Rest--Word for 2019

How does one turn the calendar page to a new year when the hard of life is already a glaring reality?
It's the question I have been asking myself over and over as the new year approaches.  My answers vary depending on the moment--

Run away------fast and as far as I can go.

Live one day at a time...one moment at a time.

Just try and survive what lies ahead.

Enlarge my trust in a God who's got this.

Reframe my small world to an eternal big picture perspective.

Rest.

I was so ready for rest as November drew to a close.  Emotionally I was spent.  Places in me were jaded in ways which continue to reveal themselves.  I truly believed I needed a "compassionate leave" and was just as convinced that God was calling me to this.  It didn't cross my mind that there could be an arsenal of hard just around the corner.  Who "anticipates" the arrival of more pain!!

But it's here and I can't run away...I choose not to drop the baton leaving my siblings to carry it.  And during those times when I have some strength I desire to do more than just survive.  Enlarging my trust, reframing my world, taking each day as it comes; all of these have become disciplines I am giving my time and energy towards.

And Rest , well, it's the umbrella under which everything else lies.

It's time for my word or phrase for the year 2019.  I have had a number of possibilities move through my mind--

Trust without limits  (My 2018 word was "trust" and I have still so far to grow in this)

Hold all things loosely

Live open-handed

Rest.

It was my girl who suggested Rest.  Part of it seems preposterous with what looms up ahead and yet God had so clearly called me to rest late November.  When life turned upside down on December 5 I felt this incredulous question rise in my spirit--"How am I supposed to rest NOW?"  His response--

" I call you to rest"

and

"I am your Rest"

And so here I am on the eve of a new year with more hard and struggle than I can imagine, but knowing that unless I learn how to deeply rest in Him, I will crumble under the weight.  I need to tangibly adopt ways to rest my body and am already seeking these out.  Further, if I learn to live in His Rest, I will trust without limits and hold things more loosely and live open-handed.  Psalm 91 which I am still slowly memorizing keeps leading me to His rest--

"This I declare about the LORD;

He alone is my refuge, my place of safety.

He is my God and I trust Him."

Psalm 91:2

This is so how I want to live. 

 It's the beat with which I want my heart to rhythm.   

It's where I want to run and hide and the place I want to learn how to do more than just survive. 

 He's the One I want to trust without limits.  

It's His sovereign wisdom I pledge to believe,

who is able to orchestrate my small world into a far greater, eternal symphony.

It's in His Rest I hope to live open-handed.

Amen...so be it my Lord Jesus Christ.

Worship is Warfare

These past weeks I am being drawn to worship. 

It's where I find the calm in the midst of this storm.

Speaker Heidi Fleming reminds me of this strong armor available to me--

"Arms raised in worship is my victory stance"

"Worship is warfare"

"Praise and Surrender acknowledges--

'I need Jesus;

I can't do this alone.'" 

His "Arrival" takes me to a place of awe and worship and warfare

"O come now hail His arrival

the God of creation

Royalty robed in the flesh He created

Jesus the Maker has made Himself known

All Hail the Infinite infant God."

Too Much

It was already "too much" before this week unfolded.

The past weeks of slowly watching my kindred friend leave this life...

Those final days of saying "goodbye"...

The day of celebrating her life yes, but also grieving her loss...

It all felt like too much.

And then, what I thought would give way to a sense of relief in knowing her suffering is over and she is free and joyous and basking in Jesus' presence, what entered instead was this overall sense of weariness...as though the last 14 months of her battle have caught up with me.  This all out war that she fought and I soldiered with her on, this war has worn me in deep ways.  And I am tired.

I've been "here" before as a result of other life circumstances and therefore with an arsenal of understanding and ways of self care to put into practice.  Which I have.  But then the "more" of life overwhelmed me this week and it now feels like more than "too much" because it was "too much" already.

Sigh...

But God is still on the throne.  It's one of the first thoughts which came to me on Dec. 5 and what I will continue to remind myself of.

But God is still with me...still walking near and ever nearer...

But God's Word is still my truth source, my comfort, my guide...

