Jesus

Summer Writing 2 : When I think I Can’t

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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.

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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

/ 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

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“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

abstract brick bricks brickwork

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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.

 

 

assorted color flowers

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Trust

/ 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.

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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.

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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.”

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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.

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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?

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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.

 

 

Where Beauty Dwells

/ walkingthisjourneysite / 1 Comment

In the darkness of the night, while the rest of my family slept upstairs, I sat up with my son as he escalated into a full-blown autism rage.

Given that his verbal skills are very limited, he was not able to explain to me why he was awakened at two in the morning or why he was feeling so enraged.  In these situations, I am always left guessing and trying to stay two steps ahead so I can either avoid these storms altogether, or at the very least, keep him safe and help him deescalate as quickly as possible.

On this particular night, however, all the pieces fell into place for a truly terrible storm.

As the worst of the storm began to ease, what was left of my strength and self-control broke as if it were delicate china plate dropped onto a hard tile floor.

A million pieces, jagged and sharp, scattered everywhere.

Shattered.

My heart was broken.

It was a dark night of the soul.

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

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When I went outside to pull weeds in my flower beds the next morning, it was a matter of will … not heart.  Time to invest in outdoor work is limited and procrastination only creates a bigger job that still needs done later, so I am learning to do what I can, when I can.

The memory of the previous night was deeply entrenched in my thoughts and with each pull of those tenacious weeds from my flower beds, it felt as if I was pulling every dream and every hope I have ever had and simply tossing them away.   Some of the big dreams that yet remained, but mostly it was the more simple dreams that I hold onto most deeply … friendship, companionship, community, belonging, love.

The pervading question that has been following me though out my entire life broke through once more in a weakened cry towards heaven … Why am I here?

Please Lord, is this all you have for me?

A cry whispered, not in self-pity or with a complaining spirit, but simply with a heart that has been broken time and time again.

“My eyes are continually toward the Lord, for He will pluck my feet out of the net.
Turn to me and be gracious to me, for I am lonely and afflicted.
The troubles of my heart are enlarged; Bring me out of my distresses.
Look upon my affliction and my trouble, and forgive all my sins.”
Psalm 25:15-18

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As I cleared out the beds of weeds and freed the budding flowers from their grasp, I was reminded once more of the beauty springtime brings to my home.  My ancient lilac bush with its fragrant blossoms filled the air, while I cleared around my astilbe and forget-me-nots.  The bleeding heart that I transplanted last fall, now grew splendid and full.  Even the lush (and overgrown) green grass captured my attention as I pushed the wheelbarrow through the yard.  I found myself stopping just to stare at the sweet little dandelions and violets that speckled it, like freckles across a little girl’s sun-kissed nose.

Everywhere I looked there was the glorious color of spring.  Each step revealed a new fragrance and a new part of nature awakening from its long winter’s nap.

The Lord used this beauty of new life to reawaken a soul disillusioned and weary.

Beauty was the word I heard over and over.

And you know, that began to trouble me.

“I would have despaired unless I had believed that I would see the goodness of the Lord in the land of the living.  Wait for the Lord, Be strong and let your heart take courage; Yes, wait for the Lord.”
Psalm 27:13-14

 

 

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In the days since that difficult night, there have been more challenges and entire days spent outside working, meditating, and seeking God’s wisdom.

‘Beauty’ … a word not typically applied to me continued to whisper through my thoughts.

When I began to tackle the long-neglected bank in the front of my home, I soon found myself immersed in a project much larger than I anticipated.  The weeds were deep but beneath them were elaborate root systems and winding through it all were many vines of poison ivy.  The bank was ugly.  It was overrun with weeds, dead grass, trash tossed from the cars driving by on the road … and that poison.  As I worked tenaciously and ripped at those weeds, I began to see small remnants of beauty from years past.  The fern-like greens of poppy flowers sprung out in relief as I tore the weeds that were overpowering them.  Dozens of earthworms wriggled and squirmed as I loosened the earth around them.  Beautiful, massive rocks placed for landscaping began to emerge and even though I was weary from battling the vines and weeds, I was becoming entranced by the beauty that lay hidden and neglected for so many years.

