I saw beauty. I saw love. I saw discipline. I saw the protection of a sovereign and holy God towards one of His more vulnerable, yet stubborn, children. I saw grace, immeasurable grace. I was humbled as I sat in silence at the feet of my Savior.

All the detours that, from my perspective, made life so much harder and different from what I wanted, were actually the paths my Father laid out for me to bring me to a place of rescue.

Rescue from myself and my own sin tendencies. Rescue from a faulty understanding of who He is and who I am in Him. Rescue from a life lived in constant fear of others.

Reader, the hard things in my life that I so often fight against and resent, are the very things God is using to transform me into the image of His Son.

He is using the dangers and detours of this life to rescue me.

So where does that leave me now? Well, I’m not sure honestly. The last couple of months have been a slow process of climbing out of the deep ravine with the steady assistance and care of a loving Shepherd who will leave the 99 to find the one that is lost. Life continues to be uncertain, challenging, and wearisome and I am not sure what lies ahead for me or what direction my path will take. So I endeavor to take each day one step at a time, trusting in Him to lead me in the direction He wants me to go.

Reader, I shared all this to challenge you — Whatever path you find yourself on, whatever detour seems to have changed the trajectory of your journey, you may find it helpful to look to the Savior. Could it be that He has a purpose for the detours and hard things in your life too?

Don’t waste the detours.

Oh, the depth of the riches, both of the wisdom and knowledge of God!
How unsearchable are His judgments and unfathomable His ways!
Romans 11:33

Survival 101 – Probably Not What You Expected.

October 25, 2020 / walkingthisjourneysite / 2 Comments

I enjoy a good survival story, especially if it is true and has a happy ending. I am a absolute sucker for happy endings, what can I say? But I am especially intrigued by the stories of those who start on a journey only to find themselves in seemingly impossible circumstances for which they are grossly ill-prepared.

Consider the plight of an inexperienced hiker who decided to enjoy a rare warm fall day by hiking into a nearby mountain. She had heard the view was beautiful and even though she knew nothing of the terrain and had never seriously hiked before, she slipped on her sneakers, tossed a small water bottle and granola bar in her bag, and started up the trail, confident that she could handle anything that lie ahead.

But as the day wore on, she began to realize that, even though she had been walking for several hours, she had not yet reached the mountain summit. In fact, as she looked around her, she realized she could not find any markers to indicate whether she was even still on the trail. Somehow, she had lost her way. She stopped to calm herself and tried to remember what she should do in a situation like this but quickly realized that this was beyond anything in her experience. She looked at her cell phone but saw she only had a very weak signal so she decided to keep walking, hoping to see it improve. By only focusing her attention on her phone, she completely missed the dark clouds that had built overhead or the way the winds had begun to whistle through the trees. It was only as the rain pelted down upon her that she suddenly realized the danger of her present situation and frantically searched for some kind of shelter, anywhere to take refuge from the violent storm. She stumbled down into a pile of boulders and there she hid herself, waiting for the storm to pass. While in her hiding spot, she recognized a pang of hunger and reached into her small backpack only to discover she had eaten her lone granola bar some hours before. Her water bottle was empty as well so she held it out under the rain, hoping to snatch a few precious droplets with which to quench her thirst.

Wet from the heavy rains and growing much colder as the chilly evening air settled around her, she began to feel true fear. No one knew where she was, her cell phone was not working, she was out of food and water, she was wet, she was cold, and she didn’t know what to do. So as the rain changed into a foggy mist, she started to walk once more, completely disoriented, without the faintest clue of where she was or what direction she was heading.

She had started on an adventure without the three main keys of survival … Experience, Preparedness, and Navigation … and our hapless hiker was now paying the unfortunate price for her negligence.

Now, this could simply be a case of an overly active imagination, but that hiker’s story reminds me of the entirety of 2020 thus far –except, I would probably need to add in a blizzard that dropped six feet of snow on her, a couple of grizzly bears, a mountain lion or two, and a few more natural disasters to make it more accurate, right?

Lord have mercy, what a year.

Admittedly, I am not much of a hiker. I do enjoy an excursion through the woods and being surrounded by the serene silence of a forest, but I prefer the luxury of indoor plumbing, you know? I probably would not fare well if I were lost in the wilderness and facing the onslaught of crises that our hiker encountered, despite some basic survival skills I may possess. But in my world, I do have a little experience with crisis and I know a thing or two about survival. Even so, the events of this past year still knocked me for a loop so what I am going to share is just a taste of what I’ve been working through and pondering over these last several months. If you have been ‘thrown for a loop’ as well, I hope you will listen to this part of my story and consider these musings.

Earlier this year, prior to the ongoing events of the pandemic and the overall breakdown of society, I was facing a crisis that completely rocked my world. My oldest son, who has autism and often crippling anxiety, completely fell apart emotionally. It started at the end of 2019 but the shattering didn’t fully hit until later in January. I have been through many a crisis with this beloved son of mine, but this was something new and beyond anything I had experienced before.

My son has significant limitations and behavioral issues due to his autism and anxiety so he attends a special school that is specifically designed for individuals with his level of need. As part of his treatment plan, they have written a crisis plan, which is a specific set of steps they follow when he exhibits crisis behavior. It is written by highly trained professionals and all staff are trained in how to implement it. Here at home, I have my own crisis plan. It is one I have developed myself over the years of living, loving, and working with my son while also needing to protect his younger siblings. I am a team of one with a soft nature so I had to walk through a lot of hard things to gain the experience and wisdom needed to develop a plan that would keep my son safe, as well as, to teach him how to control and calm himself. I am not naturally gifted in knowing how to do this nor is my personality wired for this level of parenting. But I have learned that having a solid plan allows me to respond to almost any crisis wisely and consistently — being prepared is vital.

However, when my son fell apart earlier in the year, I was out of my depths in a way I had not been in a long time. I was alone with him (and his siblings who retreated to their rooms) and for a long time I could only watch — and pray. See, for any Christian mother, but especially one with a non-verbal special needs child, that is absolutely key. I cannot know what is happening inside my son’s mind — I can only see the outside. But God knows all things so I cried out to Him for insight and for wisdom to know what to do.

