Happy Mother's Day...to Me!!!!!!

What a lovely, relaxing Mother's Day.   I relaxed the entire afternoon, reading and lounging about.  It felt strange as my family scurried around the kitchen preparing supper.  I requested fingerling potatoes which my son is so deftly turning(while he elbow's his sister).

My hubby barbecued delicious chicken, and was clearly the organizer of this entire "event".  Thanks my sweetheart. 

Ashley was pro at setting the table...oh, and she would of course want me to add that she helped with the beans!!!!

Beautiful cards and much love was showered on me by my hubby and children.

We are quite the crew!  I love them to pieces, and value these times of fun and togetherness.  My son already asked me at supper to run an errand for him tomorrow.  I guess that means I'm back on "duty" at the crack of dawn.  That's ok.  I don't mind.  I quite enjoy serving my family.  It's one of my callings in life....this domestic engineering job.  And judging from the cards I received, my "reviews" are way up there!!

Thanks for a wonderful day...I love you all!!

I Have Arrived

I have experienced a growing sense of unrest in my spirit this week.  I know why, it's not as though it's some phantom lurking in the recesses of my mind.  In truth, I'm not sure which is worse...to know why I am feeling this increasing uneasiness, or to be searching for the reason behind it.

Because I really don't want "it" here.  This awareness of a place in my heart that needs to grow is hard for me to face.  I've been here before, and I don't like it.  It's going to involve struggle, soul-searching, exposing my vulnerability. Honestly, I've been tempted to turn and high tail it out of here.  I'm just tired.  Tired of yet another piece of me that is damaged, defective, sinful.  I'm tired of never seeming to "pull it all together".

I sat alone in the pew at church this morning.  Alone with God.  I closed my eyes to talk with Him, and to send a message to anyone nearby..."please don't talk with me now."  The service had not yet started, but my my heart was so ready to hear His voice.  I needed for Him to talk with me, to somehow calm the building turmoil within.

I find it so beautiful how God just swoops in so quickly, yet so quietly.  Conversation and movement all around me, but within me, His Spirit has just penetrated the churning mass of thoughts.  He did so by reminding me of some poignant words from my Spiritual Director.  She had  spoken them to me several months ago, during a conversation in which I had expressed my angst over always having some area of my heart needing reconstruction.  I had lamented to her, "I feel like I will never arrive."  Her response caught my heart.

"I think of arriving as being in relationship with Jesus."

And in the pew this morning, the Spirit brought  those words right back.  I have arrived!!!  Oh maybe not from a human perspective, but from a spiritual perspective...from Jesus' perspective...I have arrived.  There is nothing I can add to my relationship with Him.  Colossians 2:10 breathes these life-giving words...."In Him you have been made complete."  And in John 8:36 Jesus Himself offers this promise..."If therefore the Son shall make you free, you shall be free indeed."

I don't know what lies ahead of me.  I don't know what tearing down and rebuilding will be required.  I don't know how long the process will take or what will be required of me to cooperate with Him.  But I do know, that being in relationship with Jesus, means that I am complete.  I do know that regardless of this restlessness of spirit, I am free, in the deepest sense possible.  And I do know that despite journeying down yet another road, towards Christ-likeness... in the purest, fullest, wildest way possible, "I have arrived."

Remembering my Mother June 20, 1940 -April 24, 1970

Today, April 24, 2010 marks 40 years since my mother's tragic death.  I use the word tragic, because it still is.  Even though healing has come and my life has flourished.  Even though I can gaze at pictures and smile instead of cry.  Even though "inherited" memories bring a sense of peace and not sorrow.  Even though remembrances of her own brief life grace my home but do not grieve my spirit.  Even though God has indeed fulfilled Romans 8:28 and brought a rich goodness into my life...April 24, 1970 was a day of tragedy, unfairness and deep sorrow.

My mother was, in a moment, ripped from this world...my world.  I have spent 40 years wandering, groping, fighting, grieving, and eventually releasing the heart breaking mystery of her untimely death.  I have moved forward through the journey of sorrow.  I have not moved on.  Moving on would signify a desire to forget, to ignore the impact of her life on mine, to pretend that she does not occupy a sacred place in my heart.

Because she does.  Instead, I have moved forward through the mystery, without it ever being solved.  I have moved onward through the pain that at one time overwhelmed my being.  I have moved forward, not because I wanted to, but because I needed to.  So that I could, in the fullest way possible, be a devoted mother to my own children.  To continue in her footsteps of devotion to me, despite their brevity.

