Tuesday, December 27, 2011

Rules for Relationship

  Christmas seems to juxtapose the holy and the hectic, gratitude and grumbling; reflective worship and stressful frenzy.  I so desperately want to keep my focus on the gift of Christ.  Yet Jesus drifts to my periphery while demands and tasks occupy my focus.  I'm a first born "Martha" who works like crazy in the kitchen, doing all the responsible stuff and resenting those who seem so nonchalant, relaxed. . . and unhelpful!!  Yesterday was Christmas Eve and my prayer from the moment I woke up was "Jesus, let me worship.  I have a mountain of work to do, but let me worship You even as I work.  Let me not succumb to stress and driven-ness."

      But, there is a crazy prerequisite to worship and that is repentance.  I suspect that my reluctance to worship is rooted in the my reluctance to repent.  You see, even though I want to worship Jesus, there is something that I love more than Jesus:  my rules.   Although grace has freed me from the rules of religion, I am still imprisoned by the rules for relationship that I have created for myself.  Ironically, these rules are never more apparent than at Christmas!  Somehow that toxic mix of family togetherness, expectations and busy-ness often brings more disappointment than joy, anger than gladness, isolation than intimacy.

     My rules are subtle and seem justifiable, and not easily recognized.  But, when anger and judgementalness rear their ugly heads, I can follow their trail and find they originate in my rules for relationship.  Here is just a sampling:  "It must be nice for ________ to sit and watch t.v., while I have been on my feet all day."  "Why am I the only one working?"  "After all I've done, not a single person has said thank you."  "I'm just a commodity -- people only value me for what I do."  "I can't believe how selfish _______________is!"

      I don't think my rules are unreasonable.  (Don't all reasonable people keep these same rules?!)  But, when these rules are broken, even inadvertently, by those close to me, I explode or escape.  Sadly, those closest to me experience my anger as I try to shame them into living by the rules.   But just as ugly is when I am silent.  I retreat with my "friends" self-pity, resentment and cynicism.  I isolate myself and let my heart shrivel under the urging of my false friends.   I choose the seeming safety of self-protection and withdrawal, but it is death to my heart.  I am imprisoned by my rules. 

     I need to be rescued.  And THIS is the essence of Christmas:  Jesus came to rescue me. . . from my failures, my hurtfulness, my sin AND from my rules.  Jesus came because rules are not enough.  The Ten Commandments could not save the Jews and my "rules for relationship" cannot save me.  Paul says it so clearly when he writes to the Romans:

      "Therefore no one will be declared righteous in his sight by observing the law (RULES!); rather 
       through the law we become conscious of sin.  But now a righteousness from God, apart from law, 
       has been made  known to which the Law and the Prophets testify.  This righteousness from God 
       comes through faith in Jesus Christ to all who believe. . . . for all have sinned and fall short of the 
       glory of God, and are justified  freely by His grace through the redemption that came by Christ 
       Jesus."  (Romans 3:  20-24)

     I think I like living by my rules, because it makes me feel in control.  I get angry when my rules are broken, because I'm not in control.  To repent and receive grace is to lose control.  It feels like jumping out of a plane without a working parachute.  Such helplessness seems crazy, ill-advised, foolish!  But I am never jumping alone.  Jesus is taking the jump with me and guiding me to a safe landing.
      So on Christmas Eve, as my heart was filled with a the pressure of "things to do" and a litany of injustice done to me, I felt Jesus pulling me out of the plane.  I didn't want to repent, but I did want to worship.  I wanted to exchange my critical spirit and anger, for joy and peace.  And Jesus so kindly replayed for me how I constantly violated His rule of love.  Simply by judging others, I was a rule-breaker.  I repented -- "Jesus I am sorry.  Show me how to love.  Show me how to serve without expectation."  I jumped out of the plane and landed in a sweet place of worship.

