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I am exhausted. It’s the strangest thing. Part of it is due to my sinuses declaring mutiny in response to the wild temperature changes and the resultant medicine-coma I’m in most nights, the rest of it? I don’t know, I’m just wiped out.
And I’m feeling hopeless about my house right now — not really, scary kind of hopeless, mind you, just frustrated that there are areas I feel nearly incapable of conquering. I’m not incapable, and I know that. But I sure am TIRED.
With my other two, 5 months felt like I was on steroids — I was energetic and “glowing” (whatever that means) and nothing could stop me. With this one, stopping doesn’t take much considering I barely get a good start in the first place.
First I think I need new sinus meds. Surely it will help to not be “under the influence.” From there? Yeah, I don’t know. LORD, give me wisdom to know how to help my own body do what You’ve designed it to do.
And ya’ll pray He’ll send someone who can move the boxes to the attic.
I am totally stealing from an EXCELLENT song. Brandon Heath is an amazing artist, and I LOVE “Give me Your eyes” and the powerfully sweet conviction it delivers each time I listen to it. If you’ve never heard it, you NEED to give it a listen RIGHT NOW!
But today, I’m struggling in a totally different direction.
Looked out from the bathroom lights
Squinting over to see the trial
One kid with a wilted balloon
One holding my best nail file
Hold on for the screaming, “STOP!”
Feel guilty for causing shock
It’s like confusion and chaos
All my children running here and there
Surely God, You must care
Give me Your eyes for just one second
Give me Your eyes so I can see
Everything that lies beyond
The tumbling mountain of laundry
Give me Your heart for ones who wear it
The ones that I also get to teach
Around a table covered in dishes
Remnants of pancakes covered in peach
Yeah… Yeah… Out the door… we go
Drive out on the busy street
In the rearview, our eyes meet
“Touch him again with that,
You might just loose your teeth.”
See the boy just to her right
Holding something ‘neath his thigh
Guilty eyes with a cheesy smile
She got revenge
I’m going to do them in
All my dark hair, going somewhere
Lord, please teach me not to care
Give me Your eyes for just one second
Give me Your eyes so I can see
Every moment that I’m given
Can lead them to You and Eternity
Give me an attitude of Your grace
One that listens as You teach
Make me the mother You created
Them to have and me to be.
Yeah… yeah…
Been here a million times
A couple of million sighs
Just serve to remind
That Mommies can be in the wrong
But giving a second glance,
I want a second chance
To love them the way You have all along.
Give me Your eyes for just one second,
Give me Your eyes so I can see
All the beauty of creation
In little faces looking back at me
To give them Your love when they’re brokenhearted
One day send them out where I can’t reach
Give me Your heart for these ones I’m given
Give me Your eyes so I can see
Yeah… yeah… yeah…
God showed up in a very real way today.
Spoke so clearly, everything in my biorhythms shifted. It wasn’t during worship, it wasn’t during lifegroup, it was in the truck on the way to the church. We were late. I had nursery. I was experiencing one of those delightful waves of frustrating tears — though, admittedly, these tears DID have some legitimate backing. Some. Not a lot. Just some old flesh lying around, you know.
Oh, and I was sort of tired. See, I woke up before 6am to go to the bathroom (ah, the joys of pregnancy) and when I laid back down, my mind thought it was 10am at the UN Council on Foreign Affairs. Intense images of the things we’ve seen in the past month, considerations of all we would need and all we wouldn’t when we move, numbers crunching about in my head over how many months we might have left here — or might not, how the children were handling the imminent changes, how the *new* child would add to the mix and the move, on and on and on…. Blech.
After tossing about for 40 minutes, I had another disturbing revelation that I’d forgotten to do THE load of laundry with LittleMan’s Sunday pants in it (we’d broken rank and used them on Thursday) so I got up and tromped — quietly, but it was tromping nonetheless — downstairs to the laundry room. On my way back up, I grabbed my Bible and plomped into the chair.
Then I mentally regressed back to 7th grade Sunday School.