It's not supposed to be like this.  Drunk drivers are not supposed to get behind the wheel of a car...ever.  Mothers are not supposed to die before their 30th birthday.  Little girls are not supposed to touch their mother for the last time...in a casket.  But this side of Eden, there are lots of "not supposed to".  And if you don't have at least one,  you will.  Until our lives on this earth are fully redeemed, we will live with "not supposed to".

 Throughout the years, I have marked this day in various ways.  This year,as April 24th loomed on the calender, I began to ponder what I might do that was unique to where I am on this journey.  And it came to me.  I'm going to be a mother to my kids.  I'm going to kiss them and hug them when they wake up, wash their breakfast dishes, and hear their plans for the day.  I'm going to send them off to their scheduled events with my prayers and more hugs and kisses.  And they when they return home, I will be here... to listen, to laugh with them, to comfort them, to be there for them, in whatever it is that they need.

And I'm going to be a wife, and enjoy my husband and the beautiful life we share together.  I will hold hands with him as we go to the luncheon we have been invited to.  I will sit close, and watch him interact with people, knowing that out of all the people in the world, he picked me!  And at the close of the day, I will crawl into bed beside him, grateful for the shelter he provides for me.

I'm going to spend time with friends...some who are living their all-too-fresh-"not supposed to".  I will sit with God in the quiet of the day and give thanks that the Eternal Comforter has indeed covered me through seemingly endless sorrow.  

Today, I'm going to "live" this life that God has given me to live.  For reasons beyond my understanding, my mother's living was cut painfully short.  But I am still living mine.  And I want to live it fully, purposefully, richly.

 Remembering you Mom...with all my love...your daughter, Juanita

Extra Time

On mornings when I go for my workout, my son is usually still in bed...one of the benefits of having a spare first period.  It works out perfectly, because by the time I get home he is soon to head out the door for school.  I still get to say "Good morning"...pray with him and give him a hug and a kiss before he mounts his bike and is off for the day.

This past Monday morning, I was home in time for the above routine, and then walked into the house to get something he had forgotten.  My mouth fell open I am sure.  The dish tray which had been full when I left earlier, was EMPTY!  Not only empty, but it had been put away even!  I quickly looked to the table...all the breakfast items had been cleared off and put away...his breakfast dishes nowhere to be seen.  I went running out the door and said, "Cameron!!!!  You did the dishes for me!!!!  That means sooo much to me...Thankyou!!  His response?  "Well, I had some extra time."

Now, I'm not sure about you, but I don't know too many 17 year old boys, who, upon having extra time on their hands, opt to do the dishes for their Mom.  Lest I give the impression that this is completely out of the realm of impossible for my son to do something like this...it's not.  But let's face it...it's not exactly the norm.

Furthermore, there is some added information that seems pertinent here.  Cam's vocabulary has not had the words extra time, in it for weeks now.
1.  He is in his last year of high school and striving for University level marks
2.  He is the pianist for his school's musical "Footloose" being performed this week, and has had a truckload of piano practicing and rehearsals.
3. He also has his weekly piano lessons, youth, his job, etc.

What I'm trying to say is...his life has been insane these past few weeks, and it just blew me away, that he would think of me, and help me out, in his extra time!!!!

Yep, he's a keeper, alright.!  I still find myself thinking throughout my day about his gesture of kindness.  Inside, I just sort of sigh, and enjoy the moment all over again.

Oh...and the following morning, he grabbed a tea towel again, and started drying the dishes as I washed.  I called to my husband in a panicky tone, "Honey, I feel faint!"  He looked at me with great concern, and then saw the tea towel in our son's hand....and laughed.

"Cam", I said, "you're growing up."  To which he replied, "Yes I am."

I think I could get used to this  :)

Happy Birthday Sweetheart

My hubby is 53 today.  The other day he commented, "I'm old".  But my response was, "You're not old...you're seasoned."  :) 
That would be an understatement.  Brian has lived a rather adventurous life thus far...some of it as a result of choice, and some of it completely beyond his control, but clearly not out of God's realm.  
The kids and I are extremely grateful to celebrate an awesome Dad, and an amazing husband.
We had a  thoroughly enjoyable celebration together as a family...with absolutely NO sibling rivalry!!!  It's true!!!

