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
Thursday, May 5, 2011
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.
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.
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!!
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.
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.
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.
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