Have you ever had one of those days where you have a million thoughts and ideas swimming around in your brain and you know you need to write them down somehow-- journal, blog, something-- but just thinking about writing it writing it is exhausting? So here's a list instead:
*My bathtub rocks.
*The yard needs to be mowed.
*Don told me, "Thank you for cleaning the kitchen. You know that feeling you get when I mow the lawn? I get that same feeling when you clean the kitchen."
*The fact that this came right after the note that the yard needs to be mowed is completely unrelated... :)
*I'm currently living in denial that school starts back soon
*I'm excited about school starting back soon
(oooh-- I am such an enigma... :))
*New light fixture from JD's stash of cool stuff. OH-- good idea for the name of the shop I wish he'd open: JD's Stash of Cool Stuff.
*JD and Kristen are also responsible for the bath tub
*Fantastic-- FANTASTIC-- Sunday school class
*Butt-kicking Sunday school class
*Such fun at Jason and Tara's today. Gorgeous baby. Smiled the whole time. Perfect pink christening gown. Jason's post-baptism ribs were out of this world. The conversation was a blast.
*New friends! So much fun!
*Approaching storm today was brilliant. I love the south.
*Tinelle and Tara are lovely sisters. They've survived so much-- but more than survived. They are thriving women.
*I get nervous telling pregnant women what happened with Ben except when they're believers. I don't want to frighten them or freak them out. I had a conversation with the loveliest pregnant woman today (see "new friends" above :)), and it blessed me so much to see the peace on her face when I shared briefly about Ben after she asked.
*My husband says that I "sang good" in worship this morning
*He also says that we have temporarily cured the cat from sitting on the chair in the den
*He would also like you to know that most of his toenails are clean and also wants to know if I'm really typing that.
:)
Be blessed tonight. God is good.
Sunday, July 18, 2010
Wednesday, July 14, 2010
No one expects the Spanish Inquisition
The Two Foundations
24"Therefore everyone who hears these words of Mine and acts on them, may be compared to a wise man who built his house on the rock.
25"And the rain fell, and the floods came, and the winds blew and slammed against that house; and yet it did not fall, for it had been founded on the rock.
26"Everyone who hears these words of Mine and does not act on them, will be like a foolish man who built his house on the sand.
27"The rain fell, and the floods came, and the winds blew and slammed against that house; and it fell--and great was its fall."
28When Jesus had finished these words, the crowds were amazed at His teaching;
29 for He was teaching them as one having authority, and not as their scribes.
Matthew 7: 24-29
First things first-- I am totally breaking a serious rule in Bible study-- there is SO MUCH to this passage, and if you have a passage that starts with "therefore"-- well, you know you have to search to understand what it's "there for" :). So I had the entire chapter here and realized that I wanted to talk about every bit of it, but I was too all over the place. The real thing is this foundation thing that I keep coming back to in my heart.
My dear friend Jonathan and I were talking on Saturday afternoon (he's a seminary student at Duke and he's interning at a great big church in Atlanta this summer and I could not be more proud of him-- I joked with his mother when D and I first got married that once I was pregnant, I wanted her to spit in my drink so I could have a son just like her sons-- I have a handful of women whose sons are so amazing, I have made the same joke with them...they THINK it's a joke... :)).
Anyway, Jonathan was telling me about the sermon he was going to give the next morning at church and he reminded me of the story of the wise man who builds his house on the rock, which is one that has come to mind for me again and again in the last year.
I remember being a little girl in children's church at Rockdale Baptist Church. Mr. Ronnie and Miss Janet and the other teachers would teach us little Bible songs and I still know those songs, and the Word is written right across my heart thanks to some of those little verses (all of you kindergarten and preschool teachers, don't give up! Your work is so valuable and huge! You never know what kinds of eternal seeds you are planting!!).
The wise man built his house upon the rock
The wise man built his house upon the rock
The wise man built his house upon the rock
And the rain came tumbling down
Oh, the rain came down
And the floods came up
The rain came down
And the floods came up
The rain came down
And the floods came up
And the wise man's house stood firm.
The foolish man built his house upon the sand
The foolish man built his house upon the sand
The foolish man built his house upon the sand
And the rain came tumbling down
Oh, the rain came down
And the floods came up
The rain came down
And the floods came up
The rain came down
And the floods came up
And the foolish man's house went "splat!"
So, build your house on the Lord Jesus Christ
Build your house on the Lord Jesus Christ... (etc.)
I remember thinking about the images those verses paint-- I couldn't imagine building a house on Stone Mountain or on the big rock that we had out on the play ground at Pine Street. How would they get it to stay and keep from sliding off? At the same time, building in the sandbox was pretty messy and everyone knows that the sandbox is no place to be if it's raining.
Such a literal child, from the beginning.
Anyway, this story is gigantically important to us as believers.
The thing about trials is that we don't expect them most of the time ("no one expects the Spanish Inquisition!"). In the parable, Jesus had just been warning his listeners to watch out for teachers who would mislead them and He was advising them to consider the fruit that they bear. The whole warning is fairly intense.
But the thing that stood out for me last year was the fact that we had no idea that a storm was coming. That's the thing about storms (or the Spanish Inquisition...)-- we know to be prepared for them, to mend our leaking roofs or to have candles and extra batteries and a weather radio on hand, but really, you don't have time to replace the entire roof when you hear on the news that a weather event is slated for your area that afternoon.
We didn't know that we needed to be prepared for our worst nightmare last year. We got pregnant, rejoiced over our great blessing, and went about the business of registering at baby stores, designing a nursery, poring over baby name books and sending emails back and forth with funny ideas, giving our family fun "worksheets" at Thanksgiving dinner, asking them for suggestions-- family names, family stories connected to those names, etc. We were prepared for a sunny spring. We were looking forward to happy sleepless nights and figuring out how to breastfeed.
We didn't expect a freaking hurricane.
But here's the thing that was so beautiful: our house was built on the Rock.
And the rain fell, and the floods came, and the winds blew and slammed against that house; and yet it did not fall, for it had been founded on the rock.