    And it occurs to me that Jesus not only came to save me from my rules, but He came in a way that broke all of the rules.  It wasn't fair that He  had to come to earth to save people who had repeatedly turned their back on God.   He didn't deserve being born into a poor Jewish family in a barn.  He didn't deserve the scorn of religious leaders and the rejection by so many people.  Ultimately, he didn't deserve death.  But Jesus loved mercy more than justice.  He broke the rules, so I could have a forever relationship with God.  The realization makes me want to worship again and again.  I'll keep jumping out of the plane of my safety to know a God who loves me that much.

       "Joy to the World, the Lord has come;
        Let earth receive her king;
        Let every heart prepare Him room;
        And heaven and nature sing, and heaven and nature sing,
        And heaven, and heaven and nature sing.

        He rules the world with truth and grace
        And makes the nations prove.
        The glories of His righteousness
        And wonders of His love, and wonders of His love
        And wonders, wonders of His love."

Wednesday, December 7, 2011

Miracle Moments

     It is a miracle when a bad day ends well. 
     Yesterday morning I exchanged my agenda for God's.  I asked Him to help me be intentional with my kids, to help me love them well and pursue their character over completion of school (although the two often go together).  Evidently, this was an invitation to let all sorts of disruptions and craziness into the day.  While there issues all around, Graciela was the biggest source of angst.    The simple goal of helping her use her words and not cry for what she wants, became a herculean task (mind you, she is six!!).  It seemed the more patient I was with her, the more emotionally explosive she became.  Every task was met with resistance and tears.  Even the most innocuous situations, evoked anger and accusation from her -- "everyone is making me cry!"
     The first miracle was that I didn't follow my natural impulse of yelling at her.  Patience is always a miracle for me.  By the end of the day I felt like I'd been home with a crying infant all day -- that kind of exhaustion that leaves you moving like a robot with no energy for emotion.  I was glad, no eager, to leave at 5:30 to take Joshua to basketball practice!  And despite the cumulative fatigue, I pulled on some workout clothes and ran around the track while Josh practice.  I exchanged my emotional fatigue for physical fatigue and somehow I felt better.
     When I came home, the demands ensued.  Graciela didn't want to go to bed.  She wanted to print a picture off of the computer.  No, I couldn't do it for her in the morning.  She didn't like my pictures.  She wanted it now.  Why wouldn't I print the picture?  Could she just color one before bed. . . . ad nauseum.  Every impulse in me just wanted to throw her in bed, turn off the lights, close the door and RUN!!  But, God showed up with another deposit of patience.  Books were read, prayers were said.  And then Graciela pierced my heart. . .
     "Mommy, why did the babies die in your tummy?"  Sometime in recent months, Graciela had learned that I had miscarried three babies at different times.  Gracie is passionate about babies and of course this stirred her tender heart.  But, we had never had this conversation.  "Were they sick?  What were their names?  Do you miss them very much?"  Her sweet face was so earnest and compassionate.  And I was struck by the inexplicable mercy of God.  Graciela was here with us, because Baby Hope had died.  One life exchanged for another.  Death bringing life.  Pain giving way to joy.  A baby living a thousands of miles away, born of another mother, miraculously brought to us. 
     At the end of a bad day, God reminded me.  Pain is always redeemed in the story He is writing.  Good can come of tragedy.  And mercy is always raining down on us, even when we don't see it.  A bad day and a good God who can speak to a tired mom through the words of a six year old. 

Saturday, November 19, 2011

"Desolation Wilderness"

        Two weeks ago, Mark and I were sitting on the porch of the Blue Agave looking out at Lake Tahoe.  We were enjoying the best Mexican food we had experienced in a long time, time alone and  a beautiful view of the lake.  But, my heart was very weary.  "I don't think this weekend will be enough.  I can't imagine going home refueled and ready for normal life."  Having planned this weekend to celebrate our 20th wedding anniversary, these were not the words Mark wanted to hear from me.  Normal life seemed unrelenting in its demands and increasingly, when I dug deep for the energy to push through each day, I was finding no reserve.  I was coming up empty and even in a beautiful place, alone with my husband, I couldn't imagine ever recapturing the energy I needed.  My tiredness seemed terminal.


