“I like when the sky is like that,” Hunter said, pointing out a cascade of pink hues in an early morning daybreak. It was a rare moment that we were both sitting at the kitchen table, enjoying our breakfast before the hectic day began. I agreed with him, “Yes, it is pretty,” I said, actually stopping to notice the beauty of it. Then he added a short description that captured the essence of the view. “It’s like fireworks, only silent.”
That statement took my breath away. He was right. The glow was majestic, powerful, and inspiring. Yet, it was quiet. There was no sound to command attention. However, once I noticed it, I didn’t want to stop enjoying it.
If you are like me on most days, this grandeur is missed. I rush through the day, overwhelmed and stressed out, with too many items on my plate to balance. I think everything I am doing is so important and if something gets dropped, gets out of line, or simply doesn’t happen, then the day is over. Then I start it all over again with the same pressures and deadlines looming.
Only when a tragedy occurs do I seem to wake up from this illusion. A loved one dies, a heart gets broken, tears fall, and I stop. When life becomes too real or too much, I seem to wake up, suddenly aware of everything around me. I see the promise of tulips and daffodils about to bloom in my yard, the intricate patterns of the fish in my aquarium, and a sun, vibrant and consistent, always rising with authority and resting with a warm glow. I pause. My world stops and sighs. Then, as two little boys race by, I marvel at how quickly they are growing up to be young men.
It is through nature that I feel close to God. I think my sons have that same love for nature as we all enjoy traipsing through the woods, watching birds flock to our backyard, and finding any excuse to spend a little more time outside.
Perhaps it is through nature that God reveals Himself to me. I know that His love is constant. “Oh, thank God--He’s so good! His love never runs out.” (Psalm 107:1) He is also majestic and powerful. “God’s thunder sets the oak trees dancing, a wild dance, whirling…we call out, “Glory!” (Psalm 29: 9). The crashing waves at the beach, the tug on a kite with a strong March wind, and the torrents of rain as I race out of the grocery store thinking I can make it only to get drenched remind me of his strength. Yet it is His strength that I long for. “God makes his people strong. God gives his people peace.” (Psalm 29:11). Finally, He is beautiful. He is not boastful nor is He a braggart. He doesn’t show off, even though He could. He makes things glorious. He made Hunter and Parker. He made you. “Body and soul, I am marvelously made!” (Psalm 139:15). I am humbled by the Creator’s love for me.
A friend of mine said that instead of waking up thinking about what he was supposed to create today, he decided to wake up and think about the Creator. Instead of thinking about what he had to accomplish, he was going to enjoy seeing how the Creator used him that day.
I like that idea. It takes the pressure off of me to be in charge. When the day is done, there is only One who is in control. “Like an open book, you watched me grow from conception to birth; all the stages of my life were spread out before you, the days of my life all prepared before I’d even lived one day.” (Psalm 139:15-16). I am comforted that He is taking care of the day He has already planned. When I am overwhelmed, He is there, faithful, strong, and loving. “Casting the whole of your care (all your anxieties, all your worries, all your concerns, once and for all) on Him, for He cares for you affectionately and cares about you watchfully.” (I Peter 5: 7). Best of all, He doesn’t create in a stressed out, hurried up, chaotic fashion. He creates with patience, understanding, and wisdom. Most of all, He creates with love. He makes silent fireworks.
Sunday, February 8, 2009
Monday, December 15, 2008
Tuesday, December 9, 2008
Lost, But Now I'm Found
It was small. It was furry. It had brown and black spots all over it. It was a small stuffed jaguar that escaped from my young son Parker’s grasp, but remained in his heart.
“Where is it?” he asked.
“Where is what, Parker?” I replied scanning shelves of groceries, searching for that item I had a coupon for.
“My jaguar.”
“I don’t know. You had it,” I said.
“I don’t have it now.” Suddenly tears welled up in his eyes. The dreaded “Lost Toy in Wal-mart” fiasco would begin.
The cart was mostly full, the store was definitely crowded, and our stomachs were incredibly empty. However, any notion of checking out and getting out was gone as the search was on for a small stuffed jaguar.
At first, I kicked myself. Why do always let my kids bring a simple toy in the store? Why can’t they leave them in the car or, better yet, at home in their rooms? I became frustrated about my decisions and of course, it didn’t help that several customers were giving me the “evil eye” because I had stopped the flow of the shopping traffic. My irritation escalated as I maneuvered around people who couldn’t decide what type of peanut butter to buy. Just pick one and get out of the way, I thought. I’ve got a jaguar to find. My patience was fading, but my stress was escalating.
Then, I began to fret. What if we don’t find the toy? I remembered how much my stuffed animals meant to me. In my mind, they were real. They were alive, happy, and faithful. They were friends no matter what happened. I hugged them, cried on them, danced with them, and slung them around the room. Still, their faces kept that simple gaze. I could only imagine how Parker’s heart was hurting as his little bottom lip poked out and his eyes scanned the area in worry.
I suddenly became desperate. I had to find it. I was determined to stay as long as the store was open so I could find it. I thought about asking a store clerk to help me. I imagined it being placed in a bin somewhere to be restocked. I thought about some kid picking it up and taking it home. I glowered at every child suspiciously. Are you hiding it from me, little boy? How about you, little girl, what’s in your jacket? I faintly heard the song they play whenever the Wicked Witch of the West appears in The Wizard of Oz as I zoomed from aisle to aisle looking for that toy.