It was and continues to be a process to unearth and awaken that beauty, but I can almost see what it is to become.  What it was meant to be.  What it could be.  Even though I am covered now in poison ivy and rain is falling, my thoughts are often focused on the work that yet needs to be done … the work to reawaken the beauty of that bank.  A gentle beauty that I hope will be a welcoming sight to all who pass by.

It is a slow transformation process.

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I have spent a lifetime longing for and seeking after beauty.

Nothing I tried ever worked and truthfully, I know I don’t have much to work with.

But, even girls like me long to be seen as beautiful.  We want to be loved and cherished as much as anyone.  We long for the day that someone will see beauty in us because often, we cannot see it for ourselves.

When I married, I foolishly followed my naive heart.  I thought the only reason someone would marry me was because I was loved … I was finally seen as beautiful.  I tried to do whatever it took to earn a love that I thought was meant for me.

What took me years to understand was that people don’t always marry for love.

And sometimes, no matter what you do, you will never be able to earn love.

The reality took years to sink in and the impact it had on my soul was even more devastating than the pervasive poison ivy and weeds that overtook the bank in front of my home.

I know what it is to live a life completely imprisoned in sin and brokenness.

I know what it is like to be unwanted.

Disillusioned.

Alone.

I also know what it is to be a mother watching her child suffer with a hidden disability and unable to tell me what is hurting him so deeply.

I know what it is to go without sleep for years.

Without touch.

Without communication.

Without hope.

I know and have experienced more that you may realize.

And because of all this, I am confident in what I am about to say.

I know Jesus is the answer.

Jesus comes into our lives with more love than we can possibly imagine and He takes on the difficult task of ripping out the lies of deception that are entangled throughout us.  He takes the tools of truth and loosens up the hardened soil that entraps us so He can set us free and transform our lives into beauty for His glory.

Sisters, your world might be falling apart and you might be thinking there is no way out.

Maybe you think if you leave your marriage and find a different man, it will be better.

Maybe if you have one more drink, you won’t need to feel.

Maybe if you stay just busy enough, you can hide the ugliness inside with your own works of beauty.

Maybe … maybe.

I can tell you from experience that only Jesus can bring beauty from the ashes of our lives.  Only Jesus can set us free from the life-killing weeds of sin and loosen the packed earth around us.  Only He can undo the neglect.  Only Jesus.

There are no maybes with Him.

“For I am confident of this very thing, that He who began a good work in you will perfect it until the day of Christ Jesus.”  Philippians 1:6

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When I started this post, I was going to call it Moments of Beauty and simply share what I could while staying detached from the word ‘beauty’.  Kindnesses of others … flowers … budding trees … all safe topics from a woman like me.

But as the days and weeks passed, the phrase that kept coming to mind was ‘Where Beauty Dwells’ 

I can’t share with you what I know of beauty unless you understand a little of where I come from and why beauty is not my normal.

My heart knows brokenness and ugliness.

But because of Jesus, my heart also knows and recognizes beauty.

Through the redeeming work of the cross,  He is in the process of sanctifying and transforming me to become more like Him … and that is where beauty dwells.

Maybe not the kind of beauty the world wants from me … but a hidden, internal beauty that seeks only to glorify Christ.

Wherever Jesus dwells and transforms, there is beauty.

What beauty are you seeking?

 

“… And provide for those who grieve in Zion—
to bestow on them a crown of beauty
    instead of ashes,
the oil of joy
    instead of mourning,
and a garment of praise
    instead of a spirit of despair.
They will be called oaks of righteousness,
    a planting of the Lord
    for the display of his splendor.”
Isaiah 61:3

 

 

 

 

 

How Can It Be A ‘Good Friday’?

/ walkingthisjourneysite / 1 Comment

“One day when Heaven Was filled with His praises,
One day when sin was As black as could be,
Jesus came forth To be born of a virgin,
Dwelt among men, my example is He!”

 

It is has been an almost unparalleled season of trial.

So much so that our beloved Easter season is upon us and I am completely unprepared.

I have nothing to give my children, true, but even more than that …

my heart hasn’t felt prepared.

I haven’t done the reading I typically do.

I haven’t thought about the days leading up to Christ death.

I simply have not prepared my heart as I tend to do during this season.

By yesterday, as I stumbled through the day on two hours of sleep, kept after my 18 year old son with autism who seems to have reengaged in behaviors from his younger years during this spring break, and did all the work a mother needs to do whether she is sleep-deprived or not, I felt crushed beneath the weight of the load.  I have felt this way for months but this week has felt too much.