The next day, we had planned a 10 mile hike into the Desolation Wilderness.  If the name wasn't enough to inspire fear and trepidation, I was also extremely nervous about encountering bears.  We'd seen too many in the Tetons summer before last and now there were only two of us.  In the wilderness, especially the desolate wilderness, doesn't one expect to find wild things?!   So with apprehension we started out early on a hike that I soon realized was a snapshot of my life.



The trail was comprised mainly of rocks:  small, jagged rocks, huge floors of rock, rock steps, massive boulders.  The first 2 miles, we ascended 2000 feet.  Hiking was strenuous and exhausting.  But, the vistas of mountains and Lake Tahoe in the distance were breathtaking.    In the midst of exerting ourselves in the Desolation Wilderness, God showed up.  Over the six hours of hiking, these are some of the truths God spoke into my weary heart.
 The destination makes a journey's effort worthwhile. . . .

We eventually arrived at two pristine lakes:  Upper Velma and Middle Velma.  Upper Velma was my favorite.  A small lake surrounding by mammoth boulders with an active stream flowing out of it.  We sat by this stream, water skipping over a rocky bed,  with our feet dangling in its cold waters.  Several times we took our shoes and socks off to cross over, as we tried to follow the trail to Middle Velma.  The water was cold, exhilarating, restoring.  I became 10 years old again, thoroughly enchanted by such beauty and just wanting to play in the water.  The rugged terrain and difficult hike had used every ounce of my strength and left my legs shaking.  Every step I took I had to push down my fear of encountering a bear.  But because of our perseverance, we arrived at a place of exquisite beauty.  Daunting circumstances and personal exhaustion is only part of the story.  Our destination was well worth the effort.  Exhaustion gave way to exhilaration.

There is beauty on every journey. . .

The Desolation Wilderness really was desolate.  There were lots of rocks and resilient, twisted pine trees.  Ironically, we saw no wildlife apart from a very infrequent bird.  The landscape was beautiful in a very haunting  way.  But there were surprises.  We hiked through patches of snow and saw rock pools still filled with water from the spring run-off.  We saw fragile wildflowers and large rocks that were inexplicably balanced.  At one protected place on the mountain we came into a mini-forest that was suddenly lush with vegetation -- flowers, bushes and even ferns, all sustained by an underground spring.  We were surprised by beauty long before we reached our destination.

It's easy to lose the path. . . 

Because we were hiking across rocks, it was often hard to discern which way the trail went.  There were many off-shoots that were actually dead-ends.  Several times we had to stop and backtrack.  Mark was good at looking for "signs" like the rock cairns that prior hikers had left.  Without Mark, I would have easily lost my way.  Difficult trails require trusted companions to help keep you on the right path. Godly friends are not optional. . . they are essential.  Not only do they make the journey entirely more enjoyable; they speak the necessary truths to keep my feet on God's path, not detoured by my own pride, self-pity, exhaustion or desire for that elusive "easy button".

Find your pace. . .

My Dad use to say that I had two speeds:  go fast and stop.  That inborn tendency has only strengthened with age, although these days tiredness often wins over industriousness!   I am all about conquering whatever mountain is in front of me!  So when Mark and I were hiking, I was thrilled with how much faster we could go without carrying 25 lbs. backpacks.  I mentioned this to Mark, who casually commented, "The important thing in hiking is to find your pace and stick with it."  This comment was like a little pebble dropped into the pool of my soul.  I thought nothing about it at the time, but several weeks later it came back to me as I reengaged with "normal" life and my typical "go fast/stop" pace.  I realized that perhaps I needed to "find my pace" in life and stick with it.  I needed to stop living off of passion and momentary bursts of energy and really ask God to give me His pace.   Of course, this means sitting still and asking God, letting Him be my most trusted companion.  It means putting one foot in front of the other in the tedious tasks of cooking, laundry, bathing kids, putting sheets on the bed.   It means receiving moments of rest and not pushing through to get ahead of my to-do list in the elusive hope that I'll ever be "done"!

