In the Hand of God
In the Hand of God
November. There is something about you that frightens me...painful memories...sleepless nights...empty chairs at Thanksgiving...birthdays alone. But November, there hidden among the painful shadows are holy sacred places. For no matter how dark November can be...there is light that shines there whose beauty is beyond words. For within the walls of November lies my El Bethel.
My El Bethel, the place where God came, the place where He revealed Himself to me in a way He had never done before...my El Bethel, the God of the House of God, that belongs to November. That place...that holy most reverent of places, hallowed ground, sacred...that place bids me take off my shoes and bow.
The feeling you feel when you are so tired from the spiritual battle that you are in...when you absolutely have nothing else to give...when you are surrounded by darkness seemingly alone, staring Satan in the eye...when you are ready to quit...and then the wind changes and you literally smell the sweetness of His presence...when the only thing you know to do is to lay prostrate in the damp grass and cry because you are no longer alone in the battle for He now stands between you and the enemy.
There is an unparalleled beauty there in that place. Something so life altering that you know that you will never be the same. The place where He changed the very course of your future...where He forced demons to flee. The place where the darkness crawls away and peels back into the shadows leaving a gentle glow in its retreat. The place where the One who controls the winds and the waves reaches out His hand to pick you up off the ground. The place where He encourages you to follow as He continues to hold your tired injured hand within His that is nail-pierced. The place where you sit with Him in the quiet for hours as He hand-picks verses and opens them in the exposed crevices of your heart. There is a beauty that is only born in brokenness...a place where you come face to face with the God of the House of God...El Bethel.
Beauty in Darkness
“Therefore, behold, I will allure her, will bring her into the wilderness, and speak comfort to her.
I will give her her vineyards from there and the Valley of Achor as a door of hope;. She shall sing there, as in the days of her youth,
Hosea 2:14-15a NKJV
It's one of my favorite verses, and yet I know it's not really about my life....or is it? This verse was given to me at the most difficult time in my life. I had spent the entire day pleading with God for an answer....begging Him for direction...and He pointed me to Job and Hosea. I remember crying and asking Him if this was seriously the best He could do for me as I struggled to remember to breathe. I remember reading these two verses and thinking that surely God did not understand what it was that I needed to hear at that moment...but I was wrong. It was exactly what I needed to hear, for it was my personal promise from God.
The verse is really a reference to the time Israel spent wandering in the wilderness. The Valley of Achor is a reference to a place of tragedy for Israel with it being now promised as a door of hope. I didn't see it at first, but God would show me that it was about me...a promise of things to come.
Most people do not spend their days in areas that are wilderness. Most people don't really enjoy darkness. Most people are content to spend their days in sunny areas surrounded by people. For some the wilderness and darkness mean fear because of what you cannot see...the fear of the unknown. But there are things that you only can see in darkness. There are things that you miss in the light of the sun.
There is beauty in darkness that you can never see in the light. For example, stars are always above us, hovering in the canopy of the sky, but they are hidden by the brightness of the sun. Even at twilight most remain hidden. It is only in the darkness that the beauty of a star-filled sky can be enjoyed. The beauty of a star can only be seen against a background of darkness. Without the darkness one would miss the beauty of the stars.
God wanted to reveal Himself to me in the darkness. He wanted me to linger in the wilderness, not to grow accustomed to the darkness, but to better understand the beauty of lights stretched against its canopy. He wanted to meet with me there. He wanted to allure me...to draw me to Himself. He wanted to show me that He is all I need. He wanted to comfort me in my darkness, and show me that He is my light. He wanted me to trust that He could take a valley of pain and make it have purpose...to transform my Valley of Achor into a door of hope.
I've often thought what I would do if God offered to let me go back and never enter the Valley of Achor. What if He let me erase it from my memory...to never have allowed my feet to cross its threshold. My head shouts an enormous "yes", but my heart....my soul...well, they're not so sure. I remember nights that I just laid in the grass in the dark and cried. I remember nights when I bowed in the yard and sometimes lay prostrate on the retaining wall just pleading with God for peace. I remember nights of struggling to take my thoughts captive and fight to cling to Him although the winds of the storm threatened to tear me loose from His grasp. Why would anyone even consider going through that again?