I went to bed feeling somewhat defeated.

Such is the case when the trials of life are of the long-term variety and your journey tends to be one of isolation and loneliness.

Sometimes your body just begins to break down and your spirit groans within you.

Sometimes you just lay in your bed too weary to weep, too broken to speak, yet too overwhelmed to sleep.

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“…He withdrew from them about a stone’s throw, and He knelt down and began to pray, saying, “Father, if You are willing, remove this cup from Me, yet not My will, but Yours be done.” Now an angel from heaven appeared and strengthened Him. And being in agony He was praying very fervently; and His sweat became like drops of blood, falling down upon the ground.”  Luke 22:41-44

 

After a somewhat challenging night of sleep, I woke this morning and was immediately reminded that it was Good Friday.

The day we Christians observe the sacrifice and overwhelming love of our Savior.

When He, after a lonely night of agonizing prayer to God the Father, He submitted His will and prepared to lay down His life … for mine.

And yours.

How can this Friday possibly be considered ‘good’?

Propelling my exhausted body off the couch at the insistence of my dog who wanted to go outside, I began to make my way through the house, letting her out, making coffee, and trying to wake fully.

When I did, I saw the beauty of sunshine.

I saw green grass and yellow forsythias blooming.

I saw trees filled with the promise of spring as buds filled their branches.

I saw new life.

And I began to ponder this day in history.

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“One day they led Him up Calvary’s mountain,
One day they nailed Him to die on the tree;
Suffering anguish, despised and rejected:
Bearing our sins, my Redeemer is He!

 

Sometimes I wonder what Jesus was thinking as He stood before Pilate and Herod.  When He was struck and beaten, scorned and reviled, mocked and stripped?

How did He endure such torment and torture?

When He fell beneath the weight of the cross on the way to Golgotha, was Heaven on His mind?  Or was it the reason for his sacrifice?

The creation that He came to redeem.

When He laid down on the cross, holding still as the soldiers nailed him fast …

When they hoisted the cross into the air, jolting his already broken body …

As He struggled to breathe while listening to the crowd mock and jeer …

Feeling a separation from His Father for the first time …

And all the darkness rejoicing to see the One they hated suffer …

Was He thinking, “One day, a child is going to cry out for forgiveness and because of this day, I will be able to forgive her and call her my own.”?

“One day that child of Mine will face incredible heartache and grief and will want to give up but because of what I am enduring, I will be able to help her endure.”

“One day she will feel broken but because of my brokenness, she will be healed.”

“And one day I will bring her home with Me to heaven and I will wipe away all her tears because sin will no longer touch her life.”

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“It was now about the sixth hour, and darkness fell over the whole land until the ninth hour, because the sun was obscured; and the veil of the temple was torn in two.  And Jesus, crying out with a loud voice, said, “Father, into Your hands, I commit My Spirit.” Having said this, He breathed His last.”  Luke 23:44-46

 

Have you ever wondered what all transpired in the time after Jesus spoke those words and in the days following?

The immense grief and fear of His followers as they cared for his broken body and placed Him in a borrowed tomb?

The awed silence in Heaven as the angels waited and watched?

The laughter and wicked rejoicing from all the powers of darkness and hell?

Sometimes this is what life feels like to us too.

Times of grief … times of waiting … times of uncertainty … times of silence while the wicked rejoice and seemingly thrive.

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“One day the grave Could conceal Him no longer,
One day the stone rolled away from the door;
Then He arose, over death He had conquered;
Now is ascended, my Lord evermore!”

 

I like to ponder that moment in heaven when God the Father told the angels it was time.

After three days of silence while watching the masses of hell scream in victory, it was time for the true Victor to rise.

The earth shook and the massive stone was rolled away as Jesus Christ broke free from the cruel clutches of death and stood at the door of His tomb … no longer in His broken earthly body, but standing tall as the risen and holy Son of God.

The quiet of heaven must have broken forth with glorious song as the powers darkness and hell now watched in stunned silence.

And then days later, that same Jesus, who had come to this earth as a baby, lived, loved, and served before dying an agonizing death on the cross, rose into the heavens taking His rightful place beside His Father.

The Lamb.

The Sacrifice.

Our Redeemer.