I've thought about that one miracle so many times. That He led us so wisely, so gently, in all the years leading up to April of 2009. The Lord drew us to Himself during the "building phases" of our lives, both together and separately. He inspired a hunger and thirst for His word, so we studied and studied to "show ourselves approved. We took verses like this seriously:
14 Warn them before God against quarreling about words; it is of no value, and only ruins those who listen. 15 Do your best to present yourself to God as one approved, a workman who does not need to be ashamed and who correctly handles the word of truth. 16 Avoid godless chatter, because those who indulge in it will become more and more ungodly. 17 Their teaching will spread like gangrene. 2 Timothy 2:15
...and tried to live in such a way that we were growing into followers and teachers and helpmates who were Christlike. Perfect? No. Seeking? YES!! We were seeking Him out to live Christ-centered lives because it feels good and right and holy and peaceful to live that way. Not to prepare for the worst-- we didn't know we were preparing for anything, really. Eternity, yes. Minor trials and temptations on earth, certainly. But this thing? No, because I thought I was blessed and highly favored and that this meant...well, I didn't think it through. But to me, it implied...
wait...Jesus said in John 16 that in this world we will have tribulations, but take heart! Be of good cheer! He has overcome the world!
The rain fell and the winds slammed against us, but the house didn't fall because the preparation had been done ahead of time. We were ready for anything-- we just didn't know it.
Jonathan and I were laughing about the fact that you can't move your house during a storm. It's either built solidly right now or you're going to have to hang on and fix it after the crisis has passed.
You never know when weather is going to happen. You don't expect the death of your son. You don't expect to get laid off. You don't expect to get a diagnosis of breast cancer when you're only 34. You don't expect a brain tumor at 37. You don't expect to get your heart broken by the man of your dreams. You don't expect to still be longing for a spouse at 43. But the wise man? He builds his house against the day of trouble-- on the Rock. And the rains will come and the winds will howl, and he'll lose some shingles and maybe some siding and a front door, but the house will stand. And God promised to give wisdom to anyone who asked. As much as we want, He's got it.
Church, we have to get building-- we have to turn back to our first love-- the One who wooed us to Himself in the first place. We have to unstick ourselves from church politics and petty disagreements. We have to be about the Cross of Christ. We have to be about Him for Him alone and get our houses off the soft sod with sandy, easy earth underneath and get our butts on the Rock.
24"Therefore everyone who hears these words of Mine and acts on them, may be compared to a wise man who built his house on the rock.
25"And the rain fell, and the floods came, and the winds blew and slammed against that house; and yet it did not fall, for it had been founded on the rock.
26"Everyone who hears these words of Mine and does not act on them, will be like a foolish man who built his house on the sand.
27"The rain fell, and the floods came, and the winds blew and slammed against that house; and it fell--and great was its fall."
28When Jesus had finished these words, the crowds were amazed at His teaching;
29 for He was teaching them as one having authority, and not as their scribes.
Matthew 7: 24-29
First things first-- I am totally breaking a serious rule in Bible study-- there is SO MUCH to this passage, and if you have a passage that starts with "therefore"-- well, you know you have to search to understand what it's "there for" :). So I had the entire chapter here and realized that I wanted to talk about every bit of it, but I was too all over the place. The real thing is this foundation thing that I keep coming back to in my heart.
My dear friend Jonathan and I were talking on Saturday afternoon (he's a seminary student at Duke and he's interning at a great big church in Atlanta this summer and I could not be more proud of him-- I joked with his mother when D and I first got married that once I was pregnant, I wanted her to spit in my drink so I could have a son just like her sons-- I have a handful of women whose sons are so amazing, I have made the same joke with them...they THINK it's a joke... :)).
Anyway, Jonathan was telling me about the sermon he was going to give the next morning at church and he reminded me of the story of the wise man who builds his house on the rock, which is one that has come to mind for me again and again in the last year.
I remember being a little girl in children's church at Rockdale Baptist Church. Mr. Ronnie and Miss Janet and the other teachers would teach us little Bible songs and I still know those songs, and the Word is written right across my heart thanks to some of those little verses (all of you kindergarten and preschool teachers, don't give up! Your work is so valuable and huge! You never know what kinds of eternal seeds you are planting!!).
The wise man built his house upon the rock
The wise man built his house upon the rock
The wise man built his house upon the rock
And the rain came tumbling down
Oh, the rain came down
And the floods came up
The rain came down
And the floods came up
The rain came down
And the floods came up
And the wise man's house stood firm.
The foolish man built his house upon the sand
The foolish man built his house upon the sand
The foolish man built his house upon the sand
And the rain came tumbling down
Oh, the rain came down
And the floods came up
The rain came down
And the floods came up
The rain came down
And the floods came up
And the foolish man's house went "splat!"
So, build your house on the Lord Jesus Christ
Build your house on the Lord Jesus Christ... (etc.)
I remember thinking about the images those verses paint-- I couldn't imagine building a house on Stone Mountain or on the big rock that we had out on the play ground at Pine Street. How would they get it to stay and keep from sliding off? At the same time, building in the sandbox was pretty messy and everyone knows that the sandbox is no place to be if it's raining.
Such a literal child, from the beginning.
Anyway, this story is gigantically important to us as believers.
The thing about trials is that we don't expect them most of the time ("no one expects the Spanish Inquisition!"). In the parable, Jesus had just been warning his listeners to watch out for teachers who would mislead them and He was advising them to consider the fruit that they bear. The whole warning is fairly intense.
But the thing that stood out for me last year was the fact that we had no idea that a storm was coming. That's the thing about storms (or the Spanish Inquisition...)-- we know to be prepared for them, to mend our leaking roofs or to have candles and extra batteries and a weather radio on hand, but really, you don't have time to replace the entire roof when you hear on the news that a weather event is slated for your area that afternoon.
We didn't know that we needed to be prepared for our worst nightmare last year. We got pregnant, rejoiced over our great blessing, and went about the business of registering at baby stores, designing a nursery, poring over baby name books and sending emails back and forth with funny ideas, giving our family fun "worksheets" at Thanksgiving dinner, asking them for suggestions-- family names, family stories connected to those names, etc. We were prepared for a sunny spring. We were looking forward to happy sleepless nights and figuring out how to breastfeed.
We didn't expect a freaking hurricane.
But here's the thing that was so beautiful: our house was built on the Rock.
And the rain fell, and the floods came, and the winds blew and slammed against that house; and yet it did not fall, for it had been founded on the rock.