Because there is hope that flows from Achor. There is a comfort and peace hidden in the darkness of the wilderness. There is a beauty in a star-strewn sky that you only see in the darkness of night. Those nights in the fetal position in the grass...those nights prostrate on the retaining wall....those hours of pleading with Him to put your heart back together because you couldn't find all the pieces. Each and every one of those nights in the wilderness....He was there. Each and every cry that went from the darkness...He heard. He stole my heart in the wilderness. He allured me to draw nearer to Him in a way I had never experienced. He spoke comfort to a broken heart. I learned that there is great fruit that comes from the wilderness...fruit that doesn't grow in mountain top vineyards. And the words He speaks in the wilderness...they are more beautiful than any ever spoken, for the comfort and peace that they bring is indescribable And suddenly you find yourself singing there in the valley....in the deepest darkest crevices of the wilderness you learn to sing. The song born in the wilderness cannot be sung by those who live on the tops of mountains, for they do not understand the words. The song born in the wilderness touches your heart in places it would never have been touched had it not been broken. There is beauty in brokenness...Truth in trial....Depth in darkness that you only find in the wilderness and I wouldn't trade my time there for anything....even if it cost everything.
A Talk With God...
I am so frustrated. Sometimes I look around me and I just want to scream. How does it get this messed up? I know that You are in control of it all, but sometimes it is so hard to believe it.
I am frustrated with a system that doesn't protect the children that it's supposed to protect. I am frustrated with parents who are so selfish that they neglect the children that they brought into this world because they focus only on themselves. I am frustrated with parents who allow drugs, alcohol, and sex to become more important than the little people that they have helped to create.
I am frustrated with people who hurt kids either physically, sexually, or mentally. I am frustrated that these people are given opportunity to harm these kids in irreparable ways and more often than not to get away with it. I am frustrated with a society that doesn't want to address the problem or even discuss it because it's uncomfortable.
I am frustrated with people who ruin other people's lives by the choices that they make. I am frustrated with spouses who selfishly destroy marriages and homes out of nothing less than selfishness. I am frustrated with people who turn to drugs and alcohol and out of desperation for their next fix end up hurting or stealing from others.
I am frustrated with my country and where we have gotten ourselves. I am frustrated that men and women gave their lives for a cause they believed in only for us to become a country that believes in nothing.
I am frustrated with the Church. I am frustrated that we have become distributors of judgment rather than givers of grace. I am frustrated that we spend more time trying to be like other Christians than we do trying to be like Christ. I am frustrated that we have been adopted into a family where grace abounds, and yet we don't want to extend that grace ourselves or make sure others have the opportunity to be adopted as well. I am frustrated that we have been loved with so great a love just as we were and yet we aren't willing to love people who don't look like us, dress like us, believe like us, or live like us. I am frustrated that we have come to view ourselves more holy than the Holy One. For He gave love regardless and yet our love comes draped with stipulations.
But God, there is something that frustrates me more than all these things. I am frustrated with a girl who says she loves You and yet she doesn't do what you've asked her to do. I am frustrated with a girl who You have delivered from the darkest deepest waters, and yet she isn't following her calling. I am frustrated with a girl who has had an incredible opportunity to know You in a way more intimate than most may ever know You, and yet she isn't screaming about Your love from the mountaintops and the valleys. I am frustrated with a girl who knows that You are the most incredibly loving and amazing Father, and yet she finds excuses not to write her blog. I am frustrated with a girl who You've called to do all those things....a girl who said she wanted to be an Esther...a girl who You've asked to do hard things because You wanted to grow her...and yet for all her faith she claims to have, she won't step out and go.
So God, would You help her? Would You allow her to see that maybe if she would do what You've called her to do, then maybe the other things that frustrate her would get better because she was making a difference. Could You keep reminding her that You gave her a story that fits into Your story? A story that You've asked her to share. God, would You please remind her that those other voices that she hears do not matter and that she only needs to listen to that still, small voice and nothing else? Because I know her and she really wants to do what You want her to...it's just that sometimes she is so overwhelmed by the storm that she forgets to listen for that quiet whisper. Please don't give up on her because she's trying so hard to prepare herself to do those things You've given her to dream.
It was Saturday. Yesterday was Friday. Yesterday they had watched Him die. Yesterday they had witnessed the sun refusing to shine and the earth quaking because their Creator had lost His life. They had watched him be tortured and beaten. They had witnessed the crowds mocking Him and them nailing Him to die on a cross. They had been there when He cried that it was finished. They had seen Him be buried. They knew He was gone.