After about the twentieth time down the same aisle, I stopped. I sighed out. It was hopeless. It was gone. How could I give up and tell Parker we had to go home, that it was lost, and I couldn’t find it?
Granted, telling Parker this information would bother him for the moment, and in the long run, it wasn’t a big deal. No one had died. No one was injured. Hunter and Parker weren‘t lost, just a stuffed toy that could be replaced with any other toy.
But I didn’t want to give up. So I said a prayer. Maybe some would say it was a selfish prayer. But I knew I was powerless and I knew He knew exactly where that toy was. So I prayed. I asked to find that toy for the sake of a lesson learned (no toys brought anywhere outside of a car or house) and a little boy’s broken heart.
We turned the corner when suddenly I spotted a small brown stuffed animal. There it was! I grabbed it and gave it to Parker. He hugged it so tightly and didn’t let go of it for the rest of the day. I stopped the cart, and in the middle of the store, we three prayed a great “thank you.” I was amazed.
I know that this little miracle could be called a “coincidence” or “luck.” I know that, in the grand scheme of things, this moment was a fraction of what could be called magnificent. But it was our moment, a time that I will hold in my heart that simply reminded me that God cares about every aspect of our lives, even the littlest things. In a world with heartache and suffering, God takes the time to hear me and surprise me.
Best of all, He found me. I was lost, too, but he rescued me. I have trekked down paths that I had no business being in and He wouldn’t stop searching for me. Once He found me, He picked me up, held me tightly, and set my feet on solid ground. He never gives up on me. He never forgets about me. He never leaves me. He says I’m worth it. That’s simply amazing to me.
That jaguar was lost and because it was lost, Parker’s heart was breaking. When it was found, his joy was restored. Imagine how our Father must feel when one of His children who was lost is now found.
“Through many dangers, toils and snares, we have already come.
T'was Grace that brought us safe thus far and Grace will lead us home.”
In the year 2009, may the ones who are lost be found by the One who loves us with amazing grace.
“Where is it?” he asked.
“Where is what, Parker?” I replied scanning shelves of groceries, searching for that item I had a coupon for.
“My jaguar.”
“I don’t know. You had it,” I said.
“I don’t have it now.” Suddenly tears welled up in his eyes. The dreaded “Lost Toy in Wal-mart” fiasco would begin.
The cart was mostly full, the store was definitely crowded, and our stomachs were incredibly empty. However, any notion of checking out and getting out was gone as the search was on for a small stuffed jaguar.
At first, I kicked myself. Why do always let my kids bring a simple toy in the store? Why can’t they leave them in the car or, better yet, at home in their rooms? I became frustrated about my decisions and of course, it didn’t help that several customers were giving me the “evil eye” because I had stopped the flow of the shopping traffic. My irritation escalated as I maneuvered around people who couldn’t decide what type of peanut butter to buy. Just pick one and get out of the way, I thought. I’ve got a jaguar to find. My patience was fading, but my stress was escalating.
Then, I began to fret. What if we don’t find the toy? I remembered how much my stuffed animals meant to me. In my mind, they were real. They were alive, happy, and faithful. They were friends no matter what happened. I hugged them, cried on them, danced with them, and slung them around the room. Still, their faces kept that simple gaze. I could only imagine how Parker’s heart was hurting as his little bottom lip poked out and his eyes scanned the area in worry.
I suddenly became desperate. I had to find it. I was determined to stay as long as the store was open so I could find it. I thought about asking a store clerk to help me. I imagined it being placed in a bin somewhere to be restocked. I thought about some kid picking it up and taking it home. I glowered at every child suspiciously. Are you hiding it from me, little boy? How about you, little girl, what’s in your jacket? I faintly heard the song they play whenever the Wicked Witch of the West appears in The Wizard of Oz as I zoomed from aisle to aisle looking for that toy.
After about the twentieth time down the same aisle, I stopped. I sighed out. It was hopeless. It was gone. How could I give up and tell Parker we had to go home, that it was lost, and I couldn’t find it?
Granted, telling Parker this information would bother him for the moment, and in the long run, it wasn’t a big deal. No one had died. No one was injured. Hunter and Parker weren‘t lost, just a stuffed toy that could be replaced with any other toy.
But I didn’t want to give up. So I said a prayer. Maybe some would say it was a selfish prayer. But I knew I was powerless and I knew He knew exactly where that toy was. So I prayed. I asked to find that toy for the sake of a lesson learned (no toys brought anywhere outside of a car or house) and a little boy’s broken heart.
We turned the corner when suddenly I spotted a small brown stuffed animal. There it was! I grabbed it and gave it to Parker. He hugged it so tightly and didn’t let go of it for the rest of the day. I stopped the cart, and in the middle of the store, we three prayed a great “thank you.” I was amazed.
I know that this little miracle could be called a “coincidence” or “luck.” I know that, in the grand scheme of things, this moment was a fraction of what could be called magnificent. But it was our moment, a time that I will hold in my heart that simply reminded me that God cares about every aspect of our lives, even the littlest things. In a world with heartache and suffering, God takes the time to hear me and surprise me.
Best of all, He found me. I was lost, too, but he rescued me. I have trekked down paths that I had no business being in and He wouldn’t stop searching for me. Once He found me, He picked me up, held me tightly, and set my feet on solid ground. He never gives up on me. He never forgets about me. He never leaves me. He says I’m worth it. That’s simply amazing to me.