Happy Birthday Sweetheart...I love that you're mine!  Juanita

Intimately Acquainted

A month ago I began reading "A Year With God"--Living Out the Spiritual Disciplines, edited by Richard J. Foster and Julia L. Roller.  I had been searching for a devotional book to assist me in my quiet moments with God.  I tend to lean towards having some type of guide to lead and challenge me in my quest to know Him.

The timing of this book has been wonderfully  purposeful.  My first twenty-five days I spent in the Spiritual Practice of Looking for God and Learning from Jesus.  During this time I was faced with a situation which required a response from me.  I know that what I was studying with God, drew me deeper into Him, and compelled me to convey my heart in a more Christ-like fashion.

Today, I began the Spiritual Practice of Simple Prayer.  Remarkably, this evening had been set aside for my husband and I to meet with some friends to pray!  We are deeply burdened for a friend, and one of our foursome challenged us to a more concerted prayer time.  It was beautiful to hear and express, heartfelt, earnest prayers on behalf of someone we love.

And what I'm struck with is... He knew!  God knew that this particular book would provide direction and challenge and encouragement in the unfoldings of my life and those around me.  It shouldn't surprise me.  Psalm 139:3b expresses what David knows to be true... "You are intimately acquainted with all my ways."  Now I suppose to some that might be unnerving.  God knows everything I do??!!!  Yikes!!  But for me, these words have always been comforting.  I relish God's intimate knowing of me and what is transpiring in my life. Truly, I desire God to be this intimate, this creative, this involved. 

I know that there are countless times that I miss the ways in which He is expressing His intimacy towards me.  But recently, my eyes are wide open.

I'm so in awe of Him.

WWJD??

It was a commonly used phrase by Christians several years ago...primarily the youth population.  It could be found engraved on just about anything it seemed...bracelets, necklaces, bookmarks... or scrolled across t-shirts and posters.  WWJD would easily tumble out of mouths, searching for a response of some sort.

WWJD..."what would Jesus do"?

I've been asking myself this question most of the week.  Or more aptly, I've been asking Jesus..."just what would YOU do?"

I've been aware for some time, of a relational situation that brings much grief to my spirit.  The reality of it has been somewhat of a simmering stew in my being.  But recently a further dynamic came into play and stirred up the pot bigtime.  Very quickly, that which had been simmering, came to the surface.   I was convinced that my response was right and good and necessary. 

Or was it?

The familiar phrase "what would Jesus do"? began to run through my mind on a regular basis.  I began to pray and read God's Word...specifically the gospels which reveal so much about Jesus and the way He interacted and responded to people.  I saw this God-man relate gently to some, and sternly with others.  His compassion was deep, for suffering people.  His words were harsh for anyone who pointed a finger. He had a soft spot for all who seemed to be "lost", but challenged those who thought they had the monopoly on life.  One thing was clear:  He was all about people and meeting their deepest need...a relationship with Him.  Sometimes He expressed Himself succintly; there was no question about what He had said.  Other times, I found Him to be obscure, or seemingly stop short of revealing the full meaning.

It's been almost a week since WWJD has been imprinted on my spirit.  And truthfully, I haven't come to a conclusive answer. The waters are still muddied.  But I know the Spirit is roaming all over my heart.   I am  moving deeper into Him, and farther away from me.  Whenever this happens, and I'm thankful it does,  I know one thing for sure...it is good and right and necessary.  It compels me to continue praying and reading, seeking to discern the heart of Jesus. 

Ultimately, this is what Jesus would long for me do. 

Earthquake

I can remember where I was when my husband came to tell me of the earthquake in Haiti.  It was the morning of January 13, 2010, and I was getting ready for my day.  The earthquake had hit late afternoon the day before, and the first reports were splashed across the front of the newspaper.  We knew it was bad, but within hours, bad moved to devastating to unfathomable, horrendous tragedy.

And I could hear the question again, "Are you willing to be disturbed?"  I didn't have to think about it this time, it was just so obvious for me. I would allow myself to be disturbed...deeply.

In those first hours, I had no way of knowing that I was going to be hit with my own earthquake.  That mentally, emotionally and spiritually I was going to be turned upside down, crushed, scrambling for some level of stability.  Yes, Haiti had indirectly been a part of my life.  My husband had been there once and my son, twice, helping to build a multi-purpose facility.  So I knew of places and people and poverty, but I had never been there...never lived their life, tasted their fear, succumbed to their hunger.  Suddenly, I was there, or they were here...in my backyard, or so it seemed.  And I COULDN'T ignore them...didn't want to.  Honestly, I didn't know what to do.