And now it was Saturday...they had woken to hopelessness and fear of the unknown that lay before them. This Man they had followed for three years was now gone. His Father had allowed Him to be crucified and now He was lying in a borrowed tomb. They were afraid for their futures for they did not understand what Sunday would bring. They remembered the horror of Friday. Now they were scattered...fearful for their very lives.
Saturday was a day of darkness and hopelessness. It was a day of fear and not knowing what would follow. The hopelessness they felt on that Saturday had to be heart wrenching and horrible. They had been with Jesus for three years and today He was gone...silent...and they were as sheep without a shepherd.
We spend a lot of our time in Saturdays. We have heard the words of our Lord and we know them to be true, and yet we get hit with Fridays that are dark, hard, and desperate. We watch things in our lives fall apart with no hope of them being repaired. We have Fridays when the last thing we ever expected happens and we find ourselves lost for what to do next. There are days in our lives when the sun seems to hide itself from us and our heart feels as if it is being ripped in two. There are days when God seems painfully silent and we feel that He has turned His back on us.
Saturdays can be a time of waiting. A time when we rehearse the events of the day before trying to find evidence of hope or at least a sense of understanding. Saturdays can be dark and long. Saturdays can leave us looking at Friday without any hope for a Sunday. Saturdays are the days when faith comes in and calms your heart. It's the time when you wait on God not knowing how long the wait will be. Saturday is the period between Friday's heartbreak and Sunday's unspeakable joy.
I've spent a lot of time in Saturdays. I've endured the pain of Friday not knowing how long it would be before Sunday would come. But there's a lesson in Saturday. Jesus Himself had a period of waiting. He didn't go straight from the humiliation and pain of the cross to the glory of His resurrection. For there was Saturday. The day creation would wait for her King to rise. The day when Satan felt he had defeated Christ as He lay there in that tomb. The day when His followers would find themselves engulfed in hopelessness. The day when God was silent as His Son slept. Saturday was necessary as part of the process.
We all have Saturdays in our lives. That time in the middle when we wait for God to take our pain and suffering and turn it into something for His glory. The time when it seems that God is silent or maybe even gone. Sometimes Saturdays last a really long time. Sometimes it seems like a Saturday will never end.
But soon enough Saturday becomes Sunday. Hope comes from despair. Beauty comes from brokenness. Love breaks free and unspeakable joy comes out of the very places where hopelessness once abounded. So if you are in a Saturday, hold on. Don't give up in the waiting. For the hurt on Friday will turn to hope on Sunday. The brokenness of Friday will birth beauty on Sunday. The pain of Friday will give you purpose on Sunday. So hold on through Saturday because Sunday is just around the corner.
I've often thought about her, the woman caught in adultery, brought by her accusers to stand before Jesus for judgment. The Scribes and Pharisees had nothing but malicious intentions. They knew that this woman was guilty of sin punishable by death according to the scripture. They purposefully brought her and placed her in the midst of those who knew her in order to publicly humiliate under the pretense of being servants of God. They brought her to stand guilty before the Perfect One.
I think about her standing there alone in her guilt. She never claimed to be innocent. She knew she had sinned. And here she stood humiliated and alone in front of her peers and her accusers. The fear that must have gripped her soul. Not only did she stand before these in her shame, but she had been brought to stand before the Son of God. Her accusers were quick to point out her wrongdoing. They even pointed out what the law said should happen next. I imagine them smiling as they stood there condemning her to punishment by death. I imagine the people in the crowd whispering about her and her sin. I see her with her tear stained face awaiting certain death.
But Jesus, He just stooped down and began to write in the dirt. I have often wondered what He was writing. Many assume that He was writing the Ten Commandments, but we don't really know. Maybe He was writing the names of those who stood there. Maybe He was listing the sins that many there had committed. Maybe it wasn't what He wrote at all, but the way He conducted Himself, ignoring their attempts to force Him to condemn her. Whatever it was, it made all the difference.
When they wouldn't give up in their pursuit to have her condemned, Jesus stood to His feet and stated that anyone there without sin should cast the first stone, and then He went back to writing in the dirt. I can see them now looking at the ground where His finger was writing in the dirt. I see them slowly one by one being convicted of their own sinful transgressions and walking away knowing themselves to be guilty as well.