I've thought about that one miracle so many times. That He led us so wisely, so gently, in all the years leading up to April of 2009. The Lord drew us to Himself during the "building phases" of our lives, both together and separately. He inspired a hunger and thirst for His word, so we studied and studied to "show ourselves approved. We took verses like this seriously:
14 Warn them before God against quarreling about words; it is of no value, and only ruins those who listen. 15 Do your best to present yourself to God as one approved, a workman who does not need to be ashamed and who correctly handles the word of truth. 16 Avoid godless chatter, because those who indulge in it will become more and more ungodly. 17 Their teaching will spread like gangrene. 2 Timothy 2:15
...and tried to live in such a way that we were growing into followers and teachers and helpmates who were Christlike. Perfect? No. Seeking? YES!! We were seeking Him out to live Christ-centered lives because it feels good and right and holy and peaceful to live that way. Not to prepare for the worst-- we didn't know we were preparing for anything, really. Eternity, yes. Minor trials and temptations on earth, certainly. But this thing? No, because I thought I was blessed and highly favored and that this meant...well, I didn't think it through. But to me, it implied...
wait...Jesus said in John 16 that in this world we will have tribulations, but take heart! Be of good cheer! He has overcome the world!
The rain fell and the winds slammed against us, but the house didn't fall because the preparation had been done ahead of time. We were ready for anything-- we just didn't know it.
Jonathan and I were laughing about the fact that you can't move your house during a storm. It's either built solidly right now or you're going to have to hang on and fix it after the crisis has passed.
You never know when weather is going to happen. You don't expect the death of your son. You don't expect to get laid off. You don't expect to get a diagnosis of breast cancer when you're only 34. You don't expect a brain tumor at 37. You don't expect to get your heart broken by the man of your dreams. You don't expect to still be longing for a spouse at 43. But the wise man? He builds his house against the day of trouble-- on the Rock. And the rains will come and the winds will howl, and he'll lose some shingles and maybe some siding and a front door, but the house will stand. And God promised to give wisdom to anyone who asked. As much as we want, He's got it.
Church, we have to get building-- we have to turn back to our first love-- the One who wooed us to Himself in the first place. We have to unstick ourselves from church politics and petty disagreements. We have to be about the Cross of Christ. We have to be about Him for Him alone and get our houses off the soft sod with sandy, easy earth underneath and get our butts on the Rock.
Saturday, July 10, 2010
Time
This summer seems to have passed so quickly. It's nearly drawing to a close and I haven't gotten half the things done that I had on my list... but I have enjoyed time with my husband and reading book after book at my parents' pool.
So I'm choosing not to beat myself up for not finishing the tasks I had planned. I'm choosing to be so thankful for time to myself. I'm choosing to be thankful for a summer that wasn't drenched in tears.... Don and I have wondered aloud several times this summer, "What did we do this time last year??" We walked. We talked. He changed the dressing on my wound three times a day. We cried. We felt so...sad.
But this year has been different and I'm so grateful. I remember being just at the beginning of the journey of grief after the death of a child and thinking that life would never be normal again. Couldn't be. And granted, there is always this check of sadness in the back of my heart and always will be-- always should be-- but I'm not depressed or hopeless. God has been faithful to heal the ache of the wound. The loss is still there, but the desperation is gone.
It does pop up sometimes. It did last week. I cried on my mom's shoulder three weeks ago. I sometimes stare at the ceiling long after D has gone to sleep and wonder what life would be like with our little guy toddling around. I read a status update on FB where a friend of mine joked that she would like to sell her screaming baby at a garage sale, and I know she's kidding, but I don't think I'll ever hear comments like that from moms ever again and not wince and get a little pissed for a minute. Even if the Lord chooses to give us another baby, I think I'll always want to shake people who say it-- even though they love their babies and would lay their lives down for them. In the same way, I would never joke about wanting my husband to die. It's not funny. It happens to some people. I know that I'm uniquely sensitive, though, so I'll keep it to myself (or share it with you guys here-- but we're on the same page, aren't we, in many ways?).
I saw a Hoarders episode where this woman lost her mind after her baby died in a way that was similar to what we think happened to Ben (I think her baby had a cord accident or something-- can't remember). She started keeping everything. The whole house was out of control. She just couldn't get it together. It had been years and she was slowly falling apart.
I won't judge that woman. I know it can happen. I know that the only thing that has kept me from losing my sanity is my faith in Jesus. Before carrying a baby for 9 (10?) months and then holding him, dead, in my arms, I had no idea how intense a mother's love for her baby is. I had no idea. I didn't even get to know Ben. I can't imagine how insanely intense and agonizing that connection from mother to child is when the relationship is allowed to grow. And when I think of this woman, it occurs to me that she had two other children before the one she lost-- is it possible that her grief was even greater because she understood the fulness of what she had lost? In a way that I can only peek at? How could you endure the death of a child when you know what could have been? Know it from experience?
Jesus. That's all. His goodness and closeness and the fact that this life is not all there is. That we'll only sojourn here for a few years but will spend bazillion gazillion matrillion years with Him and with those we have lost. Time.
This whole journey feels like such a freaking mind bender sometimes, you know? My prayer, constantly, is that the Lord would give me His mind in it all. Just help me to see and experience it the way He meant for me to. Help me walk it out the way He intended. There is so much comfort knowing that He knew what was coming and never planned to abandon me to it. Bad things happen to everyone-- EVERYONE-- and we are ridiculous if we think that somehow we are exempt because we are believers. Instead, we should expect that bad things will happen because we understand that the place we live in-- this planet-- is eaten up with destruction, but that the difference between us before Christ and us after Christ is that there is an answer to our suffering. There is a balm in Gilead. There is One who walks with us. We are not exempt, but we are also not alone.
None of this is pointless.
So I'm choosing not to beat myself up for not finishing the tasks I had planned. I'm choosing to be so thankful for time to myself. I'm choosing to be thankful for a summer that wasn't drenched in tears.... Don and I have wondered aloud several times this summer, "What did we do this time last year??" We walked. We talked. He changed the dressing on my wound three times a day. We cried. We felt so...sad.