That jaguar was lost and because it was lost, Parker’s heart was breaking. When it was found, his joy was restored. Imagine how our Father must feel when one of His children who was lost is now found.
“Through many dangers, toils and snares, we have already come.
T'was Grace that brought us safe thus far and Grace will lead us home.”
In the year 2009, may the ones who are lost be found by the One who loves us with amazing grace.
Tuesday, November 18, 2008
A Single Parent's Christmas Wish
What do you want for Christmas? During this season, I ask this question often to my family and friends. However, when someone asks me, I hesitate. When I look around at my home with toys strewn about, laundry needing to be put away, and various other items cluttering each space, I immediately think about a maid service. Then I realize that once it is clean, it will only become disorganized in a short amount of time. I ponder the question: what do I really want for Christmas?
As a single parent, I sometimes long for time to slow down. I’d like to have a remote control that could freeze special moments. Maybe I could rewind the time and visit a fall day at the Quad with my sons, riding their bikes, chasing squirrels, and drinking Yoo-Hoos. Other times, I’d like a crystal ball to be able to see into the future. Often, I attempt to form a game plan for the next five years, only to rewrite the same plan, then crumple it up and throw it away.
As I look around my den filled with Fisher-Price trucks, cars and airplanes, I see items that are tied to this moment in time. Some of these toys I know from my childhood; others came from last Christmas or a birthday. Still, there are those toys that seemed to appear from nowhere. Perhaps Santa did bring these toys after all. Yet, in a few years, these toys will be replaced with video games, athletic uniforms, and various items that interest my sons. Much later, the den will hold new furniture, as the old will be in a college dorm or apartment as my oldest son moves out. That is, if the furniture can hold up to two active boys and one spry shih tzu.
When I think about what I want for Christmas, I long for what truly satisfies me (and it is not a Snickers bar). Here are a few things I’d like:
The pureness of my two sons’ laughter. I’m not talking about just a giggle, but a down-in-your-gut laugh that turns faces red and sprouts tears from your eyes kind of laugh;
The true Word of God, not spoken from a pastor, but found in my Bible while I’m searching and praying and then there is it, as though God really heard me, because in truth, He really did hear me;
The honorable relationships of those who persist, remain, and hang in there; they may fail or disappoint, but they are my friends and family; they are behind me no matter what, even when I fail or disappoint;
The lovely and lovable, which includes all nature, even those nasty spiders; the beautiful people who make your face hurt when you look at them; and the annoying people who think that they are the sun, having the world revolve around their every whim. Everything God creates is meant to be valued, to be cherished, and to be noticed. Everyone has a purpose beyond simply existing. To ignore someone or to treat someone unfairly insults the creation of God.
The excellence of pursuing our passions. Beyond our family and friends, our passion is what makes us who we are. It is doing what makes us come alive. I love the arts--dancing, acting, and writing. This love I have for the arts is how He designed me. They are there for a purpose beyond this world. By pursuing these interests, I learn about the God who created me to love these things.
So what do you want for Christmas? Yes, that condo in Palm Springs would be nice. A bank account with unlimited funds isn’t bad either. Yet, when we think about our legacy and what each of us leaves behind, perhaps the desire for material gifts changes. Instead, I long for something that lasts for generations.
The greatest gift ever given was one that has and will last forever. It is the gift of God’s son, Jesus. That gift was (and is) true, noble, pure, lovely, and excellent. As a single parent, you will face changes, struggles, or loneliness this Christmas. Instead of charging that credit card to the max, buying another Chia pet, or getting the latest gadget that peels potatoes or finds your keys, think about what you really want to get (and give) this Christmas. Seek those gifts that last for a lifetime. Pursue the One that loves you unconditionally. He knows you completely and longs to give the greatest gift ever--eternal life. Then give gifts of truth, nobleness, purity, loveliness, and excellence to those you meet today. Merry Christmas!
“Whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable--if anything is excellent or praiseworthy---think about such things.” Philippians 4:8.
As a single parent, I sometimes long for time to slow down. I’d like to have a remote control that could freeze special moments. Maybe I could rewind the time and visit a fall day at the Quad with my sons, riding their bikes, chasing squirrels, and drinking Yoo-Hoos. Other times, I’d like a crystal ball to be able to see into the future. Often, I attempt to form a game plan for the next five years, only to rewrite the same plan, then crumple it up and throw it away.
As I look around my den filled with Fisher-Price trucks, cars and airplanes, I see items that are tied to this moment in time. Some of these toys I know from my childhood; others came from last Christmas or a birthday. Still, there are those toys that seemed to appear from nowhere. Perhaps Santa did bring these toys after all. Yet, in a few years, these toys will be replaced with video games, athletic uniforms, and various items that interest my sons. Much later, the den will hold new furniture, as the old will be in a college dorm or apartment as my oldest son moves out. That is, if the furniture can hold up to two active boys and one spry shih tzu.
When I think about what I want for Christmas, I long for what truly satisfies me (and it is not a Snickers bar). Here are a few things I’d like:
The pureness of my two sons’ laughter. I’m not talking about just a giggle, but a down-in-your-gut laugh that turns faces red and sprouts tears from your eyes kind of laugh;
The true Word of God, not spoken from a pastor, but found in my Bible while I’m searching and praying and then there is it, as though God really heard me, because in truth, He really did hear me;
The honorable relationships of those who persist, remain, and hang in there; they may fail or disappoint, but they are my friends and family; they are behind me no matter what, even when I fail or disappoint;
The lovely and lovable, which includes all nature, even those nasty spiders; the beautiful people who make your face hurt when you look at them; and the annoying people who think that they are the sun, having the world revolve around their every whim. Everything God creates is meant to be valued, to be cherished, and to be noticed. Everyone has a purpose beyond simply existing. To ignore someone or to treat someone unfairly insults the creation of God.