And so after they had all gone away, this woman caught in the very act of adultery found herself alone with Jesus. He was the only one who stood without sin...the only one worthy to cast a stone. I see Him standing before her, asking who was remaining to accuse her and she said that they had all gone away. Then Jesus, the one who was worthy to cast judgment looked into her guilty eyes and spoke those beautiful words, "Neither do I condemn thee, go and sin no more."
Here was a woman who stood guilty of committing a sin. The crowd knew she was guilty. What they also knew was that they themselves stood guilty of sin as well, which led them to lay down their stones of judgment and self-righteousness and walk away. Jesus loved her in spite of her sin. She was why He came. He came for sinners. He came to shower us with unconditional redemptive love.
It was late at night when he sat crying at the foot of our bed telling us the news we never expected to hear. Although my heart was breaking and filled with disappointment, all I saw before me was my firstborn...my little blond haired boy...consumed in guilt and shame, feeling undeserving of my love and forgiveness, yet wanting so bad for me to love him enough to forgive...to lay down the stone that I could throw and instead wrap my arms around him in love. And so as he offered to gather his things and leave, it was my chance to forgive as I am so often forgiven.
My son sat at the foot of my bed and told me that his girlfriend was pregnant. I went over it in my head a million times...what could I have done differently? Didn't I teach him right from wrong? Should I have changed churches sooner? Maybe if he had had better Christian mentors? Should I have been more strict? Had he tried to reach out to me and I missed it? But while my head was going through the questions, my heart looked at the tear streaked face of this man who had made me a mom. My heart saw him for who he was...he was still that good kid that I had the honor of raising. He had never been in trouble. He had never drank alcohol, smoked a cigarette, or taken drugs. He never even got a speeding ticket. This man before me was the same kid who stayed with his grandparents when they were sick, who mows his grandmother's yard, who loves little kids and doesn't mind them crawling all over him. And I did the only thing I could do...I took him outside on the porch and we prayed. We prayed for forgiveness and for guidance. We held hands and thanked God for His amazing grace and forgiveness. We prayed for his girlfriend that she would find peace and have a healthy pregnancy. And we prayed for the precious baby that would one day bring us joy.
They have our blessing. our love, and our forgiveness. No, they didn't have to get married, they wanted to get married. It was the plan all along. They have made things right with God and with each other. I am learning to be a mother-in-law and how to love an adult son who is now the spiritual leader of his own household. Her parents are learning how to live with an empty nest while welcoming my son as their own. We are blessed. We are blessed to have two children who chose to be responsible and give life to a precious baby that they could have eliminated without anyone knowing. We are blessed to see two people who love each other make a commitment before God to live for Him and raise their baby in His house. We are blessed to await the arrival of a precious gift from God.
And while you're here, can I just say that I have seen him. I have had the honor to see this beautiful little life that is forming in a quiet hidden place. I have seen his little hand and his fingers. They are so perfect...ready to reach one day and grasp my finger in his little fingers. I have seen his little feet and his little toes, and one day I will kiss those precious little feet and marvel at how wonderfully made he is. I have seen his little heart beating...growing strong for days when he will run and laugh and play. I have seen him...and I have fallen absolutely in love with him. He is not a mistake. He is not an accident. He is a creation of the Creator being fearfully and wonderfully made in a hidden place. His name and form are known by the Most High. His days are all written in God's plan. And yes, God has a plan for this little one. I don't know what it is yet, and I may not live to ever know, but I do know that he is already bringing my heart unspeakable joy.
And so I ask you as you finish reading, to pause a moment and look at the stone you are holding in your hand, for I know how easy it is to rush to grab one. Just look at it before you are tempted to throw it. Take a minute and look at Jesus writing in the dirt. Could He have a message for you there as well? Could He be asking you to lay aside the stone, and instead to take an opportunity to show His grace, mercy, and love to two people who really are no different than you are? Could He be asking you to love them like He loves you? I hope so because I love those two (well, three) with all my heart...and so does God. I am so overwhelmed by His grace and mercy, and I am so thankful that He forgives. His grace really is amazing...and I am grateful for seeing that same grace in the eyes and actions of some of you. May He bless you richly for your love.