Experience with this level of breakdown I did not have, but I did have quite a bit of experience from other storms I have walked through with my son. Therefore, I had a certain ability to deal with the crisis at hand. Because of that kind of experience and the many years I have invested learning how to help my son, I was prepared enough to be able to respond in such a way to help deescalate the situation, as opposed to escalating it further. So I was moderately prepared and had some experience and these were very important but it was the final point that made the real difference — navigation. I texted my Pastor to tell him briefly of the situation and to ask for prayer … and then I sat beside my son’s bed in the darkness of the night and I lifted my silent cries to the Lord. I needed His guidance and direction in order to help my son.

“Your ears will hear a word behind you, “This is the way, walk in it,”
whenever you turn to the right or to the left.”
Isaiah 30:21

God, when all else seemed lost, was my navigation, my compass, to guide me in the right direction, during a time both my son and I were utterly disoriented by the intensity of the storm.

How often do we tend to mindlessly meander our way through life, assuming everything will go well and according to our plans? No one plans for hard seasons, whether it be the birth of a child with a life-threatening disease or a disability of some nature. No one plans for cancer to attack a loved one or death to call someone away in their youth. No one plans for a year like we have known in 2020.

So what do we do when faced with crisis, when our world is shaken to its core, or in some cases, shattered to pieces before our eyes? How do we rely on experience when facing situations that are far more than we have ever dealt with? How do we prepare for crisis when we don’t know it is coming? Most importantly, do we have a tool of navigation, something or someone who can provide direction as we move through a troubled season?

These are only a few of the thoughts I have been ruminating over these last months because even though I may have handled the first crisis of 2020 fairly well (all glory to God for that), the next wave of crisis that hit proved to be of tsunami proportions.

I will share that story another time but until then, consider taking some time to reflect on how you respond in times of crisis. Do you have enough experience with the goodness and sovereignty of God to help you weather the harshest of storms? Are you prepared and grounded in His truths? And most importantly, do you know where to find help and guidance in times of need? Think about it.

The time to consider these matters is not when crisis hits for then it may be too late.

“I will lift up my eyes to the mountains;
From where shall my help come?
My help comes from the Lord,
Who made heaven and earth.”
Psalm 121:1,2

Survival 101 – Probably not what you expected.

Sufficient Grace

September 3, 2020 / walkingthisjourneysite / Leave a comment

God, I can’t do this anymore.
My grace is sufficient for you.

But, the load is too heavy.
My grace is sufficient for you.

I am all alone.
My grace is sufficient for you.

My tears are hidden.
My grace is sufficient for you.

Broken, dysfunctional relationships are crushing me.
My grace is sufficient for you.

I can’t handle one more meltdown.
My grace is sufficient for you.

I am afraid of losing a loved one.
My grace is sufficient for you.

I am not good enough.
My grace is sufficient for you.

My future is so uncertain.
My grace is sufficient for you.

I’ve made too many mistakes.
My grace is sufficient for you.

I am weak and so very weary.
My grace is sufficient for you.

I am afraid.
My grace is sufficient for you.

But God, You’re not listening, I can’t ….
Child, My grace IS sufficient for you.

But he said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me. That is why, for Christ’s sake, I delight in weaknesses, in insults, in hardships, in persecutions, in difficulties. For when I am weak, then I am strong.
2 Corinthians 12:9-10

His grace is a beacon in the night when we’ve lost our way.

His grace is a lifeboat that lifts us out of the dark waters and carries us safely to shore.

His grace is sufficient in every trial. In every distress. In every storm of life.

His grace is sufficient.

When no other comfort can be found. When no other strength is present. When we stand all alone as the stormy waves crash around and we can scarcely breathe for the sorrow that fills the soul … we can still lift our eyes to heaven and cry out, “Your grace is sufficient, Lord. Even in this. Even for me.“

We rest in His grace alone. He is the strength in our weakness and we boast in Him through every situation and circumstance of life.

This is how we can worship when hopelessness threatens to overpower us.

There is no greater comfort for the believer than His grace.

His sufficient grace.

It is enough.

Rescued.

July 22, 2020 / walkingthisjourneysite / 1 Comment

“I can shake off everything as I write; my sorrows disappear, my courage is reborn.”
~Anne Frank~

I don’t know when I have last written nor when I have even given this blog more a passing thought. The world, for many of us, came to a screeching halt back in March, as we were suddenly faced with fears of a worldwide pandemic and all the surreal discord, fear, and anger that continues to threaten to overtake all logic and respect for human dignity and life.

In the process of navigating these issues and working through the overwhelming circumstances within my own family, I found myself unequipped for the battles that awaited me. Courage left first as my greatest foe, Fear, wrapped his tendrils around my heart and mind. His whispers assailed and assaulted me from every side until I could no longer hear the voice of my Savior. My faith began to weaken as my words vanished like a vapor in the night.

I never felt more alone. I never felt more abandoned. I never felt more lost.

Many can toss their words into the wind without thought or care for where they land but that is not how I live. My nature is quiet. Words are often hard for me to share. It took years for me to learn how to talk and begin to share my thoughts with others. It takes courage for me to even look anyone in the eye. It takes courage for me to speak a word that opens the shutters of who I am inside. It takes courage for me to write because I know words to be powerful … whether for good or for evil.

I believed my words were forever lost as I finally fell before my enemy on an isolated battle field, wounded and afraid. Too weary to do anything more than whisper, “Where are You?” and “What have I done? Has it all been for naught?”

My enemy began to turn away, certain of my demise. He knew all along I lacked the courage for a battle of this intensity and that I could be easily defeated. I could hear him laugh in disgust as he walked away, leaving me abandoned in the bloodied dirt. I would have stayed there in misery for the rest of my life …

But God.

In the haunting silence that often follows a particularly brutal battle, I gradually became aware of a different whisper, at first spoken through the voice of a friend/counselor.

“You have to keep feeding your mind Biblical truth. ‘I will never leave you or forsake you… (Hebrew 13:5)’ ‘No one can snatch you out of My hand… (John 10:28) ‘The good shepherd will leave the 99 to seek and save the one that is lost…’ (Luke 15:4-6)“

Over and over I heard the words, “I will leave the 99 to find you.”

I began to recognize the voice of the Shepherd beckoning His lamb who was lost.

The one who thought she had been abandoned. Forgotten. Left behind.

My head lifted as I began to search for my Shepherd and I saw the enemy swivel on his feet as he turned to face me once more. Our eyes locked as he lifted his sword and all I could do was whisper one name …

The name of Jesus.

A shadow fell over me and I saw fear in my enemy’s face as he saw who stood over me ready to fight to protect His own.