The excellence of pursuing our passions. Beyond our family and friends, our passion is what makes us who we are. It is doing what makes us come alive. I love the arts--dancing, acting, and writing. This love I have for the arts is how He designed me. They are there for a purpose beyond this world. By pursuing these interests, I learn about the God who created me to love these things.
So what do you want for Christmas? Yes, that condo in Palm Springs would be nice. A bank account with unlimited funds isn’t bad either. Yet, when we think about our legacy and what each of us leaves behind, perhaps the desire for material gifts changes. Instead, I long for something that lasts for generations.
The greatest gift ever given was one that has and will last forever. It is the gift of God’s son, Jesus. That gift was (and is) true, noble, pure, lovely, and excellent. As a single parent, you will face changes, struggles, or loneliness this Christmas. Instead of charging that credit card to the max, buying another Chia pet, or getting the latest gadget that peels potatoes or finds your keys, think about what you really want to get (and give) this Christmas. Seek those gifts that last for a lifetime. Pursue the One that loves you unconditionally. He knows you completely and longs to give the greatest gift ever--eternal life. Then give gifts of truth, nobleness, purity, loveliness, and excellence to those you meet today. Merry Christmas!
“Whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable--if anything is excellent or praiseworthy---think about such things.” Philippians 4:8.
Change
$1.25. That’s how much incisors and bicuspids go for nowadays. The tooth fairy has met the demand of inflation. My snaggle-toothed son Hunter had lost his front tooth and knew exactly what he wanted to find under his pillow--$1.25. So the pixie searched and found a few quarters to fit the bill and a sleepy gapped toothed angel awoke to find some change to put in his portly piggy bank.
Change. It’s kind of everywhere I look. I find it in the cushions of my couch, the bottom of my purse, and sometimes on my classroom floor. I don’t really mind it. After collecting it for a while, Hunter, Parker, and I count it and call it “summer fun money.” It pays for ice cream on a hot summer day, a happy meal or two, and delights the boys for hours to toss pennies in the fountains in the mall. (Okay, may not hours, but at least a good thirty minutes if you ration the pennies right.)
Sometimes change is annoying. I’m not talking about the shiny kind. Instead, it’s what happens every day, every hour, every minute….change is occurring and there is nothing I can do about it. I used to think about what changes would occur in ten years. I envisioned my career and my family. After getting married and having kids, I shortened that number to five. After becoming a single parent, I started looking at one year.
Every year promises one thing--change. Other than God’s love, change is the only thing I can really count on. I know that everyone will get a little older and things won’t be the same. Sometimes I get nostalgic and miss the times when Hunter and Parker were little babies, just big enough to be cuddled and rocked. I think about when Hunter said his first words and Parker laughed a real laugh. I think of birthdays, Christmas, and memories made in what seemed like another lifetime. It is sometimes hard and weird to remember those times as I see pictures of myself from long ago. Even pictures of myself from five years ago don’t really look like me. I recognize the face, but I don’t really feel like that person anymore.
However, I am reminded of what is constant--God’s love for me--no matter what happens. I’m never without the One who has my best interest at heart. In Romans 8:39 in The Message Bible, it states, “I am absolutely convinced that nothing--nothing living or dead, angelic or demonic, today or tomorrow, high or low, thinkable or unthinkable--absolutely nothing can get between us and God’s love because of the way that Jesus our Master has embraced us.
Ecclesiastes 3:1 speaks of seasons in life by saying “There is an opportune time to do things, a right time for everything on earth.“ (The Message) In this season of my life, I am a mom to two incredible kids, a teacher to some remarkable students, a friend to some unique and loyal people, a daughter to compassionate parents, a sister to my hero (my sister), a cousin to my closest friend (my cousin), and the list goes on. This season is about finding who I am and who I want to be. It is not about gaining and earning, but breathing and living in a moment that is changing way too fast. Right now my boys hug and kiss on me like I’m better than warm chocolate chip cookies. Right now my parents play a vital role in my children’s lives. Right now cardboard boxes and Play-Doh are all part of pretty fabulous day. Right now a little bit of change under a pillow can delight a child--even if it’s just $1.25.
So I’ll take that change--all of it. The shiny kind and the not so sparkling kind--because I know that with growth, there must be change. In order for me to be who God wants me to be, I must grow and that means one thing--change. However, I will become what God has planned all along. He completes the good work in me that He has promised to do as He says in Philippians 1:6 “ There has never been the slightest doubt in my mind that the God who started this great work in you would keep at it and bring it to a flourishing finish on the very day Christ Jesus appears.“(The Message.) It won’t be easy. It won’t be painless. I’ll lose something as I gain other things. But as the Master works on me and helps me change, then the seasons will come and go and I’ll be alive in them. I’ll experience fully what each season brings. I’ll cherish the happy memories, cry over the sad moments, and laugh fully and wholeheartedly any chance I get.