God loves me. . . .
Who am I, that God  would transport me (via Mark!) across the country, simply to speak to my heart? Who else makes a sermon out of a hike?   Who else brings beauty out of desolation and restores hope in the midst of exhaustion?    I am a daughter who is humbled to realize that God stops at nothing to communicate His love for me.   

Sunday, May 15, 2011

Out of the Corridor

      In early March a small light appeared at the end of our seemingly endless tunnel.  As we moved through March and into April, that light gradually grew brighter until on April 11th we suddenly found ourselves out of the corridor.  Thirteen months of prayer were answered in the form of a job offer from Thomasbuilt Bus in High Point, NC!  Mark accepted, we left for a week at the beach and upon our return, Mark started work on April 25th.  Three weeks into this job, the reality of employment is actually beginning to settle upon us.  Standing on the other side of those long months of unemployment, it feels like we've been given a new set of glasses that allows us to view those months very differently.  Not being chosen for various jobs brought such disappointment to us.  Now we are filled with gratitude.  We are glad we didn't get that job that would have taken us to Nashville; we are glad we didn't say yes to a job offer in Denver; we are glad for the expected job offer that didn't materialize in February.  This job, this company, this place was worth the wait.  Closed doors were just pushing us towards the right door.  Seeming rejection was protection.  Momentary disappointment was preparing us for future joy. 
     All this underscores for me the importance of vision, of seeing things rightly.  I so easily rely on my present circumstances, what I see right in front of me.  But faith is like a pair of spiritual lens that allow you to see beyond.  Faith is believing that God is still writing your story, even when it seems like you'll never move out of present difficulty and pain.  Faith is believing that there is a bigger reality, even when I live with unanswered questions and when God seems silent.  It is what the apostle Paul so eloquently speaks of when he writes, "Therefore we do not lose heart.  Though outwardly we are wasting away, yet inwardly we are being renewed day by day.  For our light and momentary troubles are achieving for us an eternal glory that far outweighs them all.  So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen.  For what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal." (2 Corinthians 4:16-18)
    Another viewpoint on the corridor:  with every hardship there is a blessing.  We experienced financial, emotional, vocational and spiritual hardship.  But, there was the blessing of having Mark involved in every day life.  There was the blessing of moving at a slower pace and having lots of quality family time.  There was the blessing of being so desperate for God, that we clearly saw His daily provision.  There was the blessing of depending on others and being deeply cared for.    
    And in the ironic way that God so often works, we now experience new challenges with the blessing of a job.  The very lessons we learned in the corridor we need in this new place.  We need that spiritual vision to look beyond big demands and tiring days.  We need to see the blessings in the midst of hard days.  We still need to live desperate for God and inviting Him into ordinary days.  Every day we need to embrace the bigger story:  that our momentary troubles are achieving for us an eternal glory that far outweighs them all
     

Thursday, May 5, 2011

An Empty Mom

Yesterday I woke up empty.  The only reason I rolled out of bed was to take my 15-year old and her friend to their early morning swim practice.  Left to myself I would have slept until noon and tried to forget the events of the day before.  But, after my downtown jaunt, I found myself sitting in the den at 6 a.m. cup of coffee and Bible in hand, wondering how to begin another day.  For many days, Mark has been out-of-town and I have been running the marathon of parenting/managing the 5 kids.  If everything goes according to schedule it is exhausting at best.   But, two days ago the wheels fell off and in the midst of leaping high buildings, my kids began to complain.  They were feeling the injustice of life and saying things like, "I didn't get to play x-box today;" "why to I have to ride in the car to pick up _____ from school?" "I wiped the kitchen after breakfast. . . why do I have to do it again?" "I'll wash the dishes when I'm ready."  These are statements of audacious ingratitude that pierce the heart of any conscientious parent.   Diismay turns into self-condemnation.  Where did I mess up? 