The Good Shepherd. My Rescuer.

Jesus Christ.

“For the Lord will not forsake his people; he will not abandon his heritage;…”
Psalm 94:14

I am not sure how much writing I will do as I am honestly trying to figure out how to live truthfully and righteously in the overwhelming and difficult realities of this life and particularly, this season of life. To say I still feel inadequate and unworthy is an understatement but I know these feelings are not to be trusted. I have been called to live as one who has been rescued … and if I write, it must be as one who knows she has been rescued even in the darkest of seasons.

One who has seen the ugliness of the battle field and who has faced almost certain death at the hand of the enemy rarely speaks of her own goodness or fortitude in battle … but rather, she speaks of the One who rescued her when all seemed lost.

She will not attempt to point to anything or anyone other than the One whose very presence can cause darkness to flee. She will gladly stand in the shadow of His presence and trust in His strength as the battles of life continue to rage around her.

She knows she has been rescued and is aware that she has to learn to live in this truth, even when every circumstance in her life seems to tell her otherwise.

So I write these words and offer them to you as one who is planting the minuscule seeds of courage in hopes that it will grow once more.

“Remember my affliction and my wandering, the wormwood and bitterness. Surely my soul remembers and is bowed down within me. This I recall to my mind, therefore I have hope. The Lord’s lovingkindnesses indeed never cease, for His compassions never fail. They are new every morning; Great is Your faithfulness. “The Lord is my portion,” says my soul, “Therefore I have hope in Him.” The Lord is good to those who wait for Him,
To the person who seeks Him. It is good that he waits silently for the salvation of the Lord.“
Lamentations 3:19-26

Come and Dine

January 10, 2020January 10, 2020 / walkingthisjourneysite / 2 Comments

**This is Part one of a series on focusing on the value and beauty of reading God’s Word.**

You’re hungry.

As a pilgrim on a long, and often, arduous journey, you find yourself so weary that you might not even realize how famished you are until a door opens and the first wafting aroma of prepared food hits your senses.

Your stomach growls as your hands begin to tremble.

You step inside and discover a dining table completely hidden beneath the abundance of every wonderful kind of food you can imagine. Substantial food meant to nourish and strengthen the body. Nourishing soups, healthy vegetables, hearty meats — foods intended to fuel your body for the demands of the day.

Off to the side you notice another table filled with sugary desserts. The kind that are appealing and pretty, all sugar and fluff. Experience tells you they are sweet and easy to eat, but lack the nourishing qualities of the more sustaining, life-giving food at the first table.

Your body craves nourishment but from which table will you choose to eat?

Will you bypass the table of substantial foods to satiate your cravings with sugary fluff from the dessert table, simply because it provides an immediate, yet temporary relief from your hunger and tastes so sweet? Will you eat your fill of it until you no longer crave anything more?

Or will you sit at the first table and fill your plate and body with meat, vegetables, and fruits until your strength is renewed?

Which will you choose?

No, this isn’t a post about changing our lifestyles, ditching junk foods, or focusing on whole food diets, plant based diets, or anything of the sort.

Friends, what we feed our souls and minds is so much more important that what we feed our bellies.

*
*

I grew up in a church that valued the Word of God. Now, that doesn’t mean how the Bible was interpreted and taught was necessarily always correct, as the church functioned within a strong legalistic-minded belief system. But there was an emphasis made on the Scriptures and I always had a Bible readily available to me, memorizing significant portions of it throughout my childhood.

However, I did not read my Bible consistently on my own nor did I always understand what I read. Therefore, as I listened to a message or Bible lesson, I simply accepted what that person said to be truth; After all, they read a verse from the Bible supporting their thoughts, so it had to be true, right? I never learned how to study the Bible and certainly questioning anyone was never an option in that environment, but I would do my best to read simply so I could check that duty off of my ‘How to be a good Christian’ to-do list.

The truth of it? Reading my Bible was a chore … a constant source of guilt from not remembering to read it daily or from reading it through the lens of poor theology.

As a young adult, I began attending a new church and eventually married, which began to awaken a hunger for something more. I found myself in a life that was not being supported very well by the shaky spiritual foundation of my youth. A variety of books came my way and I began to devour these writings by Christian authors because they flowed so easily and made me feel somewhat better. I thought I would finally find some answers to the burning hunger inside me. In the mornings, I would sit at the table with my Bible and these books. I intended to spend time in the Scriptures but those books were so much more appealing so I was drawn to them first. I didn’t have to think … I just read the thoughts of another. They became my bible.

But then life began to grow more challenging and confusing, while the hunger inside of me deepened. I couldn’t find the answers nor the guidance I needed in those books I was reading. They weren’t enough. There was no real substance to them in the face of trial and heartache. There had to be more. I turned to my Bible again but often grew frustrated with the antiquated language, the poor theology/teaching of my past, and my overall lack of understanding.

I was starving — spiritually starving.

My spiritual foundation began to shake and crumble into dust beneath me.

One Christmas, I decided to buy my husband a new Bible. He still used a paperback student Bible from his youth and I thought if he had a different Bible, then maybe, well, maybe something would change. I asked for guidance from a man in our church and that Christmas, I wrapped up a new study Bible, in a version I knew nothing about, and gave it to my husband.

And you know what? Change did begin to happen … in me.

One morning, out of curiosity, I opened his Bible and began to read familiar passages. They were the same, yet different. The clear wording and the study notes at the bottom of each page opened an entirely new world to me and even though there was still so much I didn’t understand, I began to delve into the pages of God’s Word in a way I never had before. I began to feast at the table God had set before me. Eventually, I received my very own copy of the Scriptures like I had bought my husband – I was overjoyed and dug in deeper.

“You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies…”
Psalm 23:5a

But life only became more perplexing. I went from being in church services all the time to sitting in a nursery or backroom with my autistic son and my other babies. Fellowship with other believers became increasingly more rare as I spent day after day caring for my children and night after night staying awake with my son. My world grew very small until it became a journey of walking through a barren desert of isolation.

This is when God’s Word started to become more real to me.

At the recommendation of someone who expressed concern for me and my children, I visited a different church. I needed help. My children needed help. I was desperate. After one solo visit on a Wednesday evening, I was intrigued by the teaching and began taking my younger children to their kids Bible club program. Within a short period of time, I moved my whole family to this church. The clear teaching of Scriptures, whether from the pulpit or in counsel, presented without drama or harshness, drew me in and began the process of building a new foundation in my life and in the lives of my children. A foundation built on the Word of God.