Once upon a time a fish named George came to live in a beautiful small pond in the country. George had been moved to this pond by the Great Fisherman and loved his life there. In no time at all, George had quickly made friends with the fish in the small pond. Not only was George a friendly outgoing fish, but he was also beautiful. Most of the fish living in the pond were small brown fish and had never seen a fish so amazing as George. George was a radiant orange color with scales that glistened when the sun reflected off them near the surface of the pond. All the fish in the pond wanted to be like George.
George spent his days sharing his knowledge and demonstrating his skills to the other fish. He told them the story of how he had been chosen by the Great Fisherman. The other fish swam in awe of his relationship with the Great Fisherman. They wanted so much to be more like George. Some of the fish found that if they rubbed themselves against the perimeter of the pond walls that they could get some of the burnt orange color of the mud on their scales. Over time some of the fish actually started to resemble George not only in actions, but also in color. Many happy days were spent swimming along with George in the pond.
Fred was a tiny brown fish who lived in the pond. Fred had lived there his whole life and knew nothing other than life in the small pond. Fred was liked by most of the fish in the pond even though to look at him, he was nothing special. Not only was Fred smaller than most of the fish, he also had a broken fin that made it hard for him to swim. Fred too admired George, but he knew that he could never fit in with him and the others. Sometimes Fred tried to join the other fish as they swam along with George, but he soon came to the realization that he could never fit in with his broken fin. Fred started spending his days swimming alone. He even came to realize that if he swam in the depths of the pond where the light of the sun didn't quite touch, he could blend in with the murky dark water and go unnoticed. Eventually the other fish forgot about Fred and he spent all of his time in the dark murky depths swimming with his broken fin.
One day the Great Fisherman came to the pond. Word quickly spread that the Great Fisherman had arrived. All the fish gathered near the pond's surface so that they could be seen. Every day the fish had learned more and more about what the Great Fisherman wanted from his fish. They knew how he wanted them to swim. They stretched their fins every day to make them stronger. They met often so that they could show each other their progress and encourage each other to continue to improve. The Great Fisherman truly was pleased with their desire to do as he had asked and to see how they had improved themselves individually and as a group.
After gazing into the pond for awhile, the Great Fisherman took a net and placed it gently in the water among the fish. All the fish were excited at the thought of being chosen by the Great Fisherman. All the fish waited in anticipation as the net hovered in the water. It appeared that the Great Fisherman was looking for a particular fish. Although disappointed at the thought that they were not the chosen one, the fish quickly came to realize that he must be there to get George. Who else would he choose? George quickly swam beside the net and waited to be caught up within its grasp as he had been before. The net did not move to catch him. George thought that the Great Fisherman must not have seen him, so he swam inside the net. Still the net didn't take him up from the water. George swam to the bottom of the net pushing on the net in order to make the Great Fisherman notice that he was in the net. Not only did the net not start to pick him up, the net actually turned to remove him from within it..
Slowly the net was lowered below the level of the fish. All the fish were confused. They did not understand the meaning of what was happening. The net was extended down into the deepest depths of the pond where Fred was hiding alone. The net gently closed in around Fred, and he began to be lifted toward the surface of the pond. Fred was sure that he was being removed from the pond because of his broken fin. Although he was hurt, he understood. The other fish assumed that this was indeed the reason for Fred being chosen and went on to swim as always.
The Great Fisherman talked to Fred in a loving voice as he carried him in a bucket along a path. Fred could see his reflection in the bucket's walls, Fred saw his plain brown body. He saw how small he truly was. But more than anything, Fred saw his broken fin. It had been mangled in the storms that had hit the pond. Part of his fin was missing. Some of the fin that remained had thin places and holes where Fred had been beaten against the rocks. No wonder the Great Fisherman didn't want him in the pond with the others.
The Great Fisherman stopped by a large lake. He sat down on a log and held the bucket containing Fred in his hands. Fred could see his face and his loving smile. Fred was no different than the other fish. He too desired more than anything to please the Great Fisherman, but he just didn't know how he could. He was just a small plain brown fish with a broken mangled fin. Fred listened as the Great Fisherman told him about the place where he had brought him to live. The vastness of this big pond frightened Fred. Fred only knew life in a little pond. How would he survive here? Would anyone even notice he was there? The Great Fisherman said something about trusting him and that Fred only needed to be himself, and then Fred was dumped into the depths of the biggest pond he had ever seen.