But then one my kids threw down the gauntlet, doing something wrong, then something worse and denying that they were wrong in any way.  Thirty minutes before neighbor ladies were arriving for bible study, I had an angry, inconsolable child, a heart swinging between anger and grief. . . and a pounding headache.  We talked, he repented, I prayed.  But, my heart did not easily rebound.

And so yesterday morning found me empty.  My shelf of parenting strategies was empty.   I had no solution, no plan, no resolve for how to make this day a better day.  I was confronted with the troubling fact that no matter how much I love my kids and work on their behalf, I cannot control the outcome of their lives.  I want them to know Jesus loves them, to care for others, to speak truth and to live honorably.  But, no amount of effort on my part or Mark's part can guarantee that outcome.  In the quietness of the morning I was confronted with how little control I had over my children's destinies. . . and that made me angry.  I can shape their behavior (kinda), but I can't affect change in their heart.  This ugly part of me can become a "mommy bully" who threatens and shames my kids into "looking good."  But, still this is not the heart change that I desire.

I dumped all this before God. " I'm a bad mom with bad kids and no hope.  What do I do?"  Into my angst, God asked me, "What do you most need?"  My response was swift:  "Hope. . . hope that You still love me, hope that You can be for my kids what I cannot be, hope that my story and my kids story is still being written."  And just as quickly His response came, "That is exactly what you kids need." 

There was the shift. . . from wanting a solution, to begging God to refuel my heart with His love. . . asking for the miracle of being soft and kind when my kids woke up, not punishing them for yesterday's sins.  I was desperate, but not despairing; reminded that I was held by a Love that doesn't let go even when I mess up.  Learning how to press forward with love in the face of disappointment and pain is a hard lesson.  It is a miracle. 

Yesterday my miracle began with a broken heart and an open book and a Savior who reached down and whispered hope.  It unfolded with bacon and pancakes waiting for my kids when they woke up.  It showed up when kindness supplanted the prior day's anger and gratitude replaced grumbling.  The day I dreaded became a day of surprise and beauty.  I enjoyed my kids, they enjoyed one another and hope was rebirthed.
"And hope does not disappoint us, because God has poured out His love into our hearts by the Holy Spirit, whom He has given us."  Romans 5:5

Wednesday, April 6, 2011

Waiting. . .

It is a sure thing that if you pray for greater patience, God will provide you with many opportunities in which to practice patience.  Patience is not like placing an order in the drive-through lane of a fast food restaurant.  It is acquired oh, so slowly. . . and painfully.  Being married to a southerner man gives me lots of opportunities for patience.  So does having 5 kids.  And shopping at Walmart.  Last weekend I had to make a quick return  at Walmart.  As luck would have it,  there was no line at the customer service desk.  But, in order to get my returned item "ticketed" by the greeter, I had to wait behind a woman who had 20 individual clothing items, each of which needed a ticket.    This took some time after which I  followed her to the customer service desk and waited some m ore, while her items were recounted and she went out to her car to get her i.d.! How does one experience patience in the midst of waiting?   I took deep breaths.  I tried to make a mental list of what else I needed to purchase at Walmart.  I made menus for the week.  I even tried to put myself in the woman's shoes.  But, all strategies did little to impart a feeling of patience.  They gave me a facade of patience, but inside I was fuming! 

Much more significant than waiting in a line at Walmart, is continuing to wait for Mark to secure a job.  It has been a little over a year since he lost his job.  When it happened I don't think we ever believed that a year later he would still be looking and we would still be waiting for another job.  There are so many ways that I try to avoid waiting.  I don't have to stand in line at Walmart.  If faced with a traffic jam, I can detour.  If struggling with a home situation, I can blame others.  But a job.  You can't pretend not to want a job or that you don't need a job.  You can be avoidant for awhile, but you always come back to waiting for a job. 