So I prayed.  Oh God, I prayed...deep laments in my spirit for a people struck once again by intense suffering, death and hopelessness.

And I questioned.  Everything.  Not about where God was when the earthquake hit or what He was going to do with this open grave, but questions about me.  Questions about what I was going to do.  Should we sell our cottage and send the money to Haiti?  What about our home and all that we have?  Most of my home is full of my "wants" not my "needs"!  How much do I REALLY need?  There are scriptural challenges to give all that we have to the poor.  Who does that apply to?  Is it me? What about my love for shopping?  How can I possibly purchase something for me, when I have so much already?  

I would walk into areas of my home where items were stored, and I felt sick.  How can I have stuff just sitting here when these people have nothing?!  I would walk into the grocery store and just want to take the entire building and ship it off to Haiti.

And then someone would remind me that we live HERE.  But that would only spurn more questions.  Why?  Why am I blessed to live here and they are destined to live THERE? Why, why, why, why?

It was a puzzle way beyond my ability to put together.  It still is.  For the most part, I am not in the frenzy I was, when those questions first began churning in my mind, but they are still there.  I am no closer to answers today, than several months ago.  I have made changes, and some of them are life-altering, but it's not enough.  At least that's how I feel.  When is enough...enough?  Is it ever enough?

I don't like questions.  I like answers.  But I'm learning to live with the questions, as Rainer Marie Rilke describes in "Letters to a Young Poet":

"Be patient toward all that is unsolved in your heart and try to love the questions themselves like locked rooms and like books that are written in a very foreign tongue.  Do not seek the answers, which cannot be given you because you would not be able to live them.  Live the questions now.  Perhaps you will then gradually, without noticing it, live along some distant day into the future."

So here I am...living the questions...one day at a time...searching the Trinity for how they want to lead me through the disturbances of my heart.  

A Part of Me

I'm not sure how wise this is...blogging at this hour.  But my mind is churning and so perhaps if I write it down, my thoughts will quiet.  I have finished reading my latest book, "Girl Meets God" by Lauren F. Winner. A very intriguing, informative read.  One year in the life of a young woman who has converted from Judaism to Christianity.  And although her story drew me in, it was her style of writing that has so captured me.

Honest, real, authentic.  In other words, when I read of her journey, I'm not left wondering what she's thinking.  It's all right there...laid bare, for all the world to see.  No mincing words, no sugar-coating.  If she's angry, it's red-hot, belching forth.  If she's struggling, her questions run the gamut, no holes bared.  When she is at peace, I am pining away, wanting to experience what it is she has found.  She is raw and beautiful and tragic and rich in her language and it moves me deeply.

Because I long to be that transparent.  To just say it like it is.  Leave nothing left unsaid.  All the questions, doubts, fears, opinions, thoughts and emotions that I so often keep within...open the dam and let them flow.  It sounds so freeing to me.

But it's not me.  Yes, I am authentic.  I can express deep parts of myself.  But it's all very guarded and thought out and careful.  And I know there's something to be said for this way of conversing.  There is wisdom in expressing myself this way.  God's Word is very clear about the beauty or pain caused by words.

What I don't understand is why I find myself longing for Lauren's way of speaking?  Why do I feel trapped by my caution?  Why can't I just relish her openness and still be grateful for my reserve?  Actually, why can't I be both?  ha,ha  Why can't I throw caution to the wind in a graceful way?  Seriously!

I don't know the answer.  And better yet, I'm not even going to try and figure it out tonight.  I'm just going to let it be.  And for someone who likes to tie all the loose ends together...connect the dots, maybe this is just a little bit of me stepping out.  Admitting the hollow places for what they are.

A  part of me.

"Your journey to the cross
     painstaking,
          purposeful,
               quiet
Your sacrifice for me
     complete,
          perfect,
               eternal
I am
     grateful,
          worship-filled
on my own journey
home to You"

Enough

"Why is it never enough?
I encourage and help and pray and give and sacrifice and...
it's never enough.
There is always someone who wants more...
needs more of me.
Jesus, You are enough. 
You were the ultimate, perfect sacrifice for me
and it was enough.
Today I leave behind my striving
to rest in You."
Dec. 21, 2001