I don’t know what changes the year 2008 will bring. I do know more teeth will be lost and a fairy will have to find $1.25 to put under a pillow. Just as Hunter and Parker have surprises to come, I know God has some pretty shiny and sparkling moments of change to come and surprise me, too. Best of all, I’ll shine like gold, as He purifies me and makes me into who He wants. I’ll sparkle and shine like a million diamonds, not just a $1.25.
Change. It’s kind of everywhere I look. I find it in the cushions of my couch, the bottom of my purse, and sometimes on my classroom floor. I don’t really mind it. After collecting it for a while, Hunter, Parker, and I count it and call it “summer fun money.” It pays for ice cream on a hot summer day, a happy meal or two, and delights the boys for hours to toss pennies in the fountains in the mall. (Okay, may not hours, but at least a good thirty minutes if you ration the pennies right.)
Sometimes change is annoying. I’m not talking about the shiny kind. Instead, it’s what happens every day, every hour, every minute….change is occurring and there is nothing I can do about it. I used to think about what changes would occur in ten years. I envisioned my career and my family. After getting married and having kids, I shortened that number to five. After becoming a single parent, I started looking at one year.
Every year promises one thing--change. Other than God’s love, change is the only thing I can really count on. I know that everyone will get a little older and things won’t be the same. Sometimes I get nostalgic and miss the times when Hunter and Parker were little babies, just big enough to be cuddled and rocked. I think about when Hunter said his first words and Parker laughed a real laugh. I think of birthdays, Christmas, and memories made in what seemed like another lifetime. It is sometimes hard and weird to remember those times as I see pictures of myself from long ago. Even pictures of myself from five years ago don’t really look like me. I recognize the face, but I don’t really feel like that person anymore.
However, I am reminded of what is constant--God’s love for me--no matter what happens. I’m never without the One who has my best interest at heart. In Romans 8:39 in The Message Bible, it states, “I am absolutely convinced that nothing--nothing living or dead, angelic or demonic, today or tomorrow, high or low, thinkable or unthinkable--absolutely nothing can get between us and God’s love because of the way that Jesus our Master has embraced us.
Ecclesiastes 3:1 speaks of seasons in life by saying “There is an opportune time to do things, a right time for everything on earth.“ (The Message) In this season of my life, I am a mom to two incredible kids, a teacher to some remarkable students, a friend to some unique and loyal people, a daughter to compassionate parents, a sister to my hero (my sister), a cousin to my closest friend (my cousin), and the list goes on. This season is about finding who I am and who I want to be. It is not about gaining and earning, but breathing and living in a moment that is changing way too fast. Right now my boys hug and kiss on me like I’m better than warm chocolate chip cookies. Right now my parents play a vital role in my children’s lives. Right now cardboard boxes and Play-Doh are all part of pretty fabulous day. Right now a little bit of change under a pillow can delight a child--even if it’s just $1.25.
So I’ll take that change--all of it. The shiny kind and the not so sparkling kind--because I know that with growth, there must be change. In order for me to be who God wants me to be, I must grow and that means one thing--change. However, I will become what God has planned all along. He completes the good work in me that He has promised to do as He says in Philippians 1:6 “ There has never been the slightest doubt in my mind that the God who started this great work in you would keep at it and bring it to a flourishing finish on the very day Christ Jesus appears.“(The Message.) It won’t be easy. It won’t be painless. I’ll lose something as I gain other things. But as the Master works on me and helps me change, then the seasons will come and go and I’ll be alive in them. I’ll experience fully what each season brings. I’ll cherish the happy memories, cry over the sad moments, and laugh fully and wholeheartedly any chance I get.
I don’t know what changes the year 2008 will bring. I do know more teeth will be lost and a fairy will have to find $1.25 to put under a pillow. Just as Hunter and Parker have surprises to come, I know God has some pretty shiny and sparkling moments of change to come and surprise me, too. Best of all, I’ll shine like gold, as He purifies me and makes me into who He wants. I’ll sparkle and shine like a million diamonds, not just a $1.25.
Homesick
I stare at a blank computer screen. I type words that seem to fall onto the page and make a mirage of obscure angles and designs. I feel like this piece of paper--empty, incomplete, and void. My eyes hurt from too many tears. My hands shake as I try to put my emotions into words. You see, there seems to have been so much loss lately. A friend of mine just called to tell me his granddaughter was killed in a car accident. His heart is ripped and he is crying tears that won’t be wiped away.
Recently, I heard about a two-year-old killed, a lady who lost her husband and child in a car accident, and another young child who had drown in a swimming pool. Some of you may have experienced these losses. You may have been the one whose loved one has gone on to heaven. At this point, I want to say I’m sorry.
My mind explodes with questions of “why” and from those, I only get silence. I feel hollow and small. Life’s pressures suddenly become unimportant. Friends and family seem to glow like fire and I want to hang on to them, hug them, and love them like crazy. All the petty differences seem just that--petty.
Life can sometimes be so incredibly awful. The pain from devastating events, tragic losses, and outright unfairness of this world can be too much. I’ve written about change and how it is to come no matter what. Often, I don’t want change to come. I fight it, ignore it, and curse its name. I hate it. I really do.
When things like this happen, my faith is so tiny. I doubt, question, punch the wall, and fall into a heap. Some people have complimented me on the faith I seem to have. Notice the key word: ‘seem’. To be quite honest, I doubt my faith often. I question God about everything and in my fit of emotion, I don’t take time to listen to His answers.