But God's got this...and He's got me...

And though my frailty, my default to worry and fear, and the weariness  which swirls around and within me threatens to unmoor me, I know I am His and He is mine and we will walk on together, hands clasped, in this season of "too much." 
Because ultimately, He is enough.

“If you are past thirty-five, you surely grieve something.

If nothing else, you simply grieve for the passing of time…for the helplessness of knowing that tragedy can occur instantly and without warning,” writes southern novelist Vicki Covington.

Pastor and teacher Dr. Gary Klingsporn wrote, “Only a Christ who comes into and shares our tears….only that Christ can really speak meaningfully to us today.

Christ is born into whatever it is that we feel.  He comes not as a predictable hero, but as a vulnerable child.  From the Messiah in a manger to the King on a Cross, this is the mystery of the Incarnation—that into such a world of need, into such a world as ours, God whispered His profound love.  And He whispers it yet today.”

O God who entered time and eternity as a crying infant, break into my laughter and be present in my tears.  I lay before You today all that burdens my heart even as I listen for the singing of angels.

Thomas Kinkade

Christ the Light of the World

Come Lord Jesus

Oh Hallelujah!

The time has come to prepare for Your arrival

How I anticipate your coming!

How I need You to break into my world.

Come Lord Jesus

have Your way with me--

in me.

A Sacred Hour

This morning was a taste of"jumping in puddles".

I think it was last winter when Jen and I began talking about some day...jumping in puddles together.  She was in the midst of grueling radiation treatments and horrible burn pain but the end was in sight and like we did each time "the end was in sight" of these nightmarish stages of her cancer, we would talk about what we would do "when"...

There is so much we wanted to do, or perhaps it was more of what we wanted to "be".  I think we truly just wanted to "be" together and share our lives.  The growing of our friendship happened mid-cancer which meant that there was a lifetime of each other that we were so hoping to enjoy. We did not have years and years of a strong friendship to fall back on and yet we shared this undeniable bond...this "kindred-spirit" way about "us".  Neither of us could explain it--it was just there.  We joked once how we sounded like lovers because we just had to catch each other's eye and we were somehow "together".

We still have not jumped in puddles.  Every so often she would send me a text that would read, "we still have to jump in puddles together."   Sometimes I would respond because I tried to believe we really would.  Sometimes I would even speak this dream...I so wanted to believe it would happen for her...for us. 

This morning she walked into church supported by her walker, pale and weak.  I wept with my arms around her.  I find my grieving comes in waves.  I think my grieving started over a year ago...months before we even knew this monster disease was back.  But "something" beastly was eating away at my friend and I began losing her to pain and exhaustion and appointments, procedures and eventually treatment.  Grief holds much.  And slowly, incrementally, it opens, and you realize that "this too" has been taken away and so you acknowledge it and name it and grieve it, not always even knowing that this place of grief is filling again with something new for the next wave...

This morning my grief wave undid me.  I wept at different times throughout the morning as I sat beside my friend holding her hand.  At times, audible sobs escaped from my being and I thought, "to hell with trying to keep this inside...I love my friend and I will grieve this slipping away of her beautiful life!!! 

That sacred hour this morning was so rich...so drink-in-my-soul-rich.  I did not want to move an inch...even when my hand was going numb at one point. haha  I DIDN'T CARE!!  To watch her worship, to see her raise her weak hand in praise of our God...the time she gently clapped her hands together in celebration of Jesus...rich.  I held a -side-by-side seat of a woman whose faith is spilling forth from her dying body.  Is this not the deepest-living- for- Jesus!!!

We also "jumped in puddles" this morning.  At least I felt, in a manner of speaking, we did this.  She's on heavy pain meds which cause hallucinations and she was experiencing this throughout the service.  Honestly, it made us quietly giggle. One time she held out her hands and looked at her husband and then whispered to him asking if she was supposed to be feeding a baby.  He smiled at her and whispered "No".   We pressed our foreheads together and laughed quietly.  (It was church after all!!)  I think it was our version of puddle jumping...being little girls giggling in church. 