The One who paid the penalty of sin and death so we don’t have to.

The One who defeated sin and stands before the Father making intercession for us.

The One who is well-acquainted with grief and who helps us bear our sorrows.

Because He lives, we can face tomorrow with confidence, peace, and joy, knowing we are secure in Him.

It is a Good Friday indeed.

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“One day the trumpet will sound for His coming,
One day the skies with His glory will shine;
Wonderful day, my beloved One bringing;
Glorious Savior, this Jesus is mine!

Living, He loved me; dying, He saved me;
Buried, He carried my sins far away;
Rising He justified freely forever:
One day He’s coming– O glorious day!”

  ~One Day written by J.Wilbur Chapman (1910)~

beach clouds dawn dusk

Photo by Josh Sorenson on Pexels.com

~ A Girl, A Dress, and Jesus ~

/ walkingthisjourneysite / 2 Comments

My niece is getting married this summer and she has asked my 13 (soon to be 14) year old daughter, MB, to be her junior bridesmaid.  I am so excited this precious niece of mine is marrying such a wonderful man, but what makes it all even sweeter is having my daughter invited to be a part of the ceremony.

The wedding plans are being pulled together in a relatively short period of time and finding a dress for my daughter did not seem to be that difficult of a challenge, especially in comparison to finding a venue, the bride’s dress, or a caterer.  The fact that my niece lives a few hours away and is only able to visit home on occasional weekends, pushed the search for a bridesmaid dress lower and lower on the to-do list.

We finally found an open window with my niece (and Grandma) to visit our only local bridal store (local for us means a 45 minute drive) on a Sunday afternoon in the midst of an exceptionally busy weekend, which had left my ‘shopping-intolerant’ daughter already exhausted.

We met our consultant, ‘Cricket’ (Isn’t that the most fun name??), and began looking through the fairly small selection of junior bridesmaid dresses and picking out a few for MB to try on.  One, in particular, we were hoping would work because it was similar to what another attendant would be wearing and we knew it could be ordered in time in the color we needed.  Each dress was quickly dismissed by my daughter for simply not fitting her petite frame well or feeling very uncomfortable.

Except one.

Cricket brought a dress to the fitting room that I had eyed earlier but which had been dismissed because of its vibrant design. She suggested my daughter try it as she assured us that it could be ordered in the mint green color our bride desired.  MB tried it on, slowly opened the dressing room door, and there she stood with the first smile of the appointment!  She loved this dress and we loved it on her — it was absolutely perfect!

We were sure this was ‘the one.’

Then Cricket cautioned us not to get too excited because said she needed to make sure it could be ordered in time for the quickly approaching June wedding.  All of our hearts sank as she came back, shaking her head, and informing us that it was absolutely impossible to get this dress in time.  The soonest it would arrive in the needed mint green was a full month AFTER the wedding.  We were so disappointed and I watched my daughter wilt as she tried on more dresses, wanting to please everyone, but feeling dreadfully uncomfortable.  That unattainable dress was the only one she liked and felt comfortable in … the only one that was guaranteed to arrive in time was the one she hated most of all and felt the most uncomfortable in.

Finally, I called a halt.  I suggested that we stop for the day and that we would come back another day, just my daughter and I.  Our consultant agreed and told me to call and make an appointment with her … she insisted she would be able to find something.

I made an appointment for the following Saturday and tried not to think too much about it.  I saw the selection and knew we didn’t have a lot of options.  I checked local department stores, but none seemed to carry anything remotely appropriate for the wedding.  I kept praying about it and finally, Saturday morning, I asked the Lord to somehow provide a way for my daughter to get the dress she loved in the mint green color, despite the clear impossibilities, or if not that one, to provide another dress that she would love and be just as comfortable in.  I just wanted her to feel comfortable, beautiful, and wrapped in love for this very special day.  We all did.

We arrived a little before 4:00 for our appointment, only to learn that our appointment was actually scheduled for 4:30 and our consultant was working with a bride.  The lady at the front desk said that if we didn’t want to wait, other consultants were available and even though my time-efficiency instinct started to kick in, I felt deep inside that we needed to wait for Cricket.  So I told her we would wait and simply look around, which I did with a reluctant daughter in tow.  I finally drew out of her that she had convinced herself that she needed to get that one dress that we knew would arrive on time, even if she hated it for herself.

