I Can't Blog From My Phone and Other Excuses

God has this funny way of calling bluffs.

Sitting alone in the woods on a gorgeous spring-like January morning, I was wrestling and talking some things out with the Lord.  This "quiet time" during our ladies' retreat was the thing I needed the most, but also the thing that I've been avoiding the most in my daily life.  The constant motion around here eventually became a good excuse to stop being still enough to really listen. 

Among other things, my extended blogging hiatus was really on my heart. I was sensing that He was calling me to start writing again.  I felt a little like Moses telling God all the reasons why I couldn't do that - including the fact that our laptop had crashed and, as we do almost everything on our phones anyway, replacing it just had not made sense.  And surely the Lord knows that trying to blog from a phone is insanity defined. As my excuses kept rolling out (and sounding increasingly ridiculous) I finally just flat out told God, 

"Okay, fine. If you want me to write, then I really do need a computer again.  So. If a free computer comes my way then I will take that as it's time to start writing again."

Because somewhere along the way, the truth is, I lost the courage to write.  And when our laptop displayed the blue screen of death, it was a convenient excuse to let writing fade away.

Besides, life is busy. I spend my days walking in circles trying to remember why I'm holding a stuffed lamb in one hand, scrubbing sidewalk chalk off the rug with the other and reminding a child to please stop barking so loudly when I think my original goal was to make dinner.  So putting together regular, coherent thoughts?  Right.

Also, it's a very different online culture now than when I first started blogging 10 (!) years ago.  We live in a culture of outrage, where one misinterpreted post goes viral and suddenly the newest public enemy number one is wondering what just happened.

For somebody who rrreeeeeally doesn't like conflict, this is a daunting prospect.

What if somebody doesn't like what I say?  What if I accidentally offend someone?

And also there's the whole "Do my words really matter?  Really?  There are like a bazillion blogs out there and if there's nothing new under the sun, what does my little blog really add?" thing.

I know.  Welcome to my head.

Well, you know what?  All that mess swirling around and around in my mind? That is playing to my fears and letting the enemy get a foothold.  And who wants to live like that?

Not. Me.

Not anymore.

(At least not this morning.  It's a daily battle)

So I guess it was a "putting out the fleece" moment for me.  Sure, we could theoretically buy a computer and I could start blogging again.  But I wanted to know that God was in it.  That this was something He was really speaking to me about.  Not as a test of Him - I know He can create a computer out of an ant if He wants to, for goodness sake.  But as a test of my hearing Him - was I really hearing Him nudge me that strongly toward writing again?

Fast forward a couple of weeks from that January morning declaration in woodsy solitude (which I told nobody about, by the way) and my precious dad is over at our house helping me out with something one morning.  When out of the blue he says,

"You know, I have a laptop that I'm not using anymore.
You're welcome to have it, if you want it."

I'm pretty sure God was getting a good kick out of this moment.  Suddenly, I didn't have an excuse anymore.  God heard my mustard-seed, "here's my fleece", like-a-computer-is-just-going-to-show-up-but-God-can-do-anything, oh-but-what-if-he-does prayer and took me up on it.

Grateful?  Absolutely

Fearful?  Totally.

Because now I had to keep my end of the bargain.  Don't get me wrong - writing is something I love.  I really do.  It's putting it out there for other people to read that's the problem lately.

But apparently God is doing something in me through this.

He is ruler over lame excuses, over fear and over what "makes sense".

So (deep breath and put down the stuffed lamb and scrubbing cloth)....

Here I go.

A Little Sick Day (Month) Entertainment

We have been in the throes of a nasty stomach bug around here.  What makes it particularly diabolical is that the symptoms are intermittent for 7-10 days . . .which means it totally messes with your mind:  "Yay, I think we're over it! [barf] Nevermind."

If that messed-with mind belongs to a mom of say, five children, and if that mom has had to clean up various bodily fluids for the past EIGHTEEN days as this evil moves slowly and methodically through. each. child. one. by. one.....Well.  That mom might need a little comic relief.