We're not going to be able to splash in puddles, enjoying side-splitting laughter with all of our cares thrown aside.  I know this...I grieve this.  But this morning was for me, this beautiful gift tied up with a bright red-like-rain-boots-bow. 

Who knows, maybe Jesus will give us each a pair of red rain boots when we arrive in heaven and take us to a gigantic puddle...just for us.

The Miles Between Us

Written Monday July 16 2018

I thought it would be routine this time around.  It's just shy of three years since she moved cross country and I felt SURE we were mastering this "together", then "apart" seesaw.  But this time has felt new for me again.  The week before she arrived I fought this overwhelming fear of our goodbye.  Yes I know it's absurd!  The cart-before-the-horse-scenario-but like I said--I was fighting it. 

We both share the same love of the anticipation.  We know the time will seem fleeting and so we rather enjoy the count down of sleeps and excitement which precedes the homecoming.  In the past there has often been this inner frenzy to then suck the marrow of life out of every moment.  I was more at peace this time, allowing the moments to unfold as they did.  I think it helped that I had spent five gloriously selfish days alone with my girl in May and so I was more free to share her with her besties. 

There are some given, shared factors to this" together" and "apart" dance which we live.

1.  It will never be long enough.  Whether it's three weeks or ten days, we will always want "just one more day."

2.  The everyday stresses of life are always blown out of proportion.  Because our time is limited it feels so out of place to have something go wrong.  Even hormones, computer glitches and line-ups.

3.  The length of homecoming hugs and farewell hugs are the same.  Even the depth of emotion is equal.  Yet they are polar opposites without words to describe.

4.  We always overthink everything.  Always.  Everything.  We over analyze, overthink, over-feel, and talk about it all in one gloriously long 10 day run-on sentence.  It's exhausting and freeing and crazy and us.

**Her plane landed safely in her other home city six hours ago.  She was sad to leave and excited to return.  I've laundered the sheets and tidied her room and though I will have other guests before Christmas, it really is awaiting her next homecoming.

Thursday October 4, 2018

Tomorrow marks the start of Thanksgiving Weekend.  I'm eager to spend time with Cam and Sonya and Brian's family.  We haven't seen Cam and Sonya for a few weeks and so I am missing our face to face conversations and hugs.  I love just having them in the room, listening to them interact with others.  Though this is the third Thanksgiving Ashley won't be home it almost feels like the first.  Why is it that this year is upping the ante on missing my girl???  One half of my heart says "she should be home".  And the other half is still fully convinced that "she shouldn't be"! 

A part of me wonders if the landing of her first "big girl job" this past spring is settling into my psyche.  Because SHE is settling in more and more to a home across the country.  Another factor may be that about a year ago she starting talking more and more about returning "home".  And though I wasn't getting my hopes up, it was something I listened to her talk about often.  Until about four months ago when everything changed.  Quite honestly, I'm celebrating the "everything changed" nature of her life.  There is so much good which has unfolded for her.   Except that now I think I've returned to a stronger reality of this ongoing "together" and "apart" dance. 

So Thanksgiving is almost here and we will be in the part of the dance that is "apart."  And yes, I'm sad.  Sad that we can't be together as a family...sad that she and I can't be together and just lounge on the sofa and talk...face to face. 

But this is our reality.  This is our "now."  It might not be our "always" but is is our "now."

I will miss her this weekend.  I will miss a full-on-hug that squishes us both.  I will miss her perfectly prepared bedroom being messy in less than 30 minutes.  I will miss her using the counter as the drop zone for her keys and purse and phone. I will miss her offering to get her own breakfast but being not -so-secretly-delighted that her Mama wants to.  I will miss her lounging in bed with her hair up in a pony asking for just "five more minutes" til she crawls out from the covers and I get another hug. I will just plain miss her.

She will miss me too...she will miss family and everyone being together.  She really misses family, especially at "family" times.  We will text and talk on the phone and hopefully Skype because we are blessed by this part of technology.  I will move through the weekend one day at a time, enjoying moments, and missing ones that aren't being shared.  And then before I know it, Thanksgiving will be a memory and I will have come through still intact, soon to begin the Christmas homecoming countdown.