Ironically enough, life did not become any easier. I tried to get involved, to be part of the church community and find my niche, but it didn’t work, largely due to the needs of my autistic son. I made sure my younger children were at every service and every event, but I rarely had the freedom nor the stamina to participate myself. My world grew smaller as I cared for my son with autism and began homeschooling my other children. I just could not understand God’s plan in all of this as the journey grew increasingly dark.

This is when the Word of God became my Light and that … changed everything.

“Your word is a lamp to my feet
And a light to my path.”
Psalm 119:105

Come and dine, won’t you?

Photo by Kaboompics .com on Pexels.com

Some Golden Daybreak – for me, for you

January 2, 2020January 2, 2020 / walkingthisjourneysite / 2 Comments

I didn’t have any intention of writing today and rather hoped to withdraw inside myself for awhile … but these words wouldn’t stop until they were written, although hastily written they certainly are. Perhaps someone else could use them too.

I woke and immediately a sense of sadness began to fill my slowly stirring mind.

My autistic son was heading back to school today and while I should have been relieved to finally get a break, I felt a heavy weight instead. This holiday break had been challenging … no, actually it was downright hard in many ways. The first few days weren’t too bad but by the second day after Christmas, everything fell apart.

He can’t tell me what is wrong so I learn by observation, but even at that, I can never assume I know what is happening inside of him. However, one thing was very evident … he gave every impression of being consumed with anxiety.

Yes, he is on medication. Yes, I also use supplements for him.

Sometimes, they aren’t enough.

This was one of those times.

By the last evening before his return to school, I was curled up on the couch, unable to fight one more battle. My heart raced, my chest ached from a heavy weight of grief, I was devoid of strength. Trying to grasp what I could not possibly understand, while working to support my son and stay ahead of whatever was gripping his mind, was suddenly too much.

I didn’t cry. I couldn’t speak. I just held a blanket against my chest and prayed for bedtime to come. Relief for us both.

That relief was nowhere to be found when I woke in the early morning hours even as the house rested quietly around me. I couldn’t escape the memories nor the heavy weight and overwhelming sense of responsibility.

The burden felt too great for my shoulders alone.

Often, while reading articles or perusing comments to articles or new stories, I find a mocking response towards the ones who seek the Lord in times of distress.

“Religion is a waste of time”, they say. “There is no God.”

Their tone condescending, their words belittling … they deny the very truth we stand on as believers and followers of Christ.

I understand.

Sometimes as believers, even we wonder if what we believe is really true.

Oh, most of us will never admit that but when the storms of life hit and knock you senseless to the ground, a quick instinctive response often rips from the depths of our soul …

“GOD! Where are you?!”

Where is He …

For the widow who weeps alone today, recently bereft of the love of her husband?

For the daughter, who longs for his embrace?

For the mother who prayed and longed for her prodigal child to return for so many years, only to see her go further away?

For the grandma beside the grave of the grandson she raised?

For the heartbroken widow, remarried and finding herself in a horrendous situation?

For the wife waiting for the cancer to win the last round?

For the mother broken with sorrow for a child she doesn’t know how to help?

These are my friends, my family, my sisters in the Lord … the ones in my prayers this morning.

Each has been forever touched by sorrow.

“God! Where are you?”

We are not alone in our brokenness and one does not need to search long before finding Scripture that seem to echo the very words coursing through us with each beat of a troubled heart …

“Be not far from me, for trouble is near; For there is none to help.”
Psalm 22:11

Give ear to my words, O Lord,
Consider my groaning.
Heed the sound of my cry for help, my King and my God,
For to You I pray.
In the morning, O Lord, You will hear my voice;
In the morning I will order my prayer to You and eagerly watch.
Psalm 5:1-3

As the deer pants for the water brooks,
So my soul pants for You, O God.
My soul thirsts for God, for the living God;
When shall I come and appear before God?
My tears have been my food day and night,
While they say to me all day long, “Where is your God?”
Psalm 42:1-3

Where is He?

“The Lord is near to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit.”
Psalm 34:18

He is near to you.

As hard as it is to grasp sometimes when we feel alone in the journey, the Lord does know what we are walking through when seasons of grief and sorrow come our way. We can find a measure of comfort in that He knows what we are experiencing for He has walked the way of grief as well.

“He was despised and forsaken of men,
A man of sorrows and acquainted with grief;
And like one from whom men hide their face
He was despised, and we did not esteem Him.”
Isaiah 53:3

I walked into my kitchen just as the sun was breaking over the horizon. The barren trees stood starkly against the background of dark blues, gentle pinks, and subtle oranges. The bird feeder swayed quietly from the branches without a single bird to be seen. This view from my kitchen window drew me outside, despite the frosty chill, until I stood in wonder of a beautiful sunrise after the grief of a weary night. What a loving God to paint glorious sunrises with the promise of the most beautiful one yet to come.

Some glorious morning sorrow will cease
Some glorious morning all will be peace
Heartaches all ended, school days all done
Heaven will open – Jesus will come.

Some golden daybreak Jesus will come
Some golden daybreak, battles all won
He’ll shout the vict’ry, break thro’ the blue
Some golden daybreak, for me, for you.

Sad hearts will gladden, all shall be bright
Goodbye forever to earth’s dark night
Changed in a moment, like Him to be
Oh, glorious daybreak, Jesus I’ll see.

Some golden daybreak Jesus will come
Some golden daybreak, battles all won
He’ll shout the vict’ry, break thro’ the blue
Some golden daybreak, for me, for you.

Oh, what a meeting, there in the skies
No tears nor crying shall dim our eyes
Loved ones united eternally
Oh, what a daybreak that morn will be.

Some golden daybreak Jesus will come
Some golden daybreak, battles all won
He’ll shout the vict’ry, break thro’ the blue
Some golden daybreak, for me, for you.
(written by Carl A. Blackmore)

To the ones who would mock and consider me a fool for placing my trust in a Savior they believe doesn’t exist, I’m actually okay with that and I don’t blame you. I do believe the day will come that you will understand the truth upon which I live.

But to the ones who know the voice of their Shepherd and are walking through a pathway of sorrow, I hope you find encouragement and strength in His Word to face today. Tomorrow will take care of itself.