So I present:

Signs the Stomach Bug Has Been In Your House Too Long:

1.  The second hand on the clock has made one full revolution.  One minute.  One minute is already far too long.

2.  The sheer horror that overtakes you at any and every cough or clearing of the throat.  Because for EIGHTEEN days, that sound has triggered an automatic gathering of paper towels, trash bags, cleaner and Lysol.  I sincerely hate the smell of Lysol.

3.  Even the washing machine groans when it hears that sound.  (Our poor machine actually gave up one day and stopped working.  I may or may not have prayed over that thing like it was in need of a dire healing.  Because it was.  And the Lord took pity on me 'She's praying over the washing machine, bless it . . .' and indeed healed the cleaner of all things even the dog won't touch.  Amen.)

4.  Cashiers at Target start to wonder if you are selling Pedialyte on the black market.

5.  Venturing outside and suddenly understanding what Dracula must have felt like [My eyes!  What is that horrid ball of fire that is trying to set my eyes ablaze?!  The sun.  That would be the sun...]

6.  Your children start to forget what food that isn't white tastes like.

7.  Your husband starts to forget what food that isn't from a can or frozen tastes like.  [And you secretly hope it stays that way.  I also sincerely hate cooking, although I do love to bake.  Baking=chocolate;  Cooking=vegetables.  Need I explain further?]

8.  When the sick children are napping, you feel like you are on vacation.  Like in Hawaii.  But not.

9.  You come up with random lists just to entertain yourself with something besides cartoons and princess music.

I feel like there should be a #10 there, but my list-making skills are expiring.  The type A in me says "You have to have a #10!"  The tired mom in me says "Shut up type A"  The responsible mom in me says, "Don't say shut up! The children might hear you!"  The .  . .ah-ha . . .

10.  You start having imaginary conversations with different parts of your personality.

Well, in all sincerity, I know this just can't last forever (although it feels like it).  Soon enough, life will be back to normal crazy instead of sick crazy.

In the meantime, if anyone needs Pedialyte, you know where to find me....

Set Free

For most of my life, I let two things dictate every decision, every action:

1. Rules.
2. The offspring of Rules: Fear.

I wanted to keep the rules, I liked the rules.  Rules were safe - not to be questioned, not to be discussed, definitely not to be broken.  Why?  Well, that was scary (see above-mentioned offspring) - people might not like me if I didn't keep the rules.  I might have to endure conflict and that would break my biggest self-imposed rule: Don't create conflict.  Don't have an opinion, don't speak in class or any group (someone might disagree), in fact, just try not to speak much at all.  That's pretty safe.  I liked safe.

Any guesses on how this was working out for me?

I may have done a super job avoiding conflict, but I also missed out on a lot of living for fear I would do something wrong.  Well, of course I would have done something wrong!  I believe that's called being human.  But in my mind "wrong" would be disastrous.  So I stayed in my safe world, with my safe rules.

Going to church was safe.  Worshiping was not.

Reading the Bible was safe.  Studying and sharing it was not.

Working to earn God's favor was safe. Believing His unfailing love was not.

Saying the "right" thing was safe.  Saying the truth was not.

Security in others' opinions?  Safe.  Security in Christ alone?  Not.

I considered myself a Christian - and I believed as much as I knew how to believe.  But I was still in bondage to rules and fear.  I was swimming in a very small pond, not aware I was made for the open sea.

Then God called me out.

Seven years ago, with my then 9-month-old in the church nursery, I walked in to a Bible study for mothers thinking it was quite the "godly mommy" thing to do (safe!) not knowing the Lord would use it to springboard me into a faith explosion and spiritual growth off the charts (not safe! not safe! warning! warning!).

One particular morning, the topic touched on grace, salvation and God's great love for us.  I forget the exact wording, but the gist was that Jesus died not only to save us from hell at death, but to save us every single day from our own sinfulness.  That we did not have to be enslaved to ourselves - our shortcomings, our sin, our habits, our struggles - while we walked this earth.  Jesus died to extend us grace every single day, not just as we enter eternity.  

WHAT?

