Hospitality

At church on Sunday the sermon was about the parable of the banquet, where the invited guests are too busy (or too snobby?) to come, so the host invites all the outsiders who aren't usually considered worthy of such an invitation.

In the course of the talk, the pastor mentioned that the Greek word for hospitality, philoxenia, more literally translates to "love of the stranger."  An article from Sojourners goes even farther, explaining that the root word of xenia could also refer to enemies, not just strangers.

We are hosting an exchange student this year.  She is not an enemy.  She was a stranger only in the sense we had never met, but in reality has much in common with us.  We handpicked her because we thought she would fit in well with our family.

Some of the host families in our program are hosting Muslim students.  There are other families around the country who welcome refugees through programs like World Relief.  There are families who adopt children with a history of trauma or with disabilities and fragile medical conditions.

I can't imagine coping with those challenges, but that is because they aren't the tasks set before me.  I fully believe that if any one of those were set before me, the measure of grace and faith to walk in that path would be provided as well, just as it was when I was diagnosed with end-stage heart failure, and just as we are experiencing now.

When we first started talking about hosting an exchange student, I felt like I had my hands full already handling my own condition, my kids' energy and issues, and so on.  I wondered if we were crazy for thinking we could add another person to our household.  And yet, I felt convicted it was the right step to take.

On Friday, Anya arrived at the airport.  We were all so excited to see each other.  It was a very emotional moment with hugs and tears.  She feels like a member of the family.

We are exercising hospitality, and the measure of grace and faith needed is here at just the right time.  My kids are still a handful and all my other issues are all still in the mix, and yet somehow, surprisingly, I feel less overwhelmed than before.

I feel encouraged and challenged at the same time by these reflections.  I know I have a long way to grow to be truly hospitable, to embrace and welcome strangers and enemies eagerly and lavishly as I would a beloved relative.  I also know that it is God's will to conform me to the character of Christ, and His sanctifying work will continue to be done in my life.

Putting on the Armor of God

This summer I've been participating in Priscilla Shirer's Armor of God study.  On page 99, Priscilla poses the question:

How did the enemy take advantage of an upsetting, unexpected, chaotic event or circumstance to gain access to your life?

Well, I had a heart transplant 17 months ago.

It all happened quickly.  April 2014 I gave birth to my third baby and a week later was admitted to the hospital with congestive heart failure due to a genetic condition that I had been told wasn't very serious and most likely wouldn't be a problem.  Six months later, I learned that I needed a heart transplant to save my life.  Our family had to temporarily move four hours south to live with my parents a few months later as I waited for and recovered from the transplant.  Then we moved back and have been struggling to find the "new normal" since then.

How's that for an upsetting, unexpected and chaotic event or circumstance?

Those days of heart failure were hard to be sure, but at the same time, it was a beautiful time in my life.  I felt loved, supported, at peace and so very close to God.  It was pretty easy to be heavenly minded when the physical body was declining daily and rapidly.

My post transplant spiritual life has been rocky by comparison,

In the months after my transplant, I was recovering physical wellness, regaining energy, regaining strength almost daily.  I was on an emotional high, so happy and grateful to be alive.  I felt so very much better and could hardly believe there was any limit to how much better I could feel.  It seemed within reason that I was going to be "normal" very soon.

Hello, pride.

God had felt so near.  But slowly, He felt farther away.  Who moved?  That would be me.

Old struggles I thought were resolved cropped back up.  From my high school and college days, God had slowly and painstakingly brought me out of perfectionism, legalism, and the bad habit of measuring myself by my accomplishments or comparing myself to others.  In the past 17 months, I let those snares entangle me again.  I struggled mightily to meet my own expectations and the perceived expectations of others, and despaired when I failed.

Why couldn't I keep up? Maybe I was just lazy.... Maybe I needed to push myself harder.  Maybe I just needed better systems and strategies..  I pushed myself and berated myself for not being able to do and accomplish as much as I thought I should be able to do.

All along, the real and biggest problem was that my focus had moved off of Christ and onto myself, to my struggles and circumstances.  I felt irritable, short-tempered, selfish, restless, unbalanced, uncentered. I was half in denial about the limitations living with a transplant places on me, while also resenting those limitations at the same time.

The enemy had used his usual tactics of deception and hitting at my weak points to pull me down to be sure.


I missed the first three weeks of the Armor of God study due to serving at VBS and needing to get my blood drawn to verify my medicine levels.  Last week I went back through the first few weeks of lessons to catch up.

God's word does not return void and it came at just the right time to rescue me from the pit I had fallen back into.  It opened my eyes to the reality of the enemy and the way he works, but more importantly, reminded me about my spiritual identity and spiritual resources.

With a refreshed and renewed understanding of who I am in Christ, I've been able to better come to grips with the truth of my physical reality as well.

I'm accepting the fact that living with a transplant is like living with a chronic illness or condition.  This new level of acceptance sparked curiosity, and I set out to find out as much as I can about the whats and whys of limits.

Here's what I learned:

Although my new heart works so much better than my old thick, stiff, failing one did, it has specific limitations because of the nerve connections that were severed when the heart was transplanted.

The vagus nerve is the most efficient way for the body to adjust heart rate and blood flow as needed to accommodate for changes in activity level, body position, and external temperature.  But God designed a back-up plan: hormones from the adrenal gland.

But there is a catch: The hormonal pathways my body now uses to adjust my heart rate and blood flow is much slower to turn on and shut off than the nearly instant adjustments the nervous system can make.