“LORD, I know how immature this is, but I’m just going to read WHATEVER it opens to. I just need SOMETHING and I don’t want to dig. I’m so sorry.”
And the pages landed on Isaiah 40.
The first verse to grab my attention was “The grass withers and the flower fades, but the Word of our God stands forever.” Aahh… I needed that. He *is* eternal.
And as I began reading through the chapter, phrases kept leaping into giant text in my brain as my eyes tried to take it all in “Speak to My people… tell them…the glory of the LORD will be revealed… and all mankind will see it…a voice says, ‘Cry out,’ And I said, ‘What shall I cry?’… you who bring good tidings… say, ‘Here is your God!’…See? the Sovereign LORD comes in power…He tends His flock like a shepherd…He gently lead those that have young….“
And on and on and on, His Word in that one chapter spoke volumes over my despair. If He’s sending… if we are going… let me “introduce” them to their God… He is gently leading me as His daughter — and a Mommy…
I also landed in Psalm 2, you know, the one we’re living through today where international leaders are trying to “break the chains” they feel God somehow imposes upon them; trying to get rid of Him as though He were an option. LORD, let me serve you with fear and trembling.
There was, after those chapters, a wash of peace and I went back to bed for a bit (hence our late to church). Once awake, I was in crisis mode, moving Sunday pants and a big dry towel into the dryer, moving two moderately willing participants into showers and hair prep, moving “normal” clothes aside to don an adorable preggo outfit my dear friend let me borrow, moving everyone — and everything — out to the truck as quickly as possible without use of a cattle prod.
So, about half way there, it hits me again that we could very well be in the final months of living in Georgia. At least for now. And so the tears welled up and threatened my impecably Lauder-clad lashes. My mouth was quivering and I was doing my best to look INTENSELY interested in the scenery out my window (that I see at least 3-5 times a week).
Oh, and Parachute Band’s song “Surrender All” came on in perfect time for my mental and hormonal breakdown. Because if I am honest, the issue is very spiritual in nature and my mind and hormones were simply enjoying a good opportunity for creative expression. (We interrupt this blog to say that if you have not, for some unknown reason, discovered Parachute Band, you need to. Right now. These guys are intense worshipers who invite you to the Throne, prostrate in praise. And they’re the Real Deal; ministers with voices AND hands, these guys put skin on “Christianity” Check ‘em out).
In the midst of my tears — accompanied by fitting background vocals — I heard Him.
If this is My plan, is there any stopping it?
No, Sir, there’s not.
Did you pitch a fit coming to Georgia 7 years ago?
Oh, yes, Sir, I did. It was bad.
Did I bless your move? Are you glad you’re here?
Yes, Lord, You did. You continue to, and I am SO glad we are here.
So is it then possible that all the stress and worrying and fear and tears you spent before you moved to Georgia was useless and I was there when you got there and you had nothing to worry about?
Yes, sir. It definitely would have saved a lot of heartache.
Is it possible that if Alaska is where I’m calling you, there’s no need to be worried about it either?
Oh, LORD, yes. You’re right, there’s no need for worry. Please forgive me. I love you, Jesus.
And the wash of peace — again. There’s just nothing to worry about — nothing. LORD, please help me remember.
So this is me, stoppin’ my fit pitchin’. As best I can, I’m laying it down. And in the places I can’t, He’s gently leading me. And He grants sleep to those He loves, doesn’t He? Oh, my LORD is so sweet….
Amen, Jesus, Amen.
TV and movies depict pregnancy hormones as scary monster-making emotions that leave bystanders at the beck and call of the mom-to-be. This has NOT been the case with mine. Yes, there have been “step-away-from-me-if-you-value-your-head” moments, but more often — and right now, oh joy — I just feel teary. I just want to cry. Some of it is for very good want to cry reasons (friends who are hurting, my incredible screw ups as of late, sympathy for my LittleMan who got hurt earlier).
But a lot of it is for crappy cry reasons.
The moon is out. I finally finished the dishes. My husband and kids are downstairs playing the wii. I need to paint my toenails. Tomorrow is Monday (ok, so that *might* be a good reason).