How come I never knew about THAT grace??  I'm sure it was told to me, but whether I didn't understand or I still chose my own rules I don't know.  What I did know is that this grace was news to me!  Grace extended to me every day?  Up to that point my belief system went like this:  Follow the rules, get baptized so you don't go to hell, keep following the rules so God doesn't get too mad at you, say I'm Sorry to God a lot and try to earn back His favor, then life is over and you get to go to Heaven because you followed the rules.  The end.

I know.  Delightful.

But this grace? This grace changed my entire way of thinking, of praying, of reading the Word.  I felt like I was hearing God, not just talking at Him.  Joy, gratefulness, worship.  I actually felt like a new creation.  The old was gone, the new had come!

That was the beginning of great spiritual growth, but also of great spiritual trial.  That is not coincidental.  The following years brought a devastating miscarriage that made me question God and my faith like nothing before, it brought repeated struggles with depression and anxiety that drove me to my knees and to my God.  It brought loneliness as we moved away from family and comfort (safety!) and to where the Lord was leading us (not safe!).  Loneliness that made me cling to Jesus because, with a toddler and an infant at the time, a husband at work and no real friends in a new place, He was often all I had.  It brought other trials, but there were also many, many times of respite, rejoicing and a real knowledge of living in community and seeing the Body of Christ in action.  Peaks and valleys.  Growth and rest.

But as for the trials, this I know:  Through that Bible study, He called me out of safety and to true knowledge of Him and His grace before He allowed me to walk those roads.  He packed my bags before He sent me on the trip.  His grace was, and is, truly sufficient for me.

Today, He reminded me that I was starting to let fear creep back in to my heart.  Desire for stability and familiarity was quickly becoming an excuse to once again retreat to safety and fear-based decisions.  I am so thankful that in His great love and mercy, He cares enough about us to not let us settle for mediocrity.  (I also have a feeling this will not be the last time He has to remind me.)

Ah, there He goes again with that daily grace of His, refusing to let me be enslaved to my habits and tendencies today and any other day to come.

Amazing Grace.

Indeed.

I'm Right Here

"I know you can't see me, baby, but I'm right here.  Mama's right here, honey."

As soon as the words left my lips that day, I knew there was more to the moment.  More than my attempt to comfort a wailing, sick and uncomfortable baby while driving to the pediatrician's office.  Those words were meant for me as well.

That day as I drove, my heart was breaking and tears were brimming. I had never heard my sweet 10 month old scream like this, she always calms down and goes to sleep in the car.  Always. But not this time. Every mile I drove seemed to bring a renewed intensity to her cries. (Later we would learn a nasty ear infection was the culprit.)  Logically, I knew she was right where she needed to be - safely buckled in her rear-facing car seat so we could get to the doctor. But since she was facing backwards, of course she couldn't see me.  She was hurting and desperately crying out for her mama and everything in me wanted to stop the hurt.

I mentally ran through my options.  It would have been ridiculous (not to mention illegal) to take her out and drive the rest of the way with her on my lap.  She would have been able to see me, to feel me, and it may have offered temporary relief, but would have put her in great danger.  Forbid that something would happen, but nobody ever plans a car accident.  Her little body would have no protection without her car seat. Not an option.  I could have stopped and held her, but I knew the screams would start again as soon as I put her back in her seat.  What she really needed was to get to the doctor without delay. So as her mother who loves her beyond words, I had to let her experience momentary discomfort in order to get her what she really needed.  And it was hard.  So hard.

My only option, all I could really do, was speak to her - to remind her I was close by even if she couldn't see me.

"I know you can't see me, but I'm right here . . ."

My husband pointed out the other day that as a family we have been through almost every major change possible over the past year: job changes, school changes, the birth of not just one but two precious babies, and a major move.  Any one of those things would be enough to deal with, but all of them in such a short amount of time has proven extremely challenging to every part of me - spiritual, emotional and physical.

For various reasons, the past two months in particular has just about put me over the top.  Or down in the depths.  Whatever.  Nothing feels settled, every area of life feels upended and there is no margin.  There are mornings I wake up and tell God, "Nope, sorry.  You got the wrong girl because I just can't do today."  And of course I still get up, because I'm a grown-up and also because leaving five children to fend for themselves just really isn't such a great idea.