But this year has been different and I'm so grateful. I remember being just at the beginning of the journey of grief after the death of a child and thinking that life would never be normal again. Couldn't be. And granted, there is always this check of sadness in the back of my heart and always will be-- always should be-- but I'm not depressed or hopeless. God has been faithful to heal the ache of the wound. The loss is still there, but the desperation is gone.
It does pop up sometimes. It did last week. I cried on my mom's shoulder three weeks ago. I sometimes stare at the ceiling long after D has gone to sleep and wonder what life would be like with our little guy toddling around. I read a status update on FB where a friend of mine joked that she would like to sell her screaming baby at a garage sale, and I know she's kidding, but I don't think I'll ever hear comments like that from moms ever again and not wince and get a little pissed for a minute. Even if the Lord chooses to give us another baby, I think I'll always want to shake people who say it-- even though they love their babies and would lay their lives down for them. In the same way, I would never joke about wanting my husband to die. It's not funny. It happens to some people. I know that I'm uniquely sensitive, though, so I'll keep it to myself (or share it with you guys here-- but we're on the same page, aren't we, in many ways?).
I saw a Hoarders episode where this woman lost her mind after her baby died in a way that was similar to what we think happened to Ben (I think her baby had a cord accident or something-- can't remember). She started keeping everything. The whole house was out of control. She just couldn't get it together. It had been years and she was slowly falling apart.
I won't judge that woman. I know it can happen. I know that the only thing that has kept me from losing my sanity is my faith in Jesus. Before carrying a baby for 9 (10?) months and then holding him, dead, in my arms, I had no idea how intense a mother's love for her baby is. I had no idea. I didn't even get to know Ben. I can't imagine how insanely intense and agonizing that connection from mother to child is when the relationship is allowed to grow. And when I think of this woman, it occurs to me that she had two other children before the one she lost-- is it possible that her grief was even greater because she understood the fulness of what she had lost? In a way that I can only peek at? How could you endure the death of a child when you know what could have been? Know it from experience?
Jesus. That's all. His goodness and closeness and the fact that this life is not all there is. That we'll only sojourn here for a few years but will spend bazillion gazillion matrillion years with Him and with those we have lost. Time.
This whole journey feels like such a freaking mind bender sometimes, you know? My prayer, constantly, is that the Lord would give me His mind in it all. Just help me to see and experience it the way He meant for me to. Help me walk it out the way He intended. There is so much comfort knowing that He knew what was coming and never planned to abandon me to it. Bad things happen to everyone-- EVERYONE-- and we are ridiculous if we think that somehow we are exempt because we are believers. Instead, we should expect that bad things will happen because we understand that the place we live in-- this planet-- is eaten up with destruction, but that the difference between us before Christ and us after Christ is that there is an answer to our suffering. There is a balm in Gilead. There is One who walks with us. We are not exempt, but we are also not alone.
None of this is pointless.
Wednesday, June 23, 2010
Relatives
Even dunces who keep quiet are thought to be wise;
as long as they keep their mouths shut, they're smart.
Proverbs 17:28 (The Message)
I know that, in life, it's honestly all relative.
For instance, the frustration felt by the housewife who is trying desperately to run a household which employs four gardeners and several housekeepers, battling the pressure to keep up appearances of perfection and the loneliness of isolation, can be crushing.
It's almost impossible to avoid the commentary that must address that, though: I should be so lucky to have the frustration of managing my housekeeper. I'm happy to pay all my bills this month, one woman says. I think I could make myself get over the whole "keeping up with the Joneses" thing-- let's see that lady deal with sucking up your pride at the grocery store when you run out of money at the cash register because you just knew you stuck two twenties in your purse, but there's only one.
Lady One argues back (in my mind), You don't know what I feel. You don't know the horror I deal with daily. At least your husband is home. At least he loves you. At least you know for sure that he's not sleeping with his secretary.
Lady Two considers her luck in that area, but barks back, At least your husband has a job.
And it can go on and on.
So I recognize that so many things are relative-- one person complains about their crappy car situation while his neighbor wishes getting his car fixed was the only thing on his list of things to do after dialysis. The guy with dialysis guy complains about his health while the woman in the butt kicking dream car next to him just lost her job, her home, and her best friend.
I'm not trying to bum anyone out. I promise. It's just kind of what I've been saying to myself about complaining lately. But then, I was listening to this woman talk (I didn't know her, so if we're friends and you had this same tirade in a grocery store lately, don't worry!! It's not you!)-- granted, she really seemed to have a lot on her, but I wanted to hit her in the face. I wanted to scream, "Shut your stupid mouth" and pull her hair.
Surprised? Sorry. I've only ever thought about doing things like that...
That woman was complaining about the curse and burden her two lovely children were to her today. She was tired. Her youngest son, an infant, has been colicky lately, and she was spewing complaints all over, wishing that he had a "mute" button (I've heard that one several times in the last two weeks-- so weird).
You know where I'm going with this...
That woman probably has other stresses that she's not as comfortable blabbing about in a public forum, but the anger I felt listening to her was directly related to this. "YOUR BABIES ARE ALIVE," I wanted to yell at her. At least your son has living tear ducts to cry from! You can hold him to your heart, lady, and he will eventually calm down, and I know you're tired, but you sound like a spoiled brat. You sound like that girl on Willie Wonka that everyone cheered for when she blew up (is that right? It's been so long since I saw that movie... I just remember that I hated her and we all clapped when she came to an end). You have everything, everything, and you want to mute your child?
Sigh.
But it's all relative. Maybe her husband is a jerk. Mine's pretty great. Maybe her living situation is rocky. Mine is stable and comfortable.
Or maybe she just doesn't know what she has.
Okay, I'm convicted. I'll pray for this stranger, that she will know as deeply as she has ever known anything that she is a mother who is richly blessed. And just like I need to cry out to the Father to help me remember how extraordinarily blessed I am, I will pray for her that she will remember the women who long for babies to comfort.
How different would this place be if we stopped complaining? If we were ever aware of how bad it makes us sound, and how it sometimes serves to highlight what other people lack? How amazing would this life be if we focused on the things that inspired our gratitude instead of the things that inspire our grief?
There's a key to something eternal here. If God is the point to everything-- every day, every mundane thing, all of our breaths and blinks of our eyes-- then it should all somehow lead back to Him.... My friend Matt used to say that the secret password into the Holy of Holies is "Thank you"....