I can’t understand why something like this happens. I look at the brevity of life, the flash of moments that accentuate time passing by. It’s in these moments that I long for God to come back and take us home.
Since I know His home is the best place to be, I don’t want God to leave anyone behind. I want Him to snatch us all up and whisk us away on a magic carpet.
As I walk through my new home that He has prepared, I’ll see my Paw Paw Evans wave as he pulls some peanuts from his incredible garden. My ears will pick up the sounds from The Kingsmen as my Paw Paw Bridges quietly nods his head my way. I find my former students Elyse, Kate, and Jennifer acting silly somewhere and I‘ll have to join in with their antics and then bear hug them all. I’ll see so many who still linger in my mind and who have shaped who I am.
Then I’ll see Him--the One who knows me like no one else. I don’t know what I’ll do when I am face to face with my Savior, but I envision myself running full force into his open arms. I imagine a lot of laughter that just makes my sides hurt. I see my kids, my family, my friends, and so many that I don’t know but somehow we all are just basking in the glow of completeness, oneness, and joyfulness. If my dogs are there, they’re licking me in the face, too.
Recently, I asked my students what they would do if they only had one year to live. The responses were fascinating. Then they turned the question toward me. I had a hard time answering it. After much thought, I decided that I just want to be the one who loves-- unconditionally and unselfishly. I want to love the One who truly loves me and takes care of me. I want this fleeting time on earth to be that glowing fire of love shown to everyone. I want what I do and say to simply radiate the love that can come only from God.
So now the mundane task to getting ready for work, waking the kids for school, and going through the day suddenly becomes an opportunity. Interacting with my students gives me the chance to let them know that Someone loves them greatly. Being with my kids allows me the opportunity to be someone who shows them unconditional love and who shares with them the real, everlasting love of Jesus. Living means looking for Jesus in everything and finding Him in the most unlikely places.
Even when my faith is so small, He is still faithful. He knows my heart and my struggles and loves me anyway. I cannot say that I can be like Abraham and lay my Isaac on the table. I want to hang on to Hunter and Parker and never let go. I want to cling to everyone special to me and not let anything happen to them. Then life happens and I realize I can’t hang on to them. I have to let go and let the One who created them take care of them. Here comes my little faith again.
I don’t understand when life, especially at such a young age, is lost. I don’t know why things like this happen. I understand it is part of life, but it is this part that makes me homesick even more. I long for the day when we are in a place with no tears, no death, no sickness. I long for evilness to disappear and reunions to occur.
If I truly believe God’s word, then I have to cling to the promise that nothing--absolutely nothing--will separate us from His love. “I’m absolutely convinced that nothing--nothing living or dead, angelic or demonic, today or tomorrow, high or low, thinkable or unthinkable--absolutely nothing can get between us and God’s love because of the way that Jesus our Master embraced us.“ (Romans 8:38, The Message) I have to keep my focus on His promise of preparing a place for us. “There’s plenty of room in my Father’s home. If that weren’t so, would I have said that I’m on my way to get a room ready for you? And if I’m on my way to get my room ready, I’ll come back and get you so you can live where I live.“ (John 14:2, The Message) I have to hold to the hope of a home for ones who suffered here on earth, ones who left too soon, and ones who were so close to my heart. I miss them. I long for the day to see them. But I rest in the fact that they are alive in Jesus and I don’t get to spend just a lifetime with them. I get to spend an eternity--forever--with them in a place with no hurts or heartaches, only laughter and sunshine.
I dedicate this article to those who have experienced loss--recently or a long time ago. May the ones who remain draw closer to the One who loves fully and carries us through everything. We’ll be home soon.
Recently, I heard about a two-year-old killed, a lady who lost her husband and child in a car accident, and another young child who had drown in a swimming pool. Some of you may have experienced these losses. You may have been the one whose loved one has gone on to heaven. At this point, I want to say I’m sorry.
My mind explodes with questions of “why” and from those, I only get silence. I feel hollow and small. Life’s pressures suddenly become unimportant. Friends and family seem to glow like fire and I want to hang on to them, hug them, and love them like crazy. All the petty differences seem just that--petty.
Life can sometimes be so incredibly awful. The pain from devastating events, tragic losses, and outright unfairness of this world can be too much. I’ve written about change and how it is to come no matter what. Often, I don’t want change to come. I fight it, ignore it, and curse its name. I hate it. I really do.
When things like this happen, my faith is so tiny. I doubt, question, punch the wall, and fall into a heap. Some people have complimented me on the faith I seem to have. Notice the key word: ‘seem’. To be quite honest, I doubt my faith often. I question God about everything and in my fit of emotion, I don’t take time to listen to His answers.
I can’t understand why something like this happens. I look at the brevity of life, the flash of moments that accentuate time passing by. It’s in these moments that I long for God to come back and take us home.
Since I know His home is the best place to be, I don’t want God to leave anyone behind. I want Him to snatch us all up and whisk us away on a magic carpet.
As I walk through my new home that He has prepared, I’ll see my Paw Paw Evans wave as he pulls some peanuts from his incredible garden. My ears will pick up the sounds from The Kingsmen as my Paw Paw Bridges quietly nods his head my way. I find my former students Elyse, Kate, and Jennifer acting silly somewhere and I‘ll have to join in with their antics and then bear hug them all. I’ll see so many who still linger in my mind and who have shaped who I am.