But the whole day often feels like a battle and I find myself grasping for spiritual straws - trying to read a verse here, throwing out prayers that hit the ceiling there - and I ask God, "Where are you? I know you're here.  I know that logically.  But I can't feel you.  I can't see you. Are you sure you're here??"

" . . .I'm right here . . ."

That day as I drove, as the feeble attempt to calm my screaming baby escaped my lips, I realized the Lord was just as much comforting another one of children - the one that was driving, the one whose heart is screaming for her Father every day, who desperately needs to see Him.  And He reminded me that just as I was doing the best for my child right then, so is He doing the same for me.  Always.

Even when I can't see Him.

Even when I can't feel Him.

He's still driving me toward what I really need, even if it means discomfort.  And while that doesn't completely dry my tears, and I still feel in the midst of daily battle, it feels good to at least  hear His voice.

To be reminded He's right here.

Hello Again

Well, then.

{Insert standard "wow-it's-been-forever-since-I've-posted" comment here}

(Really though - two years??)

(Sheesh.)

Instead of a forever long catch-up post, let's see how I can best summarize the past two years . . .

Moving.  Not moving.  Moving maybe.  Definitely moving. U-Haul stinks.
Pregnant. What?! TWINS. What what??!!
Maybe homeschool.  Not homeschool.  Not school.  Awesome friend homeschools for me (see TWINS).
Happy to be in Texas again.  Desperately missing friends in Georgia.
Definitely homeschool.  All five children at home.  All.  The.  Time.
Insanity.  Someone MUST go to school. NOW.  Regain sanity.  At least for another day.
The End.

Wow.  Reading over that list makes me feel somewhat justified at the state of my brain these days.  I think it would be useful to have a wallet-size copy of my college diploma just so I could pull it out every so often and exclaim, "See!  I really used to be smart!"

This is not an exaggeration. The other day I went to retrieve our dinner from the oven (It was the fancy frozen pizza.  And by fancy, I mean Costco.)  Oven mitt in place, I opened the door and proceeded to pull out the molten hot rack.

With my bare hand.

Like, the one without the oven mitt.  Apparently, that's an important step I missed.  I'm sure I didn't need those layers of skin anyway.

Young people, appreciate those brain cells.

So, hopefully it won't be another two years until the next post.  Until then, I leave you with this little gem:

I had found these great Downton Abbey valentines and had a little too much fun hiding them in various spots for hubs to find that day.  Lady Mary hiding on the bag of coffee declaring "I'm to die for", Mrs. Patmore asking, "Wanna spoon?" . . .so much fun.  In fact, Mr. Bates continued to show up in interesting places for several days after Valentine's - it became a game of who could hide him in the best spot, because - really - what says love like Mr. Bates when you open the toilet lid??

I thought I had THE best place by far.  Hubs was headed out of town for a couple of days and I couldn't wait for him to discover Mr. Bates had traveled in his carry-on all the way to South Carolina.  Wife for the win!

But then a last-minute addition of toothpaste was necessary and my surprise was discovered before the bag even left the house.  Boo.  I was totally let down.

Until hubs observed that the last thing he needed was for TSA to open his bag and see this:

Because what would say "hilarious" like your husband being frisked down at the airport over a cryptic note declaring his innocence??  We all know what a great sense of humor those TSA agents have, after all!

Wife fail.

Well, I was ever so grateful he discovered his surprise before TSA did, even if it spoiled my fun.  Oh, but Mr. Bates is still alive and well in our home waiting to be discovered.  If you're ever here, just act normal if you happen to see him hanging around.  I can't have my surprise spoiled again!

And at this point I realize two things:
-I might be a tad competitive
-I might be having a bit too much fun with printouts of fictional characters

{whips out wallet-size diploma} See, I really used to be smart . . .

And....Done.

Children never cease to amaze me with their insight. They have this uncanny knack to beautifully untangle truths that we adults have complicated, over-analyzed and picked apart.