Anyway, I can hardly wait to find out who this little person is that’s growing inside me. He or she and I will have some laughs later in life about the fabulous roller coaster of fatigue and ridiculousness their anticipated arrival produced.
Until then, I’m keeping rolls of toilet paper handy (I am too cheap to buy tissues in the box; don’t ask) and just rolling with the estrogen-tide.
And now I’m done…sniff, sniff.
During our recent “excursion” abroad, we not only got to worship with AMAZING people at Hillsong Church, I got to catch up with one of my former students (JR) who left Georgia to attend Hillsong University. It was a HUGE blessing!
JR had volunteered to help all day before the concert, so we didn’t get a chance to talk until the music started. During the first half, he and I stood backstage and talked about all God is doing with him, his education, and his ministry. He returned to his duties during intermission, and during the second half, we were both on the monitor world side of the stage. I sat with the other spouses and just listened; I mainly watched the crowd, overwhelmed by the sound of so many people from so far from my home worshiping to songs I’d heard as “simple” worship songs for years before God decided they should be on a cd. I could clearly see faces in the front rows and specifically watched three boys on our side of the first row as they were obviously moved to worship and to tears by God’s love throughout the music.
Then “East to West” began.
A few months ago, while we were preparing and planning for our trip to Alaska, God hit me with the realization that I have a *whole new* understanding of part of the song:
“…I can’t bear to see the man I’ve been
come rising up in me again…”
In the midst of incredibly intense all day morning sickness, I caught a nasty stomach virus. I knew “rising up in me” all too well. And it made me wonder if I’d ever shuddered over my sin the way I shuddered with those nauseous waves; had I ever fought my pride away with tears the way I fought the surges in my stomach?
The answer was an unfortunate no, I hadn’t.
Despite that very profound analogy, I struggled with near spiritual paralysis (read as, total self-absorbtion) all the way up to our Alaska adventure. It was like being spiritually paralyzed; I couldn’t pray, I couldn’t seem to “get into” the Word, I often didn’t pick up the Word. I was completely dry. Powerless. It was torture. And I heard God whisper one night while I choked through a prayer, “I’m still here.” It was the sweetest, most undeserved blessing I’d recieved.
Until “East to West” at Hillsong.
Hearing the words I’d heard over and over, I prayed, meditated on His Truth, and thought about the “dark night of the soul” I felt was finally beginning to dawn. And then I looked over at the crowd.
And I saw JR. Praying over one of those boys in the front row.
The entire crowd was sitting but these two and one of the boys next to them. Everyone else is glued to the screens and the stage as the boys’ hands are in the air and JR stands with one arm around the boy’s shoulder and one on his head; the boy is sobbing, his friend is praying with eyes closed and arms raised then sits down, and JR continues to pray. The boy collapses in heaves on JR’s shoulder and JR embraces him, still obviously praying.
Eternity bounded forward as JR loved this boy to the Throne. After a hug, JR returned to his post and the boy, wiping eyes with his palms and shirt, sat down and sighed.
As I watched the scene unfold, I was blown away. To see a student whose life I had a little voice in DOING the work of the ministry — unprompted, without reserve, without regard to anyone else — it was humbling and breathtaking and indescribably sweet. And as the tears began to fall, I heard the LORD
“I’m still moving.”
And I fell completely apart.
Sobbing with my head in my hands because I had given up on being used. Sobbing because He had already pointed out this winter how very comfortable I have become where we are. Sobbing because the whole truth was that I was holding back from Him because I know of what He is capable and it scares me. Sobbing because His love is as strong as His will, and I had run from that, too.
While I intermittently watched JR minister to the boys, my shoulders shook with grief over my sin and I could feel my eyes and nose puff up. And I suddenly had a whole new understanding for the sobbing woman in Luke 7 –
She brought her entire life’s wealth, annointed Jesus’ feet, and cried only to wipe her tears with her own hair. Suddenly, I understood her; she didn’t hear their barbs, she didn’t mean to fall apart over Him, she meant to bring Him her very best — only to realize she no real best to give Him. And in that grief, she cried, giving Him her mess, and in panic, she pulled her hair — which would have been wrapped under her headpiece — around to wipe up the mess she’d made. She kissed His feet as she sobbed, wiping away the stain of her tears, her unworthy offering, her sinful mouth, her life.