Then I’ll see Him--the One who knows me like no one else. I don’t know what I’ll do when I am face to face with my Savior, but I envision myself running full force into his open arms. I imagine a lot of laughter that just makes my sides hurt. I see my kids, my family, my friends, and so many that I don’t know but somehow we all are just basking in the glow of completeness, oneness, and joyfulness. If my dogs are there, they’re licking me in the face, too.
Recently, I asked my students what they would do if they only had one year to live. The responses were fascinating. Then they turned the question toward me. I had a hard time answering it. After much thought, I decided that I just want to be the one who loves-- unconditionally and unselfishly. I want to love the One who truly loves me and takes care of me. I want this fleeting time on earth to be that glowing fire of love shown to everyone. I want what I do and say to simply radiate the love that can come only from God.
So now the mundane task to getting ready for work, waking the kids for school, and going through the day suddenly becomes an opportunity. Interacting with my students gives me the chance to let them know that Someone loves them greatly. Being with my kids allows me the opportunity to be someone who shows them unconditional love and who shares with them the real, everlasting love of Jesus. Living means looking for Jesus in everything and finding Him in the most unlikely places.
Even when my faith is so small, He is still faithful. He knows my heart and my struggles and loves me anyway. I cannot say that I can be like Abraham and lay my Isaac on the table. I want to hang on to Hunter and Parker and never let go. I want to cling to everyone special to me and not let anything happen to them. Then life happens and I realize I can’t hang on to them. I have to let go and let the One who created them take care of them. Here comes my little faith again.
I don’t understand when life, especially at such a young age, is lost. I don’t know why things like this happen. I understand it is part of life, but it is this part that makes me homesick even more. I long for the day when we are in a place with no tears, no death, no sickness. I long for evilness to disappear and reunions to occur.
If I truly believe God’s word, then I have to cling to the promise that nothing--absolutely nothing--will separate us from His love. “I’m absolutely convinced that nothing--nothing living or dead, angelic or demonic, today or tomorrow, high or low, thinkable or unthinkable--absolutely nothing can get between us and God’s love because of the way that Jesus our Master embraced us.“ (Romans 8:38, The Message) I have to keep my focus on His promise of preparing a place for us. “There’s plenty of room in my Father’s home. If that weren’t so, would I have said that I’m on my way to get a room ready for you? And if I’m on my way to get my room ready, I’ll come back and get you so you can live where I live.“ (John 14:2, The Message) I have to hold to the hope of a home for ones who suffered here on earth, ones who left too soon, and ones who were so close to my heart. I miss them. I long for the day to see them. But I rest in the fact that they are alive in Jesus and I don’t get to spend just a lifetime with them. I get to spend an eternity--forever--with them in a place with no hurts or heartaches, only laughter and sunshine.
I dedicate this article to those who have experienced loss--recently or a long time ago. May the ones who remain draw closer to the One who loves fully and carries us through everything. We’ll be home soon.
Hands
I looked at my mother’s hands the other day. I watched how she took crayons and drew scribbles on paper and then took those shapes and made silly faces or happy scenes of ducks or dogs or smiling stars. Parker snickered at her pictures and Hunter chimed in with a “let me do it.” A piece of paper and wax crayons made a moment for my children that they may not remember. But I will remember it. I will remember the innocent play of Fisher Price toys. I will remember the simple comment of “you want to talk about it?” as I banged on the piano after a particularly bad day. I will remember the times she held me as my heart had been broken or when the weight of the world seemed to bear down on me.
My father’s hands may look different, but they show the same incredible love as my mother‘s. They quickly grab up Parker, my two-year-old, as he shouts, “Paw Paw!” Hunter, my six-year-old, often gives my dad a big “high five” after he reads a book with him. I can almost feel the smoothness of my father’s hands when he would hold my hand in church, playing with my fingers, measuring the size of my hand against his. No matter how old I get, his hands make mine seem tiny and weak, yet protected by his strength. They are connected to a tender heart, something I inherited from him, easily moved to laughter and tears.
Since I have been blessed with the role of being a parent, I often reflect on how my parents did what they did. I always knew I wanted to have children; I had no idea how challenging, difficult, yet joyous being a parent is. I sometimes wonder how any parent does what he or she does. After I became a single parent, I met other single parents who have lives that I am not envious of. In fact, these parents are ones who survive seemingly on their own with no help from any relative.
As Mother’s Day and Father’s Day approaches, I look at the hands who helped shape me into who I am today. Of course, sometimes those hands meant a swift pop to remind me who was in charge. I remember the hands who held on the back of my bike, keeping it steady so I could ride without training wheels. I remember the hands that helped me be a bit blonder each year. I remember those hands that stroked my hair when I was crying or hugged my shoulders out of sheer love. I recall the hands cooking meals, washing clothes, and painting bedrooms. I recall the hands that have paid for cars, clothes, and college tuition. Those hands have sewn curtains, dresses, and much-loved stuffed animals. Those hands have given me away, but never went away. Those hands have held me, both in their arms and in sincere prayer.
I know how much I love my children. My hands are used to shape who they are. I have a good idea about how much my parents love my children, too, as shown by their sacrifices for them as well as their general demeanor whenever they are with Hunter and Parker. Even though I love my family greatly, how much more does God love us! I realize I am sinful and selfish. He is blameless and perfect. His love is so much greater and higher than mine.