4 Enter His gates with thanksgiving
And His courts with praise
Give thanks to Him, bless His name.
5 For the LORD is good;
His lovingkindness is everlasting
And His faithfulness to all generations.
Psalm 100:4-5
as long as they keep their mouths shut, they're smart.
Proverbs 17:28 (The Message)
I know that, in life, it's honestly all relative.
For instance, the frustration felt by the housewife who is trying desperately to run a household which employs four gardeners and several housekeepers, battling the pressure to keep up appearances of perfection and the loneliness of isolation, can be crushing.
It's almost impossible to avoid the commentary that must address that, though: I should be so lucky to have the frustration of managing my housekeeper. I'm happy to pay all my bills this month, one woman says. I think I could make myself get over the whole "keeping up with the Joneses" thing-- let's see that lady deal with sucking up your pride at the grocery store when you run out of money at the cash register because you just knew you stuck two twenties in your purse, but there's only one.
Lady One argues back (in my mind), You don't know what I feel. You don't know the horror I deal with daily. At least your husband is home. At least he loves you. At least you know for sure that he's not sleeping with his secretary.
Lady Two considers her luck in that area, but barks back, At least your husband has a job.
And it can go on and on.
So I recognize that so many things are relative-- one person complains about their crappy car situation while his neighbor wishes getting his car fixed was the only thing on his list of things to do after dialysis. The guy with dialysis guy complains about his health while the woman in the butt kicking dream car next to him just lost her job, her home, and her best friend.
I'm not trying to bum anyone out. I promise. It's just kind of what I've been saying to myself about complaining lately. But then, I was listening to this woman talk (I didn't know her, so if we're friends and you had this same tirade in a grocery store lately, don't worry!! It's not you!)-- granted, she really seemed to have a lot on her, but I wanted to hit her in the face. I wanted to scream, "Shut your stupid mouth" and pull her hair.
Surprised? Sorry. I've only ever thought about doing things like that...
That woman was complaining about the curse and burden her two lovely children were to her today. She was tired. Her youngest son, an infant, has been colicky lately, and she was spewing complaints all over, wishing that he had a "mute" button (I've heard that one several times in the last two weeks-- so weird).
You know where I'm going with this...
That woman probably has other stresses that she's not as comfortable blabbing about in a public forum, but the anger I felt listening to her was directly related to this. "YOUR BABIES ARE ALIVE," I wanted to yell at her. At least your son has living tear ducts to cry from! You can hold him to your heart, lady, and he will eventually calm down, and I know you're tired, but you sound like a spoiled brat. You sound like that girl on Willie Wonka that everyone cheered for when she blew up (is that right? It's been so long since I saw that movie... I just remember that I hated her and we all clapped when she came to an end). You have everything, everything, and you want to mute your child?
Sigh.
But it's all relative. Maybe her husband is a jerk. Mine's pretty great. Maybe her living situation is rocky. Mine is stable and comfortable.
Or maybe she just doesn't know what she has.
Okay, I'm convicted. I'll pray for this stranger, that she will know as deeply as she has ever known anything that she is a mother who is richly blessed. And just like I need to cry out to the Father to help me remember how extraordinarily blessed I am, I will pray for her that she will remember the women who long for babies to comfort.
How different would this place be if we stopped complaining? If we were ever aware of how bad it makes us sound, and how it sometimes serves to highlight what other people lack? How amazing would this life be if we focused on the things that inspired our gratitude instead of the things that inspire our grief?
There's a key to something eternal here. If God is the point to everything-- every day, every mundane thing, all of our breaths and blinks of our eyes-- then it should all somehow lead back to Him.... My friend Matt used to say that the secret password into the Holy of Holies is "Thank you"....
4 Enter His gates with thanksgiving
And His courts with praise
Give thanks to Him, bless His name.
5 For the LORD is good;
His lovingkindness is everlasting
And His faithfulness to all generations.
Psalm 100:4-5
Sunday, June 20, 2010
Nurseries in Heaven
So, I'm reading this book.
And after reading a certain chapter, I closed the book and wept. And this is what I prayed:
Oh God, I do not know when this pain will go away. It doesn't feel like it did last year, but I'm sometimes surprised by the pain that shows up fast, out of nowhere-- the longing for my son. I've heard from women whose babies have died that they never "get over it"-- that the grieving looks different, but it always stays, even once they have other children to fill their arms. It has been a little over a year and sometimes it feels like it has been a day... it is so surreal.
But at the same time, I am not in despair, and I have to ask you, would you tell Ben that I love him tonight? Oh God, will you lean close to my son and whisper to him that his mother loves him? And that I miss him and I long for him, but Lord, I don't want to bum him out. I know that he exists, that he is alive somewhere, that he is with you, so just kiss and hug him and tell him that I love him so, so deeply. And if a day is like a thousand years, and a thousand years is like a moment, tell him that I'll be with him shortly-- even if that's 50 years from now-- and that I long for that day.
But here's this: Lord, I prayed for him-- I cried out to you for this child the way Hannah cried out for Samuel, and I told you before he was born that he was Yours for all the days of his life. I dedicated him to you. So I don't know how much sense this makes, but Lord, I pray that he still fulfills his destiny. I felt so strongly before he was born that you had created him to be a worshipper-- that my son was a musician, that he would glorify your name with his voice and his hands, so I pray that even in heaven, my son would fulfill his destiny. You knew that he would be with you early-- you knew the plans you had for him just like you knew the plans you had for me when I was born. I long for him, but I say yes to your plans. I say YES to your higher ways. I release him, as pitifully as I am able, into his destiny-- whatever that looks like. It's too high for me to understand. It's too supernatural. It's too otherworldly. It's so beyond me. He is with you, and to be with you in your presence has to be so much more alive than to be here in my presence. So again, I bless your plans. I thank you that I am his mother and that I will see him again one day, and I say let it be with him according to your will-- and I thank you that your will is perfect. And that you have given me so much peace.
Know that I feel perfectly kooky praying like that sometimes.
I mean, seriously-- praying "for" someone who is already dead? That doesn't even make sense to me. It's like, whatever-- game OVER, right?