Before my son left this morning, I stood beside him as he sat on his char, waiting for his van to arrive. I felt powerless and helpless, until I did the only thing I could … I placed my hand on his shoulder and began to pray. I prayed until my hand moved to the top of his head and my voice broke from the tears as I pleaded with Jesus for more.
“Give him more, Jesus. Give him more.”

That is my prayer for you today as well.

“Give her more, Jesus. Give her more.”

Friends, a glorious daybreak is coming when all the sin and sorrow that plagues this earth will cease and Jesus will come to restore what was once broken. No more autism. No more cancer. No more death. No more grief. No more tears.

Some golden daybreak, for me, for you.

December 31, 2019 / walkingthisjourneysite / 2 Comments

We stand at the dawn of a new year.

The time when we diligently make new goals, bravely set (or reset last year’s) resolutions, and in general, feel a need to shake things up.

Make changes or possibly, insist we are fine, just as we are.

In any case, be the master of our own destiny.

But what does that look like for the believer? For the one who seeks to follow God?

Here are my thoughts … offered hesitantly and humbly.

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*

As a child, I had hopes and dreams, albeit they were mostly simple and shallow. For example, driving home from church on a summer Sunday evening and hoping that my Dad would skip the turn to go home and instead go straight towards the local dairy parlor for ice cream.

Their chocolate ice cream was so good!

I never asked him but he knew we always wanted ice cream. Each drive home from church, I would sit in the backseat, silently wishing and repeating over and over, “Go straight, Dad … please go straight.”

If the car still turned towards home, I would be disappointed but never upset. I could wish for an ice cream cone all I wanted but, as my father, it was his decision whether or not it was a good time to provide it.

As a child, I was dependent on my father to provide and even when I didn’t understand, I usually trusted him.

Or what man is there among you who, when his son asks for a loaf, will give him a stone? Or if he asks for a fish, he will not give him a snake, will he? If you then, being evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your Father who is in heaven give what is good to those who ask Him!
Matthew 7:9-11

We human beings tend to be independent, rather self-focused creatures, wouldn’t you agree? We want what we want, when we want it. We want comfort, security, success, the admiration of others … and more independence.

As a teenager, I often frustrated my Dad because I never told him when I needed something. When I was driving one of his vehicles, I never mentioned if I needed gas money. I would simply take money from my birthday stash and put gas in the car. Some of it may have been family circumstances at the time, but a large part of it was a stubborn independent instinct that had been stirred awake. If I needed something, I instinctively searched for ways to provide it for myself. I didn’t want to be dependent on anyone. I didn’t want to be a bother. I probably hoped that my Dad would give me gas money, but I certainly didn’t ask.

Not asking became normal. Discouraging any hopeful expectation became a habit.

So I was surprised many years later, when my current Pastor mentioned that I don’t seem to ask God for very much. After being a witness and a voice of counsel on my journey for a number of years, he finally said, “Tanya, you really need to learn to ask God for more.”

I was taken aback.

What? Ask God for more?

Why did that seem so … scary?

Why did my instinct scream that I couldn’t possibly ask God for more?

Well, like many of us, I have very distinct memories of God not answering my prayers.

The desperate prayers of a young teenager who didn’t feel she could face another day as she soaked her pillow with tears each night.

The heartsick, confused young wife, still staining a pillow with tears as she struggled to understand.

The broken tears of a mother as she watched autism steal her son away.

I couldn’t ask God for more because deep inside, I had stopped trusting Him.

He didn’t answer my prayers the way I had pleaded with Him to do for so many years.

When I begged Him to move life straight forward towards that coveted chocolate ice cream cone, He turned onto a road that led a different direction. Definitely not where I wanted to go. He didn’t give me what I asked for and eventually, I stopped trusting Him. I stopped asking.

Sure, I paid lip service to Him but deep inside, I became more intent on being independent. I would find a way to survive this life He had given me. I would do something good with it. I would say I trusted Him … and yet, I never did as I held tightly onto the reins of my life.

“Tanya, ask God for more.”

*
*

The very nature of my life does not allow for much freedom so the concept of asking for ‘more’ seems counterintuitive and pointless. The details of why this is are not important to this post but my journey has often been one of a solitary pilgrim walking in a hidden, desert place. I fought this journey for years, desperate for a life that allowed the freedoms that I watched others enjoy. I resented the restrictions of my life and struggled with a deep bitterness. I pushed hard to find ways to gain more freedom and independence and, in the process, wore myself out and received no blessing from the Lord. Essentially, it was more His will to keep me hidden, than flying free. My life began to resemble a bird imprisoned inside a cage. I longed for freedom but the circumstances of my life were as bars surrounding me, preventing my escape.

I beat my wings against those bars, trying to break my way out until I was completely broken inside. Then I set about making that bird cage the nicest it could be. If I had to be stuck, it was at least going to be a noteworthy cage. But, the One who has allowed all the restricting portions of my life has never allowed me to have my own way. He purposed to teach me how to live the life I have from the only One who knew how.

Come to Me, all who are weary and heavy-laden, and I will give you rest. Take My yoke upon you and learn from Me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For My yoke is easy and My burden is light.”
Matthew 11:28-30

Spending time in the Scriptures, learning of Him, seeking Him in all the hidden details of my life, is bringing about an understanding that far surpasses the God of my childhood.

I have studied His character and I am learning to find rest in His sovereignty and grace. I am continually learning that God is good. He is so good to me.

The Lord, the Lord God, merciful
and gracious, longsuffering, and
abounding in goodness and truth.
Exodus 34:6

You know, I may have been disappointed when I did not get that chocolate ice cream cone as a young child, but it never changed how I viewed my Dad. I spent enough time with him to understand his character and that I could trust him even when he didn’t give me what I wanted.

When we invest time in our relationship with the Lord, we learn the character and nature of our God and this is actually what sustains and carries us through the hard seasons of life. We might not understand the purpose of our suffering but we find all we need when we understand the character of the God who allows it. When we depend on Him as the source of our strength, He takes on the yoke of our burden and walks beside us on our journey. He teaches us how to live this life the way Jesus lived His earthly life … sacrificially and honoring to God the Father.

As we live in the knowledge of His character, our response to hardship will change from, “God, why are You doing this to me?” to “God, I trust that You have allowed this in my life so teach me how to walk through it Your way.”

In the last 14 years, God has pretty much taken away every crutch I have ever used to limp my way through this life. He has not answered many of my prayers in the way I wanted. But instead, He has been doing something else altogether.