We only had to wait a few minutes before our consultant successfully sold her bride a lovely wedding dress and was ready for us.  We did decide to try that hated dress on once more in a bigger size, as well as, another one that I had found.  She started with the second dress and liked it but before we could celebrate, Cricket warned us that this dress probably wouldn’t arrive on time for the June wedding either.  So, with a heavy heart, I asked my daughter to try on the first dress … the hated one.

She tried it on and we helped zipper the back only to discover it was a size too big so Cricket decided to have her try on a smaller size  … a size six. As we waited for her to bring it to us, I watched with sadness as my daughter squirmed and itched and pulled at her dress.  I knew that the size six would not feel any more comfortable for her and that she was miserable in the dress.  But I also knew that given the time restraints, at the present time, it seemed our only option.

My heart cried out to the Lord to do something for her because I felt powerless.

Cricket brought her the dress in a size 6 and as my daughter was changing, she told me that she wanted to go grab another dress.  She said it was a really cute dress, it was actually in the mint green color we needed, and it was a size 6 … just like the dress my girl was trying on.

So she went to get it while I waited and hoped for a miracle.

And then she returned,  carrying a lovely, mint green, flowing dress …

the VERY DRESS my daughter had tried on the week before and LOVED!

The very dress we were told could never arrive in time for our June wedding.

Right there in front of me.

I am sure my jaw hit the floor as I exclaimed to the consultant that it was the same dress … the one we wanted so badly from the week before.  She looked at it again and her eyes widened before getting all excited herself.   She shared with me that this particular dress had been driving her crazy all day because it had been hanging by itself in the wrong section and every time she walked by it, she noticed it but she never had time to put it away.  Because she saw it all day and because it bothered her all day, it came to mind as she was helping us.

She then said in a hushed, awe-filled voice, “I think it must have been set aside in the wrong place because this dress was meant for Mary Beth.  It was just waiting for her to get here.”

I smiled as I remembered my cry to the Lord that morning and simply said, “Oh, I know it was.”

My daughter, completely unaware of what was transpiring outside her door, slowly opened it and asked if I could zipper the back.  I refused and told her that we had another dress to try on first and moved aside so she could see the dress Cricket was holding … oh, her face was pure delight as she immediately recognized it!

The next time she opened the door, her face was glowing and her trademark smile was back in place.  Cricket told her she looked beautiful and she glowed even more.  Cricket gave the dress a going over and while it was a little too big, she felt sure it could easily be altered to fit MB’s petite frame.

This dress, the only dress my daughter loved and which had been absolutely unavailable to us just a week before, arrived at the bridal store in the days between our first and second appointments … in the very color we needed.  Then on Saturday, it was misplaced and set apart in a section that caught Cricket’s attention all day until the very moment when she was drawn to it for Mary Beth.  The right color … an easily alterable size … the perfect dress.

Usually these dresses have to be ordered but Cricket said that this dress was meant for Mary Beth so she sold it to us, right off the rack.  It was even on sale!

As we walked towards the counter, all of us smiling and in complete awe of what had just transpired, my niece sent me a text asking how the dress search was going. We all stopped in the middle of the store as I texted her the picture I had taken of my daughter wearing the beautiful dress with a delighted smile to match … it was such a wonderful moment of shared joy between all of us.

At 4:31, one minute after our scheduled appointment time, I walked out of the store with the perfect dress in one arm and my other arm wrapped around my sweet daughter.  As the doors fell shut behind us, I said softly into her ear, “Oh my darling, do you have any idea how much Jesus must love you?”

She simply gave her little giggle, smiled her most beautiful smile, and said “Yes, I think so.”

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Life is hard.  Many of us fight incredibly battles every day and the journey can be wearisome.  I know there is often a temptation to doubt God, be disappointed in the continual hardships, and maybe even give in to despair.  But this is the beauty of a journey with Christ … even when the path is hard, He is caring and providing for us.  Maybe not always in the way we want or think we need … but He is always at work on our behalf.

He loves us so deeply, even if we aren’t always aware of it.

Sometimes it is a friend offering to bring a meal when she learns you are sick.

Sometimes it is a card in the mail or maybe a phone call.

Sometimes it is the lovely bloom of the first flowers of spring after a long, hard winter.

And sometimes, it is the perfect junior bridesmaid dress … in mint green.