And after the grand Pharisitical discussion, Jesus said to her, “Your sins are forgiven.”
Can you imagine how sweet????????????
And for an instant during the concert, I could imagine. I could “see” His feet before me as I knelt, knew I was bringing everything I had and everything I am and everything I’m so very not and finding myself overwhelmed and unable to look up at Him in the face for fear He’d know who I *truly* was only to discover that’s who He wanted to be with in the first place. Oh my word! The humbling love of Jesus! It was unbelievable! And as I cried and *heard Him* for what seemed like the first time in ages (because I hadn’t been listening while He’d been speaking), I *knew* that there is NOTHING good in me, but that somehow, IT DOES NOT MATTER! Because He loves me anyway! He’s going to use me anyway! He’s going to accomplish His purposes in my life not in spite of my weaknesses, fears, and failures, but by working His strength through them, pulling beauty from the ashes and giving gladness for mourning!
PRAISE HIS NAME!!!!!!!
Even now, I am humbled to tears. The God of All Creation sees value in me. And I didn’t have to “put” it there; there is no “earning” in His economy. He loves me because I am His own. What He sees in me, I will never know, but it is of no matter, because I am HIS!
I long to write a monologue for the Luke 7 lady; it is really burning on my heart to put words to the “revelation” moment God gave me of seeing through her eyes — through her tears and her hair and her mess. He spoke life and acceptance and healing and deliverance and FORGIVENESS into the life of “a woman who had lived a sinful life in that town.” That had been her reputation — everyone in town knew her, knew her history, knew her sin. And within moments, Jesus took everything she and everyone else knew and gave it meaning; His parting words to her were, “Your faith has saved you; go in peace.” She got saved — literally! And she knew it! (and I want to know definitely, but I think she’s the first one in Scripture to whom Jesus said “Your faith has saved you….”)
Meaning from the mess. What a gift He is!!!!!!!
Lord Jesus, You are — YOU ARE! And that is enough but it’s not where You stopped. And yes, LORD, You are still moving, and it is a privilege to see and hear and especially be a part of. THANK YOU for Your love! Thank You for the privilege of walking with friends in ministry, for seeing the newest generation of ministry arise, for the challenge of raising Kingdom children to be a part of what You’re doing around the world today.
I can never deserve, You, O LORD, but You already know that. Have my alabaster box — it looks pitiful next to all You are — and my mess as well. I love You, Jesus. You are Everything.
Amen.
Homeschooling today made me want to scream “NO WIRE HANGERS!” and enroll them in the big brick behemoth down the street.
I’m just saying.
Thank You, LORD, Your mercies are new every morning.
Darren and LittleMan are in Nashville tonight, so we called at dinner time to see how their exciting day of work had been. LittleMan answered the phone and gave me the day’s highlights. LittleBit was sitting in the chair next to me looking anxious, so I asked LittleMan if he’d like to talk to her; “SURE!” Handing over the phone, my two grown ups began a 20 minute recap of the day’s activities and tomorrow morning’s plans.
And then I heard it –
“Wait, can I just talk to you a little longer? Because I miss you.”
So the kid-versation lasted another 15 minutes until I finally asked for the phone back so I could talk to Darren and finish dinner. It was bittersweet; both my children were sad to say goodbye to each other, and I got this tiny glimpse into what the future could look like for these two as siblings who are dear friends. It was such a gift and will inevitibly become a story we smile over for years to come.
Folks, I have long been skeptical of the roots of the new “Green Agenda” — I am ALL FOR recycling, responsible and respectful land use, and reducing carbon emissions. HOWEVER, this article strikes at the frightening core I have feared from this new global initiative.
Check it out. Let me know what you think. Share it with others. Dialogue is needed if part of our new concern for the planet will include killing unborn children.
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