Fred's first inclination was to head for the safety of the darkness, but he was quickly met by two other fish. Fred waited for the fish to say something about his fin, but they didn't. They took Fred on a tour of the pond. As they swam, Fred saw more fish than he ever imagined existing. There were fish of all colors and sizes. He saw fish with rainbows on their sides. He saw fish with blue gills, long whiskers, and shiny scales. He even saw fish that were orange just like George. So many fish swimming in the waters of the pond. Fred began to notice that some of the fish had broken fins just like him. He noticed that some fish had scales that were missing. A few fish still had pieces of metal in them where they had been able to escape a hook. Some fish were even missing an eye. Fred quickly learned that he had grown accustomed to life in the little pond without much thought of life outside the pond. Fred only knew what he saw every day. He had never given any thought to those outside his pond.
Fred quickly made friends with the fish in the pond, but he formed special bonds with the fish who were broken like him. The fish who were missing scales, had injured fins, or who had narrowly escaped the hook, all were fascinated by Fred's stories of the Great Fisherman. They never realized that the Great Fisherman was interested in them too. They only thought he wanted fish like George who radiated beauty to those around him. They were hopeful hearing how the Great Fisherman had made such efforts to go to the depths of the pond to search for Fred. They were encouraged to hear that they too were special in the eyes of the Great Fisherman.
The injured fish in the big pond were changed forever because a little plain brown fish with a mangled broken fin told his story. And a little fish named Fred came to realize that sometimes being a little fish in a big pond can make a lot of difference...especially when the Great Fisherman places you there. Turns out that the Great Fisherman can use a tiny broken mangled fish to radically change a big pond.
The Lion and the Lamb
Tomorrow is the first day of March. Those who know me well know that March is a tough month for me. Most of the toughest and life-changing moments happened during the last two weeks of March. It has been said that the weather in March either comes in as a lion or a lamb and then exits as the other. It has been my experience that emotionally March tends to come in as a lamb and exit as a lion.
Sometimes life is just hard. For some reason it seems that March has been especially hard for my side of the family. My uncle whom I adored passed away on March 20 from lung cancer. My aunt, his sister, passed away from pneumonia on March 28 several years later. I was standing by my grandfather's bedside when he passed away on March 27, 2013. March has brought scares of possible cancer, hospital tests, and impending surgery for my daughter. March can be life changing. March brought the experience of my first flight, my first delivery of a eulogy, and my first real experience hearing God's voice. March has birthed dreams for my life and brought brokenness to my heart.
And so tomorrow, I head into March again.
It would be easy to fear March. There is an unspoken revelation that comes when the calendar changes dates and reminds you what anniversary is marked by this day. Little reminders of what you've lost. Tiny glimpses of what you once took for granted and now your heart aches to return there if even for just one day. Painful reflections on where you failed. They all wait for you like snares to trap you into wasting more time, losing more moments, adding more failure.
But then you're reminded of the other side of those memories. The wonderful opportunity you had to love those family members. The awesome memories of soaring through the clouds with your husband and children to go to your favorite place. Those bike rides and late night board games with your uncle. The way your aunt could make you laugh. The reverence you felt when your grandfather's spirit left the room and the smiles that came despite the tears as you delivered his eulogy. The news that your daughter didn't have cancer. And the most life changing dream you would ever dream that continues to open doors you never thought to enter.
And then you're reminded Who you know. You know the Lion of the tribe of Judah. You know the Lamb of God. You have witnessed with your own life the power and the fierceness of the Lion. You have rested in His strength and you have watched Him protect you by His power. You have been to the cross where the Lamb went to be slaughtered, and you have been washed in His blood.
And so you know that this March may bring its own trials and tribulations, but you also know that whether it blows in as a Lamb or as a Lion makes little difference because your life has been washed in the blood of the Lamb. You don't have to worry about how little strength you have because your power comes from the Lion of Judah. My prayer is that I learn from what I've lost and like them leave a legacy, for they too knew the Lion and the Lamb.
Just as March brings the renewal of spring, may it bring forth revival and renewal in me and those around me. For March is also the birth of a calling from the Lion to tell others about the Lamb. And so, here am I, send me.
You are the one who gave me the greatest title I will ever hold - that of Mom. You are the one who taught me what unconditional love felt like. You are the one who gave me so many firsts and taught me so many things. I cannot imagine what my life would have been like without you in it. You taught me to love. You taught me what it's means to love someone so much that you truly would give your life for them. You made me laugh, even on days when I really didn't feel like it. You brought me joy.