During the hardest seasons when I think I can’t take one more step, He is there carrying me through. When I don’t know what to do next, He provides direction. When I want to give up, He never lets me. Sometimes He tarries and lets me wait in silence. Sometimes He allows me to back myself into a position where I am forced to take an unwanted step … and then I see Him move on my behalf in amazing ways. His grace sustains me, His strength carries me.

Through it all what remains true is that the character of God is unchanging. He is good and pure in all His ways. When we can’t see the way in front of us because of the fiercest storms, we can trust the Captain who guides our ship.

This is what I have learned of my God while waiting as a bird, in a bird cage.

O taste and see that the Lord is good;
How blessed is the man who takes refuge in Him!
Psalm 34:8

So more recently, when I heard our Pastor give a charge to our church body to ask God for ‘more’, it became a thing of beauty as I pondered the past and looked towards the future. ‘More’ became a word of hope … of promise.

Oh God, I want more of You. I want to be more of a gentle, quiet, burning candle shining fervently with the light of your mercy, love, and grace. I want more of You in the lives of my children. Please God, I want more. More of a life that is led by You and not by my own fear or selfish ambitions. I want to be more dependent on You and less dependent on myself. I want more. More dying of self and more love for others. Less of me and more of You. I want to trust You more when I don’t understand the journey and the loneliness of it threatens to steal my joy away. I want more of the work of the Holy Spirit in the depths of my being and outpouring in the fruits of my life … even if You are the only One who ever sees. Oh God, I ask You for more.

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Set all the goals you wish for this upcoming year of 2020 … but my challenge for you, for my children, and for myself is to walk with God more. Learn more of Him from His Word. Spend more time in prayer. Seek more of Him in every detail of your life. Confess and repent more of sin. Let nothing stand between you and God. Die more to self. Put Him first above all. Please join me in asking God for more … more of Himself.

“Turn your eyes upon Jesus
Look full in His wonderful face
And the things of earth will grow strangely dim
In the light of His glory and grace.”

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

*Turn your eyes upon Jesus – hymn written by Helen Howorth Lemmel

My Christmas Testimony

December 28, 2019 / walkingthisjourneysite / Leave a comment

One of the elements that had long been missing from my Christmas decor was a Nativity scene … a physical representation of the birth of Christ.

It was never from a lack of effort or desire, but rather, it was mostly due to autism.

Let’s just say, I have a number of broken nativities tucked away in my attic.

But finally, the year came that I felt that a nativity set would be safe from the hands of my son and with a little income at my disposable, I decided it was time to get the nativity I had wanted for so, so long … a Willow Tree Nativity.

The aesthetic appearance of Willow Tree figures has appealed to me from the very first time I saw them. They are simple in form, yet so peaceful and serene.

I deposited the money I had earned from a house-cleaning job and then I ordered the basic Nativity set … Joseph, a young shepherd, a couple of animals … and a kneeling Mary, holding the baby Jesus. I was so excited as it seemed I was in a new season of life and being able to purchase this set was a representation of that.

I remember when the package was delivered and I gingerly unwrapped each figure. I couldn’t wait to set it up so I quickly cleared off the stone mantel above the fireplace and carefully placed each piece. It was simple, it was restful, it was peaceful … it was everything I longed for, in a nativity set, in Christmas — and in life.

True to the nature of life, that sense of serenity didn’t last very long. During one night, a kitten I had rescued walked across the mantel and sent my Mary crashing to the stone slab below … shattering her to pieces.

I was heartbroken.

The following Christmas, I unpacked the Nativity scene once again and looked over the broken pieces of Mary. It seemed an impossible task but eventually we glued her somewhat haphazardly back together and placed her carefully on a shelf inside a closed cabinet.

Fragile with missing pieces … forever broken.

A couple of days before Christmas this year, I woke early to wrap my children’s Christmas presents so I could get them hidden away again before my son with autism woke. I sipped my coffee and settled into the rhythm of methodical wrapping while my children slept and my thoughts wandered.

It didn’t take very long until memories began to stir in the midst of the rustling paper and whispering scissors. Memories of long ago that seem to rise to the surface whenever I am wrapping Christmas presents.

I remember the Christmas when I had just the two boys, before my daughter was born.
I don’t remember much from that time but I know I didn’t wrap any presents that year.
I couldn’t. I just couldn’t do it.
I’m pretty sure I bought gifts for my boys and I may have bought wrapping paper —
but somehow, wrapping those presents seemed far too monumental a task.
Autism, intense sleep deprivation, behaviors, a fussy baby, and difficult family dynamics.
It was a hard season.
While there are many gaps in my memory, I’ve never forgotten those unwrapped presents nor the lingering guilt.

Those memories wandered through me once more and, same as years past, I thanked the Lord for the beauty of being able to wrap Christmas presents for my children now. This was going to be a good Christmas … I was going to make sure of that.

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*

Before I finished wrapping the presents however, my oldest son came down the stairs and before long was in the midst of a seemingly random meltdown. By the time I had worked through that relatively mild crisis with him, the restful joy I had been feeling as I wrapped presents was slowly vanishing like the morning mist.

Then I saw pictures on social media that sent the last of it flying away. There is such an overwhelming sense of sadness that hits when one of your children is left out of a circle of friends. This time, it triggered something deep inside.

I found myself in a war between deep sadness, old anger, and a desire for righteousness.

I prayed. Oh, how I prayed.

I didn’t understand the depth that was stirred in me nor where it had come from.

Suddenly, this Christmas, like so many before, had become overwhelming.

*
*

Then a different Christmas memory began to stir. A memory I have always wished I could erase from my mind completely. I was nine or ten years old when an adored family member chose to go a different way in life. There were a series of decisions and selfish behaviors that sparked significant grief in my family and inspired a rather traumatic scene that Christmas. As those memories replayed through my thoughts, I realized just how deeply that time period had affected my life … and how I viewed Christmas.

My family’s entire reality changed that year. The childhood I knew was gone. And Christmas, that year and every year thereafter, was forever altered.

As I pondered these memories, the word, ‘expectations’ to mind and I began to understand that, because of the gaping hole left behind from that crushing Christmas, I have walked through life looking for something, anything to fill the empty spaces that were left behind. I began to understand that my identity had been intrinsically tied to memories of that Christmas and that overall traumatic time in my family’s story.

However, because of the work Christ has done in my life in recent years, I could also see the emptiness of my own efforts trying to glue the pieces back together … the futility of my own works.