So I started looking at my Father’s hands. Isaiah 40:12 in The Message Bible says, “Who has scooped up the ocean in His two hands, or measured the sky between his thumb and little finger.” What incredible power God has! His hands are majestic and mighty. They make me feel very protected. They make me feel invincible, since not only is He incredibly strong, He believes in me. He doesn’t just think I’m fun to have around, or someone who can serve His needs. Instead, He wants me to be with Him. He is straining to reach me. He believes I can do all things through Him who will give me strength--the same strength that is able to hold the ocean in His hands.
Not only does His hands show his power, but they also show his incredible love for me. In Isaiah 49:16 in The Message, He says, “I’ve written your names on the backs of my hands.” The Creator of the Universe has MY name written on the back of His hands, in plain view, and on His mind. Incredible!
I love my parents dearly. I cannot express in words what they mean to me. Some of you may have parents who are no longer with you. Some of you may have never had a close relationship with your parents. Whatever your case with your parents, know that there is One who is the “father to the fatherless.” Know that nothing, absolutely nothing, can separate you from the love of God. No matter what this world brings us, be it death, separation, sickness, and a host of other struggles, God still remains. He lasts. It is such a comfort to know that the One who loves me without condition doesn’t change. He doesn’t grow old or give out or simply become someone else.
God gave me two incredible people as parents. As I was growing up, I would sometimes spend the night with a friend. I was always glad to come home to my parents. My friends would have nice parents, but they weren’t my parents. Sometimes my parents are quirky, weird, and even annoying, but I am those things, too. I am proud and thankful that they are my parents because I wouldn’t be the same without them.
For my parents, I put my hands together and clap in praise of a job well done. For my God, I raise my hands in praise, empty and worthless, but reaching out to the One who loves beyond reason, who continues to shape me with His wonderful hands.
My father’s hands may look different, but they show the same incredible love as my mother‘s. They quickly grab up Parker, my two-year-old, as he shouts, “Paw Paw!” Hunter, my six-year-old, often gives my dad a big “high five” after he reads a book with him. I can almost feel the smoothness of my father’s hands when he would hold my hand in church, playing with my fingers, measuring the size of my hand against his. No matter how old I get, his hands make mine seem tiny and weak, yet protected by his strength. They are connected to a tender heart, something I inherited from him, easily moved to laughter and tears.
Since I have been blessed with the role of being a parent, I often reflect on how my parents did what they did. I always knew I wanted to have children; I had no idea how challenging, difficult, yet joyous being a parent is. I sometimes wonder how any parent does what he or she does. After I became a single parent, I met other single parents who have lives that I am not envious of. In fact, these parents are ones who survive seemingly on their own with no help from any relative.
As Mother’s Day and Father’s Day approaches, I look at the hands who helped shape me into who I am today. Of course, sometimes those hands meant a swift pop to remind me who was in charge. I remember the hands who held on the back of my bike, keeping it steady so I could ride without training wheels. I remember the hands that helped me be a bit blonder each year. I remember those hands that stroked my hair when I was crying or hugged my shoulders out of sheer love. I recall the hands cooking meals, washing clothes, and painting bedrooms. I recall the hands that have paid for cars, clothes, and college tuition. Those hands have sewn curtains, dresses, and much-loved stuffed animals. Those hands have given me away, but never went away. Those hands have held me, both in their arms and in sincere prayer.
I know how much I love my children. My hands are used to shape who they are. I have a good idea about how much my parents love my children, too, as shown by their sacrifices for them as well as their general demeanor whenever they are with Hunter and Parker. Even though I love my family greatly, how much more does God love us! I realize I am sinful and selfish. He is blameless and perfect. His love is so much greater and higher than mine.
So I started looking at my Father’s hands. Isaiah 40:12 in The Message Bible says, “Who has scooped up the ocean in His two hands, or measured the sky between his thumb and little finger.” What incredible power God has! His hands are majestic and mighty. They make me feel very protected. They make me feel invincible, since not only is He incredibly strong, He believes in me. He doesn’t just think I’m fun to have around, or someone who can serve His needs. Instead, He wants me to be with Him. He is straining to reach me. He believes I can do all things through Him who will give me strength--the same strength that is able to hold the ocean in His hands.
Not only does His hands show his power, but they also show his incredible love for me. In Isaiah 49:16 in The Message, He says, “I’ve written your names on the backs of my hands.” The Creator of the Universe has MY name written on the back of His hands, in plain view, and on His mind. Incredible!
I love my parents dearly. I cannot express in words what they mean to me. Some of you may have parents who are no longer with you. Some of you may have never had a close relationship with your parents. Whatever your case with your parents, know that there is One who is the “father to the fatherless.” Know that nothing, absolutely nothing, can separate you from the love of God. No matter what this world brings us, be it death, separation, sickness, and a host of other struggles, God still remains. He lasts. It is such a comfort to know that the One who loves me without condition doesn’t change. He doesn’t grow old or give out or simply become someone else.
God gave me two incredible people as parents. As I was growing up, I would sometimes spend the night with a friend. I was always glad to come home to my parents. My friends would have nice parents, but they weren’t my parents. Sometimes my parents are quirky, weird, and even annoying, but I am those things, too. I am proud and thankful that they are my parents because I wouldn’t be the same without them.
For my parents, I put my hands together and clap in praise of a job well done. For my God, I raise my hands in praise, empty and worthless, but reaching out to the One who loves beyond reason, who continues to shape me with His wonderful hands.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