I was so blessed that God chose you to be mine. I was given a very special little boy to love. I will never forget the way you held the baby ducks when you were only two, being so cautious not to hurt their legs and gently placing them in the water. We would sit you in the grass at the farm and the baby goats would come up to you and you would try to kiss them on the nose. My mind goes back to all those moments I hold in my heart, and each one reminds me of how blessed I am to have you in my life and how truly special you are. .
And now you're getting married. You will no longer sit at my breakfast table. I won't hear you laughing in the loft playing video games with your sister. You won't come in my sitting room just to sit in the chair and hang out with me for no reason. You will no longer sit at the foot of my bed and talk to your dad and me before we go to sleep. You won't yell goodnight from your room. And I can't imagine you not being there...that little blond headed boy has grown into a handsome young man and it's time for you to go.
First, let me say how proud I am of you. I am blessed beyond measure to call you mine. You have grown into the most loving human being I know. I watched you speak at your great-grandfather's funeral and realized how strong of a man you were becoming. I've watched you help your great-grandparents and your grandparents., spending the night, helping with tasks when you had other things to do, and making them smile. You love God. You might not be perfect, but you sincerely try to live life honestly, lovingly, and according to what you've been taught. I never had to worry about you getting into trouble. Even as an adult, you text your mom to let her know you're out of the lake so she won't worry. You are trustworthy and honest. I believe with all my heart that you wouldn't ever hurt anyone on purpose. You love your sister and for that I am grateful. I pray that the two of you will be lifelong friends and support each other no matter what.
And so as you go off to start your own family, my prayer is that you rest in the confidence that I am proud of who you are. I am excited about the wonderful things that lie ahead of you. I pray that you take your responsibility as spiritual leader of your household seriously. My prayer is that you love your bride as Christ loved the church. I pray that she remains confident in your ability to lead and that she is able to entrust her heart and family to your leadership. I want you to feel confident in making your own decisions, yet know if you need advice or an ear that I am always here.
I am proud of you for choosing a beautiful bride who loves the Lord. I have prayed for her for years. It wasn't until recently that I knew her name, but I knew one day she would come. For it is this beautiful young woman who will take my place. She will now be the one you go to with your questions, the flowers you pick in the field, and the one you tell the news from your day. She will be the woman who now holds your heart. I am grateful that my future grandchildren will be blessed with the gift of Christian parents. I pray that the two of you grown in love for each other, and that you learn to spread your wings and fly.
And so my precious boy, it's time to let you go. And that is harder than you realize, for you carry part of my heart with you always. Be patient with me as I learn to love from a new position. Try to understand why I need to hear your voice sometimes, and why I text you just to tell you that I love you. Because while you are starting out with new hopes and dreams, I'm at home trying to get used to your room being empty, to the strange quietness upstairs, and to an empty chair at my table. And so sometimes, I will just need to remind you how much I love you and how absolutely blessed I am to be your mom.
So stretch your wings and fly knowing that I am watching with pride and unconditional love. May your life be filled with joy, love, and wonderful memories. And one day when you become a dad, I hope you understand how much I love you.
Giving up the Picture
I laid in bed last night listening to the sounds of my son and daughter playing video games together in my son's bedroom. As I quietly laid there listening to their laughter, I tried to soak in the sound of it. All these years I have taken that beautiful sound for granted. I never stopped to think that one day I might not hear it anymore.
We do that as parents. We take things for granted. We celebrate the firsts - the first laugh, first word, first tooth, first step. But we miss the lasts. We don't think about the last time he sleeps in a crib, the last time we rock her to sleep, the last time we tie his shoes, or the last night they stay up late playing video games. As my son prepares to leave the nest and begin a new life of firsts with his future bride, I find myself trying to celebrate each "last". Our last vacation as a family of four. Our last trip to the cabin with just the four of us. I wonder will I know when it's the last time he will sit at my breakfast table? Will I know when we are eating our last dinner with him as a single man? Why is it that we focus on firsts and neglect lasts? Because the truth is, we don't know when something will be our last.
We live our lives in such a hurry. We rush on from day to day under the assumption that nothing will change. We don't consider that when our child leaves for school that he might not come home. We leave for work without thinking we might never hear our spouse's voice again. No thought is given to the fact that this day could be our last. No one dreams that tomorrow might bring news of cancer or death. We just move from day to day numbly assuming that nothing will change.