I looked at my broken Mary on the shelf and realized she was me. Broken, with pieces missing, held perilously together by glue, ready to fall apart with the slightest touch.

But I also knew this was not who God created me to be. God’s plan for me does not include walking through life with holes and broken pieces from the decisions and actions of others … or my own, for that matter. God’s plan for me does not include using a glue gun to gingerly hold pieces together so I can at least look like I have it together. The brokenness of the past no longer defined me.

On Christmas Eve, I confessed my sin to God and handed Him my broken memories and missing pieces. Then, as I looked at my broken Mary in the cabinet, I asked God for more. More of Him. More wholeness. More of His transforming work in my life and the lives of my children. My only expectation would be Him.

Come, Thou long expected Jesus
Born to set Thy people free;
From our fears and sins release us,
Let us find our rest in Thee.
Israel’s strength and consolation,
Hope of all the earth Thou art;
Dear desire of every nation,
Joy of every longing heart.

*
*

Christmas morning, after my children opened all their presents, my daughter brought her gift to me and knelt before me in anticipation, her eyes shining like stars in the night sky. After opening the box, I pulled out something wrapped in layer upon layer of bubble wrap and by the time I got to the last layer, I could see what lay inside …

A new Mary.

Unbroken. Whole. Complete.

My precious girl understood that the broken Mary was a source of sadness to me and apparently had been wanting to replace her for some time. When she earned some baby-sitting money, she reached out to her Grandmother and older cousin for help and between all their efforts, a new Mary was purchased.

After some tears and sweet hugs, I immediately went to the cabinet and carefully removed the broken Mary, who came out in pieces. As I did so, I noticed something I had not seen before. Mary was shattered into pieces, but the baby Jesus she was holding was not.

Mary was broken, but Jesus never was.

In my hands I held the truth that so long had evaded me. Life had caused sorrow and ripped holes inside of me. I had patched them together as well as I could but my efforts could not bring wholeness. Yet, Jesus has remained unbroken, solid, and completely true through all of the years. He was the center of what held the remainder of the broken Mary together.

I tenderly placed my broken Mary on the table and then picked up my new Mary, also holding sweet baby Jesus in her arms. As I placed her in the cabinet, a passage from Zechariah 3 came to mind … in these verses, the high priest Joshua was being accused by Satan as he stood in his own filthy clothes before an angel of the Lord. This is a picture of us in the filthy rags of our own righteousness standing before the Lord as we are also being accused by Satan. But, for Joshua the high priest, as well as, for the believer today, this is not the end of the story.

Now Joshua was clothed with filthy garments and standing before the angel. He spoke and said to those who were standing before him, saying, “Remove the filthy garments from him.” Again he said to him, “See, I have taken your iniquity away from you and will clothe you with festal robes.”
(Zechariah 3:3,4)

Christ has removed our iniquity as well by the sacrifice of the cross. When we accept His gift of salvation, our filthy garments are replaced with beautiful robes of His righteousness. No longer can Satan accuse us.

Christ’s gift, His sacrifice, makes us whole.

*
*

On Christmas day, I stood between my two Marys … one broken and one whole.

One purchased by her own works with broken pieces held together by worthless glue and the other, whole and complete … a gift.

One Mary representing who I was and the other … who I am now and will be in Christ.

A promise, if you will.

I will rejoice greatly in the Lord,
My soul will exult in my God;
For He has clothed me with garments of salvation,
He has wrapped me with a robe of righteousness,
As a bridegroom decks himself with a garland,
And as a bride adorns herself with her jewels.
Isaiah 61:10

You know, it was not in my power to make Christmas ‘good’ this year
— but Jesus made it beautiful.

**Come, Thou long expected Jesus written by Charles Wesley**

Jesus is Still in the Boat

December 9, 2019 / walkingthisjourneysite / Leave a comment

I took my son to the doctor for a physical this past week. I know, I know … probably not a news-worthy story to most people. I understand. But in my world, this was a matter of significance and great importance. My son is 18 years old now, of considerable size, has autism … and anything medical related is scary, But, due to a different need, this physical was required. You see, my son also has a life-long, intense anxiety regarding dentists, which inhibits even the most basic of exams. A couple of months ago, I finally learned of and reached out to a new dentist who offers sedation dentistry at a surgical center near their office, well over an hour away from our home. This dentist specializes in children, but also works with special needs adults … many of whom share my son’s fears. With the support of his teacher, we attempted a consultation visit with the dentist, which by the standards of most was not successful, but allowed him to be scheduled for sedation. The dentist assured me that they would take him on as a patient and, with those words, a significant burden began to lift from my shoulders.

The process to be seen for sedation is quite involved, both from the surgery center’s viewpoint as well as, from the needs of my son, so I have been working towards this appointment for the last couple of months. It has been a stressful but I was so thankful. For the first time ever, I didn’t feel as alone in this particular battle. I paid the upfront expenses and scheduled the sedation appointment. All the pieces were coming together fairly well so that the only major task left was the physical, which was required by the surgery center to clear him for sedation.

Now, my son is only slightly less fearful of doctors than he is of dentists so I was concerned about the success of this appointment; However, medical desensitization is a goal written into his IEP at his specialized autism school. Staff have been working with him, as I have been, for a number of years and he has made progress. I was nervous but hopeful the appointment would go well enough that the doctor would be able to supply the information the surgery center needed.

In a situation such as this, all I can do is prepare my son as much as possible, support him every step of the way, pray (pretty much without ceasing), and trust the Lord for the outcome.

My son was successful with this physical in the eyes of the Doctor, his teacher who was there to support him, and especially me. Even though he refused to allow certain things, we were able to do more than ever before and the doctor cleared him for sedation. We were so proud of him!

I was incredibly thankful as it appeared all was well and going according to plan. We just had one more week until his sedation appointment and then the worry of his teeth and the weight of this appointment would be behind me … just in time to focus exclusively on the Christmas season.

*
*

I have been reading the book of Luke this advent season, trying to read a chapter a day so that I can finish the account on Christmas Eve. It is so easy to lose sight of why we observe this most treasured of holidays in the midst of all the bustle of festivities and concerns of this life, so I decided to focus my reading on the birth, ministry, death, and resurrection of Christ. I started out a day behind and, as a result, I ended up reading Luke 5 on December 6th, this past Friday. Now, I have read the story of Jesus telling Simon to take his boat out to the deep waters and cast his nets countless times before. It isn’t new to me. But on this particular morning, as I read Simon’s response, my breath caught and to my surprise, tears filled my eyes.