Because this is how I walk the miles between us.

Dear Fall

Welcome dear fall

You glow with the harvest of spring’s planting

You let me linger a little longer in summer’s heat

yet link me to winter’s edge

with a sweater on my shoulders

I feast on earth’s bounty

experience the fresh breath of beginnings

indulge in the blazing colors of autumn’s landscape

You are a cherished season

until I slip into the next

For all of you,

spring, summer, fall and winter

capture a beauty all your own

Today it’s you

dear autumn

I welcome you.

Saturate me with your goodness

as I dance with gratitude

in your splendor.

August 31/14

A Glimpse of God

From July 29, 1998

"I caught a glimpse of God this evening.
Watched enthralled
as He created a sunset in all of its glory and splendor.
Mountains of white cottony clouds
parted,
as if on cue,
making way for brilliant rays of sun.
Colors, light and textures seemingly working together
in this captivating drama unfolding before my eyes.
When I was sure its beauty had reached a climax,
the scene altered yet again to reveal a script of
near endless glory.
'There is no God!!??'
Such irony...
I had front row seating in His audience tonight."

Never Wasted

From an old journal--February 8, 1997

Her big brown eyes beckon me
Her sweet tiny voice pleads with me,
"Mommy read...book...lap."
My to-do list is endless
I don't have time for this, I think.
But how can I refuse her?
And so we sit down on the couch,
her petite frame nestled into my lap
and we read...

Daily I hear another voice,
gently, persistently, calling me...
"Child of Mine...read...
read My Book...
Come sit with Me for awhile."
My to-do list is still incomplete,
but how can I refuse Him;
He's my Father.
And so I pick up His book,
sit at His feet
and read
of the One who loves me, cares for me
and spurs me on through the dailyness
of my life.
It's time never wasted.

Holy Matrimony

Holy Matrimony.  It's what comes to mind as my son and daughter-in-law celebrate their 6th wedding anniversary.

Funk & Wagnall's Standard College Dictionary defines Holy various ways --"completely devoted to the service of God...designated or set apart for religious worship or observance..."

Jack Wellman explains Matrimony in these words--"The word itself is from the Old French word “matremoine” which comes directly from the Latin word “matrimonium” and means “wedlock” or “marriage.” It has the idea of being locked together on a permanent basis..."

When I think of Cam and Sonya I overwhelmingly think of two people "locked together" and within that wedlock, springs forth a wholly setting themselves apart for the worship of God. This is not a Mama boasting, it's simply what I see.

I watch how they love each other, care for, and serve one another.  I watch how they intertwine so many part of their lives.  I observe their careful respect for the other and the ways in which they live out honor.  I am captivated not only by their oneness and the giving of themselves to each other in this oneness but also by their individuality and how they call forth the strength and creativity of the other...and bless it.  Such richness.  And I suppose if this was where Holy Matrimony was contained; within the union of this man and woman, then this in itself would be a testimony.  But their wedlock is indeed holy as I watch them drench others by their oneness.  I marvel at the ways in which they partner to worship God.  Every part of their lives is an act of worship.  And if it means taking in someone in crisis until the right care is available, they open their arms in welcome.  If it means getting involved in a messy situation, they pull up their sleeves and walk in.  If it means setting aside and  hosting a weekend in their home to read the Torah, they send out invitations.

It was almost seven years ago that they met and I knew very early on that their relationship would pull out all the stops on uniqueness.  I've watched them grow and learn not only about themselves as a couple but about what it means to live a life of worship as a couple.  It's breathtakingly beautiful.  Truly.

And so today, on their their sixth wedding anniversary, I pray a blessing of these two loves of mine--

Dearest Cam and Sonya

May your deep love for one another 

grow ever deeper in ways you can't imagine

May you continue to take great care in welcoming Jesus

to shelter your union

May He be your constant Guide

in your life of worship

And may the beauty of this Holy Matrimony He designed

be a brilliant light in a dark world.

Amen

Joyous Blessings,

Love, Mom