Although I don't always see it, God has spent the last couple of years teaching me that life is about change. If I was honest, I would tell you that I am broken. The picture I had of what I thought my life would look like is shattered in a million pieces. Nothing in my life looks like what I thought it would. I have lost who I thought I was, what I thought I wanted, and where I thought I was headed.
But sitting in the middle of these shattered pieces, sifting through the ashes left behind from fiery trials, I find what I never expected - beauty. It's funny that even though that beautiful picture of what I thought my life would be like is gone, I can see a different image emerging from the pieces, not a picture that I would have made, but a picture being painted by an Artist with a different perspective.
Broken pieces in the hand of a divine Artist come together in beautiful tapestries of light and life. So God has been hard at work rearranging the picture that I created in my head, so that I can see the picture that He has in mind. Honestly, I liked my picture better, but that picture doesn't reflect who I really am. It's not who I'm wired to be.
For two months I haven't picked up a pen and journal to write. I failed to listen to the voice of the Artist. I listened to the voices of others who caused me to question my calling and fear what might come as a result of it. I listened to Satan whispering in my ear that no one would be interested in hearing my story. What could a woman offer to others when she didn't have her own answers?
But in the noise, I hear another voice that beckons me to walk into the light with Him. He arranges the broken pieces in such a way that they catch the light and reflect beauty. He beckons me to walk with Him along the shore even though the threatening waves are never far away. He teaches me to look at them differently, see the beauty in the depths of the unknown, and trust Him.
And so even though I am learning to celebrate some lasts, I am also looking ahead to some firsts. I have learned that although I was in love with the picture that I created, my Creator is in love with me and wants to show me His picture for my life. And so I leave the remnants of my broken dreams in pieces on the floor and I start to walk over to where He is. I can see Him picking up the pieces and rearranging them in ways I never would have dreamed. And even though the new picture has missing pieces, making it appear to be broken, it is those broken places where His light shines through.
I find that this is what makes His picture the most beautiful. My picture might have looked perfect, but it might have blocked the Light. This new picture lets the Light shine through it, creating rays of color that are capable of catching the attention of others with whom I can share my story of Light. Life is about change. It's also about changing lives...and that creates the most beautiful picture of all.
A Visit Back to Bethel
Today is a journey to Bethel. My mind, heart, and soul will journey today to my own personal Bethel for a time of remembrance of meeting with God. A day that changed me and my relationship with God forever. There is an unexplainable reverence associated with today. I feel as though I should take off my shoes for it is holy ground I trod.
Bethel was a special place for Jacob. It marked the place where he met with God. It was a place of spiritual commitment for Jacob. It was a place where God gave him dreams and promises.
My Bethel is similar for it was there that I met with God. It was the place where God made a covenant with me. It was a place where God asked me to dream dreams that I could not comprehend or think to dream on my own. It was a day when He handed me a promise when all my other promises were broken.
My Bethel is the place where the God of glory, the Creator of the universe, otherwise known as my heavenly Daddy, reached down and held His baby girl. In my life I have been blessed to witness the presence of the Holy Spirit, but never in my life have I ever felt like I could touch Him. The Peace that came that day was truly beyond understanding. He was patient as I struggled to see the beauty in the ashes.
For me, Bethel is a place of affirmations, altars, and assurance. It was there that He affirmed who I was in Him. He affirmed His love for me and His presence.
It was there that I erected a spiritual altar. For me, November 5th represents the day that God met with me in a different way for the first of many meetings. Many times I find myself at that altar, thanking Him again for showing me the beauty in the ashes, joy instead of mourning, and a garment of praise instead of a spirit of heaviness.
My Bethel is a place of blessed assurance. A trip to Bethel reminds me of my Daddy's love and unending grace. Going back to Bethel reminds me that He is never too busy to run to me when I call. It was there that He assured me that His promises are faithful and true. He reminded me that the dream was still alive and that I was still to be its dreamer.
So this second anniversary of my Bethel, I approach the altar in awe and wonder. There is no place for shoes here, for it is holy ground on which I stand. I come into the presence of the Most High God with an overflowing heart of gratitude. I find myself kneeling, and then the need to fall on my face in worship to a God who cares about His baby girl enough to run and take her in His arms.
On this visit to Bethel, I must renew my commitment to Him and to His call. I must no longer be a slave to fear, but devoted to the service of my God.