But his life was just beginning. I have just had the hardest time accepting that it was over for him. Don and I have talked about it so many times, and we always end up talking about Ben in the present tense, wondering what God's plan for this whole thing was. Knowing that life on earth is a blip on the screen-- 80 years or more if we're lucky-- so it's entirely possible to have been created for something beyond life on this planet. That, like my friend Winter said so long ago, our sons' destinies were to be with the Lord early.
Ah, friends, we have hope, don't we?
I mentioned a book... I'm hesitant to put it here because, well, these types of books bring out the skeptic in me (which is funny to even say, and if you ever saw some of the prayer sessions I was a part of in the Schools of Intercession, Worship, and Spiritual Warfare in YWAM, you'd laugh at me calling myself a skeptic about anything prophetic, because we saw some amazing things in those prayer times-- though I confess, one of my biggest struggles as a believer has been "intellectualism"-- which is just a fancy way of saying that my dork mind has the temerity to actually think it's smarter than God).
Anyway, I'm totally putting the book title in here and I'm going to type an excerpt, too, because I was profoundly blessed while I read. So far, every single word the author has written has brought glory and attention only to God, never to herself, and has not contradicted anything I know of the Word, and these are things that I look for when I read prophetic books (this is a woman's account of prophetic insights into heaven-- it's fairly radical). I first heard about the book on Facebook-- a dear friend had posted the link on her page and I clicked on it because, I mean, really, who isn't going to at least be a little curious when they hear someone say that the Lord took them into heaven during one of their times of intercession (and if you know any real intercessors-- the kinds whose prayer sessions last so long that they take lunch breaks-- you know that God does crazy stuff with them. And that makes perfect sense-- they spend hours and hours on their faces before Him, listening to Him, talking with Him. There is something very precious about the relationships built with the Lord in the place of prayer)? And this lady was saying that He had taken her up repeatedly.
I listened and wanted to roll my eyes, but couldn't. Don and I both sat on the couch and listened to this very nice, very normal lady being interviewed in what looked like someone's living room and couldn't help but smile. We were both waiting, though, to hear about the babies. We knew that something was coming about babies. If you're reading this and you've ever lost someone, you know that feeling-- that constant curiosity to know where they are, what it might look like, how it might feel for them. I have always known with 100% certainty that my son is not alone and that he is loved and that the Lord has let him know that his mother and father did not willingly give him up but that we bless the Lord's plan for him, but I have also wondered.... will he be an infant still when I see him again? Will he be a grown man? Who is taking care of him? Have our grandmothers seen him? Have our grandfathers kissed his face? Have our friends and family who have gone on before us been able to coo over him, the way babies on earth get adored and cooed over? Oh, I pray so. I pray that my friends Ellen and Stacie have held my son, and that my grandmothers have playfully argued over whose side of the family he resembles (they're both out on that one-- he was his father's side of the family, all the way). I wonder if Winter's boy Josiah knows him, and if Susan's boy Will, four days younger than Ben, has become one of his playmates.
How does it work, Lord? How does it work?
I should say that I don't think about this all the time-- just sometimes. Sometimes I give myself permission to dwell on it because it's fascinating, but I can't go there often because I am aware that these sessions usually end in weeping. And that's okay, too, but life would become fairly unmanageable if that was a daily event :) .
Anyway, I know that I have many, many new (and old) friends reading this blog who have also lost babies, and I wanted to share this with you-- I'll post a link to the website where you can buy the book if you're interested in reading the whole thing for yourself.
p. 74 (a couple of pages into the chapter about "heaven's nurseries")
...[The] nurseries hold all the babies [aborted, miscarried, stillborn, etc.]. They are received by Jesus and He heals the wounds of their hearts. They are cared for by angelic beings who sing to them as they rock them in their arms. The breath of God nourishes them as they grow ever so slowly. Because of the goodness of God, a 20 year old mother could miscarry her baby and 50 years later die and go to heaven; her baby would only be around 3 years old (in earth years). She is given her baby when she arrives and she gets to raise it. How wonderful for all the parents who thought they had completely lost that privilege!
... The first illustration is of [an angel] and a baby named Precious who was miscarried in 2006. This baby girl was wanted very badly by the parents and one day she will be restored to them, because they have received Jesus as their Savior. She will be treated like a princess until their arrival in heaven. There will be many surprised women who did not know they had miscarried a baby, because it was so early in the pregnancy. What a shock when they arrive and find a little "package" waiting for them.
The facilities where the babies are cared for are very beautiful. There are arched ceilings with openings at the top which cause the rooms to be bathed in a warm peachy glow. Flowers are growing right out of the walls and tiny birds come and perch on the branches to sing for the babies. The babies' beds have the appearances of beautiful sea shells that come out from niches in the wall. Every baby's name is etched in the wall above them; embellished onto lovely ribbons if it is a girl and on stately shields if they are boys. If you have a baby in heaven and you haven't named it, please do so...
Some of the angels appear to be male and some female but they all wore soft ivory gowns with pale colored sashes. They held the tiny babies (some only inches long) in the palm of their hands and the bigger ones against their chests. Even though these babies are tiny, they are different than the babies here, because they do not necessarily need to sleep. They do rest, but they also play. They already have the ability to "know" things and they can communicate. They are raised in the perfect love of God and joy is an automatic part of their lives [just like I prayed for Benjamin before he was born-- that he would know the perfect love and joy of the Lord from the womb]. It was the most beautiful place, filled with the peace of God. Their little faces reflect the Glory of God and they will know Him as we all should know Him.
from Revealing Heaven: An Eyewitness Account, Kat Kerr
See what I mean? Precious. What if?
Here's the bottom line:
Oh, the depth of the riches of the wisdom and knowledge of God! How unsearchable His judgments, and His paths beyond tracing out! Who has known the mind of the Lord? Or who has been His counselor? Who has ever given to God that God should repay him? For from Him and through Him and to Him are all things. To Him be the glory forever. Amen.
Romans 11:33-36
Because whatever the truth is, it's good. Wherever our children are, it's okay. As long as my God is the God He keeps on showing Himself to be-- the one who comforts me in the middle of the night, who saves all the tears from my eyes, who cradles me like a little child, who never disappoints me, and who fills my life with good things-- yes, GOOD THINGS, even in the valley of the shadow of death. As long as that God is with me and fills me with His Spirit, it's all good. It's all going to be okay. Because whatever the plan, even if it's not this one, it's perfect.