In early March we received some wonderful news.  A company Mark had previously interviewed with wanted him.  But, even in this good news there has been waiting.  Many good things are happening, but still we waiting for a written offer.  Mark is waiting to pull out his business suits, get in his car and actually go to an office that's not in his bedroom.  We feel pretty confident he will get a written offer.  But, it's like seeing your destination from the air and not being cleared for landing.  We continue to circle and wait.

But, again the question. . . how is patience birthed from waiting?  It's hard to see the causal link.  "If you wait, then you will be patient."  That is not my experience.   I want more than "the look" of patience.  I want that settledness in my soul, that  peace that is not shaken by long lines, slow people or delayed jobs.  I want to believe that when God has me wait, in big or small ways, that it is His very best for me.  If I believed that waiting was a gift, how  much more gladly would I accept it and stand still in it?   Perhaps I wouldn't focus so much on just "getting through" the wait, as I would just savoring the wait.    Maybe the best gifts of all are to be found in the waiting rather than the outcome.  And maybe patience isn't goal, but the byproduct. 

Friday, April 1, 2011

Finish Lines

Yesterday I passed a finish line.  For twenty-four weeks during the school year, I tutor in a home school program called Classical Conversations.  Three of my kids attend classes, while I teach in the morning and afternoon.  It's not nearly the big deal that teaching 5 classes a day in a public high school was once-upon-a-time.  But, it does require a significant amount of time in preparation and time is a precious commodity for this momma of five!  So, yesterday we finished; and as after any race, I feel tired, exhilarated, accomplished and thankful!  Quite honestly, I love finish lines.  I love checking off the box and knowing that I have seen something through from beginning to end.  But, as I grow older finish lines seem to be more elusive.  Probably the most important undertakings in my life have no finish line. . . although I once believed they did.  You never finish raising kids or having a great marriage.  You never pass that line after which no more effort or heart is required from you.  You never get to land in a place with your kids and husband where you can say, "I'm done and I did a good job."  In fact, lots of people through in the towel precisely because there doesn't seem to be a finish line.  There is no end in sight to all the struggles and investment; so they bring a premature end themselves.  That is the last thing I want to do.  But speaking honestly, relationships take much  more energy, time and heart than I have to offer.  So even as I cross one finish line this week, I am begging God for energy to run these other races well.  And this week I am camping out in a few verses in Romans:  "For everything that was written in the past was written to teach us, so that through endurance and the encouragement of the Scriptures we might have hope.  May the God who gives endurance and encouragement give you a spirit of unity among yourselves as you follow Christ Jesus. . ."  (Romans 15: 4,5)  Endurance and encouragement is exactly what I need in these days of flagging energy and discouragement.  And evidently, God is an unending reservoir of these things.  He gives through the scriptures, but He gives in many other creative ways.  Like yesterday when He encouraged me through wonderful parents, teachers and colleagues.  My heart is full.  I am grateful.  Other races don't end, but God stands ready and willing to pour endurance and encouragement into my heart each day.