Now, call me biased, but I happen to think our oldest daughter is extraordinary at this. She is a very deep thinker and possesses an understanding way beyond her years. And, although I'm accustomed to this, she still knocks me off my feet every now and then.

This happened just a few nights ago. Part of our bedtime routine is reading out of a fabulous little devotional book for girls. It always starts with a passage of Scripture and then follows with some kind of application.

Our bedtime devotional reading that particular evening was centered around how God has gifted each of us with certain abilities to build up other believers and also bring glory to God. After a brief chat about what gifts God had given her, my daughter relayed this conclusion to me...

"Mom, you know how when you get someone a birthday gift and then they open it and love it and play with it a lot? And that makes you so happy to see that they like it and play with it a lot, a lot? Well, I think that's kind of like God and the gifts He gives to us and it makes Him happy when we use them a lot, a lot."

Speechless.

After I recovered, all I could finally say was, "That is simply the best explanation of that I have ever heard."

And then our devotional was done. Because, really. What else could I add to that??

What a beautiful picture of what it really means to bring God glory. To bring Him complete joy as He watches us enjoy, cultivate and use our gifts as He intended.

I don't know about you, but the thought of bringing the Lord joy makes me want to use my gifts. And, like my daughter's analogy, play with them a lot. A lot, a lot. :-)

Seeing a More Complete Picture

It seems this year I've been asking a lot of "Why" questions of God. I love Him, I love His Word and my brain understands that He is sovereign, unfailing and always right and true. But then things happen - either to our family, a loved one, or even to a complete stranger on the news - that make me stop and ask, "Really, God? Why did You allow that to happen? And why like that? I don't understand, Lord..."

I admit my shield of faith has taken some dangerously large hits as I've been trying to reconcile the idea of our free will with God's sovereignty. As in: He can stop something awful from happening, but He doesn't always choose to. And while I also know that my lack of understanding does not negate the perfection of God's will and plan for our lives, sometimes it's just plain hard living in a fallen world's imperfection.

However, a friend's recent Facebook status opened my eyes to another side of this story: the times when we are not left asking "Why?", when God does NOT allow tragedy to occur. The times when His plan includes merciful rescue or protection. My friend was visiting the home of a friend that happened to have a pool. Read this in awe: (my friend's daughter, Jenna, is about 2 years old)...

I am very grateful that the Lord was watching over Jenna today. She snuck outside, stripped down naked and jumped in the pool. She does not swim yet. A wonderfully protective black lab named Olivia pulled her out by her hair. Needless to say, she was pretty scared and has no desire to go outside or in the pool now! Thank you Lord for keeping my baby safe!

After reading this with goosebumps and tears, realizing how very close my friend's world had come to complete tragedy, I suddenly felt very foolish before the Lord. As I was praising and thanking Him for saving sweet little Jenna, it occurred to me that I don't thank and praise Him enough for His mercies - known or unknown. I have become so wrapped up with why He didn't act in some situations that I totally missed all the times that He DID. I have been so myopic that I've ignored the bigger of picture of WHO God is rather than what His hand is or is not doing.

I asked my friend's permission to post her story for two reasons:

1) God deserves the highest and utmost praise just because of who He is, but it is right and good to praise and thank Him for saving Jenna! More people that read the story = more praise and glory to God!!! As a mother, especially of a little girl the same age, I literally cannot stop thanking God for allowing the story to end as it did. The alternative is unthinkable. Thank you, Lord!! Thank you, thank you, thank you!!!

2) It really boosted my faith to realize all the good that God is working - in my life, in others' lives and in this world - and I'm sure I don't even know a fraction of it. Just waking up in the morning and taking a breath is something to thank Him for! Maybe someone else out there needed a faith-boost as well, to see beyond the things that make us cry out "Why?" and know that things are happening all day long - whether we're aware of them or not - that require our praise and thanksgiving with just as much passion.

Lord, forgive my near-sightedness! Help me to have eyes that see and ears that hear all the ways you work in and around us!

(By the way, I love how God used a sweet doggie to accomplish His purpose! I'm pretty sure Olivia the Super Black Lab deserves all the belly rubs and doggie treats her little heart desires!!!)