But I'm glad He's cool with us wondering.
And I hope this lady's right.
:)
And after reading a certain chapter, I closed the book and wept. And this is what I prayed:
Oh God, I do not know when this pain will go away. It doesn't feel like it did last year, but I'm sometimes surprised by the pain that shows up fast, out of nowhere-- the longing for my son. I've heard from women whose babies have died that they never "get over it"-- that the grieving looks different, but it always stays, even once they have other children to fill their arms. It has been a little over a year and sometimes it feels like it has been a day... it is so surreal.
But at the same time, I am not in despair, and I have to ask you, would you tell Ben that I love him tonight? Oh God, will you lean close to my son and whisper to him that his mother loves him? And that I miss him and I long for him, but Lord, I don't want to bum him out. I know that he exists, that he is alive somewhere, that he is with you, so just kiss and hug him and tell him that I love him so, so deeply. And if a day is like a thousand years, and a thousand years is like a moment, tell him that I'll be with him shortly-- even if that's 50 years from now-- and that I long for that day.
But here's this: Lord, I prayed for him-- I cried out to you for this child the way Hannah cried out for Samuel, and I told you before he was born that he was Yours for all the days of his life. I dedicated him to you. So I don't know how much sense this makes, but Lord, I pray that he still fulfills his destiny. I felt so strongly before he was born that you had created him to be a worshipper-- that my son was a musician, that he would glorify your name with his voice and his hands, so I pray that even in heaven, my son would fulfill his destiny. You knew that he would be with you early-- you knew the plans you had for him just like you knew the plans you had for me when I was born. I long for him, but I say yes to your plans. I say YES to your higher ways. I release him, as pitifully as I am able, into his destiny-- whatever that looks like. It's too high for me to understand. It's too supernatural. It's too otherworldly. It's so beyond me. He is with you, and to be with you in your presence has to be so much more alive than to be here in my presence. So again, I bless your plans. I thank you that I am his mother and that I will see him again one day, and I say let it be with him according to your will-- and I thank you that your will is perfect. And that you have given me so much peace.
Know that I feel perfectly kooky praying like that sometimes.
I mean, seriously-- praying "for" someone who is already dead? That doesn't even make sense to me. It's like, whatever-- game OVER, right?
But his life was just beginning. I have just had the hardest time accepting that it was over for him. Don and I have talked about it so many times, and we always end up talking about Ben in the present tense, wondering what God's plan for this whole thing was. Knowing that life on earth is a blip on the screen-- 80 years or more if we're lucky-- so it's entirely possible to have been created for something beyond life on this planet. That, like my friend Winter said so long ago, our sons' destinies were to be with the Lord early.
Ah, friends, we have hope, don't we?
I mentioned a book... I'm hesitant to put it here because, well, these types of books bring out the skeptic in me (which is funny to even say, and if you ever saw some of the prayer sessions I was a part of in the Schools of Intercession, Worship, and Spiritual Warfare in YWAM, you'd laugh at me calling myself a skeptic about anything prophetic, because we saw some amazing things in those prayer times-- though I confess, one of my biggest struggles as a believer has been "intellectualism"-- which is just a fancy way of saying that my dork mind has the temerity to actually think it's smarter than God).
Anyway, I'm totally putting the book title in here and I'm going to type an excerpt, too, because I was profoundly blessed while I read. So far, every single word the author has written has brought glory and attention only to God, never to herself, and has not contradicted anything I know of the Word, and these are things that I look for when I read prophetic books (this is a woman's account of prophetic insights into heaven-- it's fairly radical). I first heard about the book on Facebook-- a dear friend had posted the link on her page and I clicked on it because, I mean, really, who isn't going to at least be a little curious when they hear someone say that the Lord took them into heaven during one of their times of intercession (and if you know any real intercessors-- the kinds whose prayer sessions last so long that they take lunch breaks-- you know that God does crazy stuff with them. And that makes perfect sense-- they spend hours and hours on their faces before Him, listening to Him, talking with Him. There is something very precious about the relationships built with the Lord in the place of prayer)? And this lady was saying that He had taken her up repeatedly.
I listened and wanted to roll my eyes, but couldn't. Don and I both sat on the couch and listened to this very nice, very normal lady being interviewed in what looked like someone's living room and couldn't help but smile. We were both waiting, though, to hear about the babies. We knew that something was coming about babies. If you're reading this and you've ever lost someone, you know that feeling-- that constant curiosity to know where they are, what it might look like, how it might feel for them. I have always known with 100% certainty that my son is not alone and that he is loved and that the Lord has let him know that his mother and father did not willingly give him up but that we bless the Lord's plan for him, but I have also wondered.... will he be an infant still when I see him again? Will he be a grown man? Who is taking care of him? Have our grandmothers seen him? Have our grandfathers kissed his face? Have our friends and family who have gone on before us been able to coo over him, the way babies on earth get adored and cooed over? Oh, I pray so. I pray that my friends Ellen and Stacie have held my son, and that my grandmothers have playfully argued over whose side of the family he resembles (they're both out on that one-- he was his father's side of the family, all the way). I wonder if Winter's boy Josiah knows him, and if Susan's boy Will, four days younger than Ben, has become one of his playmates.
How does it work, Lord? How does it work?
I should say that I don't think about this all the time-- just sometimes. Sometimes I give myself permission to dwell on it because it's fascinating, but I can't go there often because I am aware that these sessions usually end in weeping. And that's okay, too, but life would become fairly unmanageable if that was a daily event :) .
Anyway, I know that I have many, many new (and old) friends reading this blog who have also lost babies, and I wanted to share this with you-- I'll post a link to the website where you can buy the book if you're interested in reading the whole thing for yourself.
p. 74 (a couple of pages into the chapter about "heaven's nurseries")
...[The] nurseries hold all the babies [aborted, miscarried, stillborn, etc.]. They are received by Jesus and He heals the wounds of their hearts. They are cared for by angelic beings who sing to them as they rock them in their arms. The breath of God nourishes them as they grow ever so slowly. Because of the goodness of God, a 20 year old mother could miscarry her baby and 50 years later die and go to heaven; her baby would only be around 3 years old (in earth years). She is given her baby when she arrives and she gets to raise it. How wonderful for all the parents who thought they had completely lost that privilege!