Now it happened that while the crowd was pressing around Him and listening to the word of God, He was standing by the lake of Gennesaret; and He saw two boats lying at the edge of the lake; but the fishermen had gotten out of them and were washing their nets. And He got into one of the boats, which was Simon’s, and asked him to put out a little way from the land. And He sat down and began teaching the people from the boat. When He had finished speaking, He said to Simon, “Put out into the deep water and let down your nets for a catch.”Simon answered and said, ‘Master, we worked hard all night and caught nothing, but I will do as you say and let down the nets.’ (verses 1-5)

Wow, Simon’s words reverberated through me with considerable force. I have worked for years trying to help my son. I would take him to the doctor by myself and those appointments were battles. Very real battles. I tried taking him to the dentist and those battles were even uglier. I would drive him once a week to a dentist office 45 minutes away just to work on desensitizing him by myself. My attempts to take him places backfired. Special diets were not helpful. Special therapies did little. I rarely, if ever, saw any fruit from the labor. I grew exhausted from the continual battles and lack of help. My nets were always empty.

This grew into a discouragement in its rawest form. Trying to help a child who is not typical in any way and who was unable to respond to my efforts. Carrying the weight of those nets myself without a single soul to help. Learning to hide those failures from others because I knew they simply couldn’t relate and often would condemn. Feeling guilty that my best efforts weren’t enough. Building walls to protect us both. Feeling frightened for the days ahead.

I know a thing or two about empty nets.

But let’s look at what happened when Simon obeyed the command of Jesus, even though his own experience and earthly knowledge must have counselled him otherwise?

“When they had done this, they enclosed a great quantity of fish, and their nets began to break; so they signaled to their partners in the other boat for them to come and help them. And they came and filled both of the boats, so that they began to sink.” (verses 6-7)

All night Simon and his companions had worked casting their nets into the waters, yet not catching a single fish. They must have been weary and discouraged with their circumstances and nothing to show for their labor. But once Jesus stepped into his boat and told him try again, their nets were soon filled to the point of breaking and sinking their boats because of all of the fish! What was the difference?

Jesus was in the boat.

*
*

A few years ago, I sat in my boat and looked at my empty nets. I was at my end and uncertain how I could possibly face another day. Then Jesus stepped into my boat and told me to go out into the deep waters once more and cast my nets. I was undeniably weary from my own efforts so with broken faith, I obeyed the voice of my Savior. I cast those nets in waters that I had fished countless times before but this time, something odd began to happen. Over time, doors began to open that had been previously closed. Support arose from places that had been hidden before. My son slowly began to mature and make the kind of progress I had given up on ever seeing. While the journey was (and continues to be) still hard, it was clear that Jesus was in the boat.

As I read the interaction between Jesus and Simon in Luke 5 this time, I became overwhelmed with thankfulness. My best efforts in the past produced empty nets because even though I prayed, I usually worked in my own sufficiency, while rooted in fear. But with Jesus in the boat, I have seen full nets on many occasions. So that morning, as I read Luke 5 and contemplated the upcoming sedation dentist appointment for my son, I hoped for and anticipated the same kind of results. I was anxious to see a net full of fish.

*
*

The surgery center called a few hours later. As soon as I heard the nurse’s voice, I sensed something was wrong. It took her a moment before she could say the words … the anesthesia team had reviewed all the information regarding my son and decided they could not accommodate him at their facility. So, after months of working towards this goal and just one week away from the appointment, they cancelled his sedation surgery.

Shock is really the only word I have for what I was feeling as I listened to the nurse and then the anesthesiologist who explained their reasoning. As their words echoed through my mind, I could only think of the amount of work, time, prayer, worry to the point of sickness, and lack of sleep that have occurred over these last two months as I have worked towards this long-awaited goal. I was stunned to have it so abruptly halted without any sense of resolution. The hope I had felt for the first time was ripped from my grasp.

Heartbroken silence surrounded me as I stood at the edge of my boat, staring blankly into the depths of the waters around me, with nothing but empty nets to show. I never felt more alone.

But …

Jesus was still in the boat.

*
*

It is advent season, a time to observe and ponder the earthly arrival, ministry, and sacrifice of Jesus, the Son of the Most High. As a Christian, this is a most precious and joyous time.

In the book of Mathew, the first chapter begins with the genealogy of Jesus and then gives the account of the angel talking to Joseph in a dream as he considered what to do with Mary, his espoused wife.

“Joseph son of David, do not be afraid to take Mary home as your wife, because what is conceived in her is from the Holy Spirit. She will give birth to a son, and you are to give him the name Jesus, because he will save his people from their sins.”

All this took place to fulfill what the Lord had said through the prophet: “The virgin will conceive and give birth to a son, and they will call him Emmanuel” (which means “God with us”). Mathew 1:20-23

Emmanuel … God with us.

We often enter this blessed season with great expectations of tidy, neat gifts under the tree, happy children, cooperative and loving families, Christmas plays and cantatas, good will and kindness, and well, perfection. But what do we do when we enter this season and our realities simply do not match those expectations? What do we do when we don’t get what we wish for … or even long for?

At this point, I am unsure what to do about meeting the dental needs of my son. I have learned that people around me simply do not grasp what this journey has been like, even those in my own household, so once more, it feels a lonely and heavy weight. I threw the nets where I believed the Lord was directing me and yet, here I sit with them empty once more. In the days since the phone call, I have been praying in the quiet, letting all of this sink in, and considering the next steps, as the name, Emmanuel has been echoing through the silence …

God with us.

Friends, this is our hope always but, most especially during a Christmas season when circumstances are difficult and we are unsure what to do next. We can remember the fact that Jesus, the very Son of God, humbled Himself and came to Earth in the form of a baby. We can ponder the works He did and the words He spoke as He walked this world. We can consider the depth of His sacrifice on the cross as He suffered and died on our behalf so that we could be free from sin and death. We can rest and rejoice in the fact that He rose from the dead and now sits at the right hand of God the Father, interceding on our behalf.

Because we believe this to be true, based on the Word of God, we are never alone, no matter the circumstances, challenges, or trials we face. He is our source of comfort and strength. He will fill our empty nets in His time and in His way.

Emmanuel … God with us.

Jesus is still in the boat.

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