Monday, February 21, 2011

Back In the Corridor

One thing I have learned about myself through teaching is that I am a visual learner.  I'm not very artistic, but word pictures seem to better express my feelings than anything else!  So this picture of  our present circumstances being a corridor keeps playing through my mind.  This weekend I've been thinking that there is more than one way to try to escape the corridor.  I see many doors along this hallway.  The doors are closed, but I can hear voices on the other side of each one.  The doors open to rooms that don't lead anywhere, but offer a welcome diversion.  Some are like a temporary rest stop that give me momentary relief.  Behind these doors, I am encouraged by being with friends, being in church, going to the beach. . . even going to the gym!  Each of these rooms let me catch my breath and provide a resurgence of energy that propels me back into the corridor.  But other doors lead to rooms that are much more seductive.  They pull me in and make me want to stay.  These are doors that open to binge eating, alcohol, shopping, t.v., self-pity, bitterness, jealousy . . places that relieve the pain, but paralyze my ability to return to the corridor and keep moving forward.  Escapism can be oh so dangerous. 
But better than leaving the corridor is having people join me in this dark mess.  These people don't come with flashlights and road maps, but their simple presence brings comfort.  There is a certain awkwardness to being found in this place.  It is embarrassing to be seen.  But, push past those initial feelings and their intrusion is welcomed.  For me, these friends bring the calm and assurance of God into this dark place.  They make this corridor less frightening and drown out the whispers of self-condemnation and shame.  They bring fresh reminders that one day this corridor will bring us into a place of light and joy and celebration.

Thursday, February 17, 2011

Just An Ordinary Day

My strategy this week is to live in the moment.  This is good advice for any time, but when life bears down with uncertainty and fear, it seems like that there is really no other alternative. . . other than staying in bed and never leaving my room, which doesn't work well with 5 kids!!  So this morning I woke up with a desire to see the good in an ordinary day.  Sometimes I take ordinary for granted.  I don't have any family members dying, we aren't facing bankruptcy, we aren't fighting chronic illness and we haven't had any major appliances break recently.  So here is my ordinary day and the little things I was blessed to experience. . .

I was able to work out for an hour at the Y -- a privilege, because last month, just as our membership was being cancelled, some unnamed saint paid for us to have 3 more months!  Suddenly, my morning exercise has become more of a "get to" rather than a "have to."  I got to take my oldest daughter out for coffee before dropping her at school.  It is no small thing to have a teenage daughter who still seems to like doing things with me and who TALKS to me.  I am grateful!  I came home to Caleb and Joshua sitting at the table, already doing school!!  I guess that's more on the miraculous scale, than ordinary.  Again, I'm grateful!  Graciela, age 5, is learning to read and that is always such a thrill to experience when you are homeschooling.  Caleb had coupons to Chick Fila, so we had a rare lunch out!  Saw a friend and her two boys, recently adopted from Uganda.  It is nothing short of miraculous when God takes children from one part of the world and plants them in a family halfway around the globe!  After lunch, went grocery shopping with 3 kids AND coupons. . . .typically a set up for insanity and stress.  Made it through without yelling!!  Came home, read some of Exodus with the boys and was very encouraged that a great man like Moses struggled mightily with fear!  Opened the mail and received a Visa card for $100 from a dear, generous friend. . . which made me cry and realize again how much I struggle to receive grace!  Picked up Evan from high school.  Came home and took the dog for a walk with Graciela riding her bike.  Ended up hanging out in a neighbor's backyard with a host of kids.  I love our neighborhood!!  Friends at the front door still seems like such a new and novel thing.  I don't take it for granted.  Tonight, I'm thankful for taco salads, a wonderful husband, spring coming. . . and American Idol on t.v. again!!

Monday, February 14, 2011

Moving In the Dark

Sometimes there are dark corridors in life, where you know you have to keep moving forward, but you seem no closer to the end of the hallway than when you began.  You start off confidently moving in what you believe to be the right direction.  You talk to people who have moved down similar corridors.  You learn from their mistakes and listen to their wisdom.  You move carefully, but intentionally.  You know the way is long and dark, but you also know that at some point you will emerge on the other side.  You believe it will be worthwhile. 

But, no one can tell you how long or dark your corridor.  No one can possibly describe the isolation that begins to play tricks on your mind.  No one tells you that at points you just want to stop moving, lean up against the wall and go to sleep. . . or at least forget just temporarily where you are.  After awhile, it is easy to believe that your corridor is not leading to a better place. . . that it is a dead end and your efforts to move forward are futile.  In the prolonged journey, it is easy to succumb to lies and defeat and believe that the darkness of the corridor is your reality.