... The first illustration is of [an angel] and a baby named Precious who was miscarried in 2006. This baby girl was wanted very badly by the parents and one day she will be restored to them, because they have received Jesus as their Savior. She will be treated like a princess until their arrival in heaven. There will be many surprised women who did not know they had miscarried a baby, because it was so early in the pregnancy. What a shock when they arrive and find a little "package" waiting for them.
The facilities where the babies are cared for are very beautiful. There are arched ceilings with openings at the top which cause the rooms to be bathed in a warm peachy glow. Flowers are growing right out of the walls and tiny birds come and perch on the branches to sing for the babies. The babies' beds have the appearances of beautiful sea shells that come out from niches in the wall. Every baby's name is etched in the wall above them; embellished onto lovely ribbons if it is a girl and on stately shields if they are boys. If you have a baby in heaven and you haven't named it, please do so...
Some of the angels appear to be male and some female but they all wore soft ivory gowns with pale colored sashes. They held the tiny babies (some only inches long) in the palm of their hands and the bigger ones against their chests. Even though these babies are tiny, they are different than the babies here, because they do not necessarily need to sleep. They do rest, but they also play. They already have the ability to "know" things and they can communicate. They are raised in the perfect love of God and joy is an automatic part of their lives [just like I prayed for Benjamin before he was born-- that he would know the perfect love and joy of the Lord from the womb]. It was the most beautiful place, filled with the peace of God. Their little faces reflect the Glory of God and they will know Him as we all should know Him.
from Revealing Heaven: An Eyewitness Account, Kat Kerr
See what I mean? Precious. What if?
Here's the bottom line:
Oh, the depth of the riches of the wisdom and knowledge of God! How unsearchable His judgments, and His paths beyond tracing out! Who has known the mind of the Lord? Or who has been His counselor? Who has ever given to God that God should repay him? For from Him and through Him and to Him are all things. To Him be the glory forever. Amen.
Romans 11:33-36
Because whatever the truth is, it's good. Wherever our children are, it's okay. As long as my God is the God He keeps on showing Himself to be-- the one who comforts me in the middle of the night, who saves all the tears from my eyes, who cradles me like a little child, who never disappoints me, and who fills my life with good things-- yes, GOOD THINGS, even in the valley of the shadow of death. As long as that God is with me and fills me with His Spirit, it's all good. It's all going to be okay. Because whatever the plan, even if it's not this one, it's perfect.
But I'm glad He's cool with us wondering.
And I hope this lady's right.
:)
Monday, May 17, 2010
sigh.
Oh, good afternoon.
Tired. All the tired teachers go, "haaay..."
And feeling a little quirksome.
The end of the year is like... what's it like? It's like... four weeks of feeling like you're being squished into a tiny bean bag, slooooowly.
The kids are at each other's throats, the teachers are stretched as thin as can be, the parents are completely freaking out, the wheels on the bus go 'round and 'round...
Something funny happened after Ben's birthday.
Nothing.
I don't know what it was. This whole year, I have felt like I was on some sort of countdown toward this magical, heartbreaking date, and once it happened, it was... anticlimactic? That's not right. It was...just a day.
He was just as gone.
He was just as much the gigantic life-changer wrapped in a teeninesey package as he ever was.
The scar across my tummy still itches.
The pain in my heart still comes and goes.
I don't know what I expected from that day.
But here's something I know now: I can cry out to the Lord and He hears me. I have been offered so much advise from so many beautiful, genuinely good-hearted people this year and have found that so much of what I really needed to hear and know could only be spoken to my heart through His word and waiting in His presence.
I have also learned that He can speak to my pain through the lips of people who do not know or love Him. I just have to listen. He's hiding everywhere.
I have learned that He really is the only source of life for me. That Jesus Christ is the only answer for me.
I have learned that I can run to the Rock of my salvation and even though I can't lay my hands on Him physically, He unfolds me and pours out the balm of His presence into my aches.
And I am learning about the sheer power of gratefulness.
Yesterday, I stood in my kitchen and got all teary-eyed and began to just say, "Oh Lord... thank you for my house. Oh wow, I just love my home. Thank you, thank you, thank you...."
And I felt like dancing.
And for a minute, I thought of how sweet it would be to be dancing my son around this beautiful home, but I knew we would dance around one day... just not today... and I brought my brain back to this moment of thankfulness.
Oh, how I love Jesus. Oh, how I love Jesus...
Tired. All the tired teachers go, "haaay..."
And feeling a little quirksome.
The end of the year is like... what's it like? It's like... four weeks of feeling like you're being squished into a tiny bean bag, slooooowly.
The kids are at each other's throats, the teachers are stretched as thin as can be, the parents are completely freaking out, the wheels on the bus go 'round and 'round...
Something funny happened after Ben's birthday.
Nothing.
I don't know what it was. This whole year, I have felt like I was on some sort of countdown toward this magical, heartbreaking date, and once it happened, it was... anticlimactic? That's not right. It was...just a day.
He was just as gone.
He was just as much the gigantic life-changer wrapped in a teeninesey package as he ever was.
The scar across my tummy still itches.
The pain in my heart still comes and goes.
I don't know what I expected from that day.
But here's something I know now: I can cry out to the Lord and He hears me. I have been offered so much advise from so many beautiful, genuinely good-hearted people this year and have found that so much of what I really needed to hear and know could only be spoken to my heart through His word and waiting in His presence.
I have also learned that He can speak to my pain through the lips of people who do not know or love Him. I just have to listen. He's hiding everywhere.
I have learned that He really is the only source of life for me. That Jesus Christ is the only answer for me.
I have learned that I can run to the Rock of my salvation and even though I can't lay my hands on Him physically, He unfolds me and pours out the balm of His presence into my aches.
And I am learning about the sheer power of gratefulness.
Yesterday, I stood in my kitchen and got all teary-eyed and began to just say, "Oh Lord... thank you for my house. Oh wow, I just love my home. Thank you, thank you, thank you...."
And I felt like dancing.
And for a minute, I thought of how sweet it would be to be dancing my son around this beautiful home, but I knew we would dance around one day... just not today... and I brought my brain back to this moment of thankfulness.
Oh, how I love Jesus. Oh, how I love Jesus...
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