This is the place where faith is lost or faith is grown.  Will I believe what I see, feel and hear?  Or will I believe there is more beyond the corridor?   I look at the darkness of this unending hallway and my only thought is  "when will this end?"  I think that the happy ending comes when we turn the corner and emerge on the other side.  I look for relief from the pain and the return of personal control.  And I want God to cooperate with my desires.  I want Him to answer me in a way that makes sense and makes my life easier. 

But, God seems to be pretty independent.  He could end this journey; but, He doesn't.  He could have brought a job long before now; but He hasn't.  He could answer my questions; but He isn't.     Instead, He just keeps showing up in the corridor.  I think I'm alone, but I'm not.  I think He doesn't care; but He does.  In the midst of darkness and uncertainty, He encourages me to get up and keep  moving.  He reminds me that there is more to life than what I can see.  He brings daily gifts, not as big as a job, but reminders that He's taking care of me.    "Therefore we do not lose heart.  Though outwardly we are wasting away, yet inwardly we are being renewed day by day.  For our light and momentary troubles are achieving for us an eternal glory that far outweighs them all.  So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen.  For what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal." Paul to his Corinthian friends

So we keep walking in the dark, not seeing the end in sight, but knowing that this walk is not futile.  We believe that  the God we cannot see is  with us every step.  When we want to sink down and give up, we believe He will give us what we need to keep going.  We believe God is faithful even in the dark.   

Saturday, January 15, 2011

Life with a view

Every summer for the past 8 years, I have taken a personal retreat.  I love my husband and 5 kids, but the opportunity to escape and spend 24 hours alone has always been a wonderful gift for my weary soul.  I always go to the mountains and each retreat starts the same way.  I access the Blue Ridge Parkway and drive south to the Moses Cone House, which sits perched at the top of a mountain.  This beautiful estate, built by textile entrepreneur Moses Cone nearly 100 years ago, is now run by the park service and offers miles of beautiful hiking trails.  Often I will hike, but always I begin by simply sitting on top of the mountain, taking in the breathtaking vista that stretches beneath it.  It is here that my soul starts to settle and the weariness begins to fall away.  It is here that my perspective is renewed and I start to see my life from a larger view.  This is where God inevitably begins to refresh me and breath fresh life into my heart.

I'm not very different from most women who spend their days pouring into other people and managing lots of details.  As grateful as I am for my life, I lose sight of why I do what I do.  More significantly, I forget who I am and who I serve and for what purpose God has made me.  I have to step out of my normal life in order to  remember and have my vision for purposeful living renewed.  Waking up early in the morning, sitting with my coffee and my Lord, does this for me.  Going on a personal retreat alone, does this for me.  Sometimes a good book or sermon or a heart conversation with a friend will do this for me.

The name of this blog, Mount Lookout, reflects my desperate need for perspective.  I am asking God every day to give me His vision for my life.  I am asking Him to give me the eyes to see Him at work in the every day, mundane tasks, as well as the huge and disruptive events.  I am asking God to help me remember timeless truths:  God loves me; I belong to Him; He knows me better than I know myself; my life serves a purpose that He has determined; God can be trusted at every turn; life is hard, but God is good. 

Every so often I read a book that takes me to the mountaintop.  One of these books is A Praying Life by Paul Miller. I love this passage:

If God is sovereign, then he is in control of all the details of my life.  If he is loving, then he is going to be shaping the details of my life for my good.  If he is all-wise, then he's not going to do everything I want because I don't know what I need.  If he is patient, then he is going to take time to do all this.  When we put all these things together -- God's sovereignty, love, wisdom, and patience -- we have a divine story. . . we are actors in his drama, listening for our lines, quieting our hearts so we can hear the voice of the Playwright." p. 22 

If life is a journey, there are milestones along the way and scenic turnouts.  This blog is meant to chronicle those moments of meaning and beauty, where God gives renews perspective and purpose.