As a result, I "feel the burn" sooner when exercising or doing heavy housework, and have more soreness afterward that lingers longer than it otherwise might .  Getting up from a seated or squatting position quickly causes momentary low blood pressure and dizziness, which can be bothersome when picking things up off the floor for example.  If I let myself get too cold, it seems to take forever for me to feel warm again,  More bothersome to me is how much lower my stamina is and longer my recovery time is when the weather is hot.


That is part of the terrain I am traversing.  Other features of my terrain are room for improvement in communication with my wonderful husband who has to work longer hours than I'd like, three active and intense children including a daughter with behaviors on the autism spectrum (we are in the midst of evaluations for a diagnosis) ... those are other features of my terrain.

God is with me, and has not left me helpless or defenseless in the face of these circumstances.  He has blessed me with every spiritual blessing in the heavenlies, but I have to activate them. Richard A. Burr came up with a clever acronym: Prayer Releases All Your Eternal Resources.

Asking for what I need with gratitude relieves anxiety and promotes peace.  I can cast my cares on Him because he cares for me.        

God has been faithful and good through it all.  Here are a few ways he has provided and blessed me:

In my search for truth, I was led to a website for Christians with chronic illness: Rest Ministries.  There I found beautiful words of vulnerability and dependence on God in the midst of suffering.  The prayer cards they offer for download there have been helpful to me as well.

A sibling rivalry e-course by Connected Families we started last month is equipping our family with practical ways to use the shoes of peace in our family relationships.

These months have not been wasted.  Some of what seemed like backward movement may have been necessary to clear the way for new growth in the future.  Certainly, the process of re-evaluating who I am has led to a better certainty and understanding of my gifts and callings.  Creative communication and teaching along with hospitality, which I share with my husband, round out my top three.

This blog is one way to live out my calling.  Opening my home to host La Leche League meetings starting next month is another.  And last but certainly not least, my husband and I will be exercising our shared gift of hospitality by welcoming an exchange student into our family for the coming school year.

I'll be back soon to share more about my journey and what I'm learning from God's graceful discipline.

Heart Failure to Transplant: Hesed

I posted the following to my CaringBridge journal on Oct 21, 2014

Hesed is a Hebrew word for God's lovingkindness.

He pours it out on me through His people that He has provided as my community of support and love.

MOPS gave me $100 gas card, which will help ease the pinch from extra travel related to my many appointments.

Polly has been a godsend. She even has recruited a friend to come help her with cleaning.

Corrie did some shopping for me.

The MomsNext members of MOPS are planning a service project to help me with cleaning next week.

My church offered to set up a meal train for two meals per week through December 31.

My MOPS table leader April is coming over to watch Zachary for me to make the trip to Selma for Elliott's 6month checkup easier on me.

This and prayers and encouragement.

Heart Failure to Transplant: My Heart is His

The heart condition I mentioned in There is too much to 'splain... took a bit of a turn for the worse in September, and I grappled with coming to terms with the full extent of my diagnosis.  I posted details of that at my new CaringBridge site.

This morning I woke up early and felt drawn to look at my copy of Jesus Calling, and as it often does, today's entry hit me right where I am, especially this portion:

Instead of regretting or resenting the way things are, thank Me in all circumstances. Trust Me and don't be fearful; thank Me and rest in My sovereignty.

At the bottom of the entry are three Bible verses, including 1 Peter 5:6-7.  I got out my Bible and a notebook that was handy.

I opened the notebook and found some journal entries and notes from 2011 when I was pregnant with Zachary, and rediscovered a structure for quiet time that had been taught to me by Kenton Beshore, the senior pastor at Mariners Church. 

It uses 3 four-letter acronyms: PERS, SOAP and ACTS.

I am a PERSon... how am I doing?
Physically?
Emotionally?
Relationally?
Spiritually?

I answered each of those questions, thinking mainly about yesterday and this morning, and identified that although I had a good day physically, some anxiety, loneliness and self-pity had crept in, as well as disconnection in my relationships.

Then I turned to the cleansing SOAP of God's word:
Scripture
Observation
Application
Prayer

For the Scripture I wanted to use 1 Peter 5:7, cast all your anxiety on the Lord, but I "accidentally" turned to 1 Peter 1:5-6:

This inheritance is kept in heaven for you, ⁵ who through faith are shielded by God’s power until the coming of the salvation that is ready to be revealed in the last time. ⁶ In all this you greatly rejoice, though now for a little while you may have had to suffer grief in all kinds of trials.

For the Observation portion, I just restated the Scripture in my own words, and wrote about how in general it related to the Jesus Calling message to be thankful and trust in all circumstances.

For the Application, I made the observations more personal, reflecting on what I specifically needed to do in light of that...namely, to thank God for my heart condition.

For the Prayer, I chose to follow the ACTS model:
Adoration
Confession
Thanks
Supplication

I praised Jesus as Lord of All and the Healer, I confessed my self-absorption and fear.  Then I did the hard, strange part and thanked Him for my cardiomyopathy, for my heart failure, for my difficulty breathing.  What is there to be thankful for about that? 

It makes the truth that God gives me breath and life very real and immediate.  It presses me to trust and depend on Him more than ever.  It limits my ability to do everything I want to do so I need to seek Him more for wisdom and discernment about what He would have me be doing.  Not only do I feel the need of my Savior all the more, but having been forced to slow down because of my condition, I have time and space in my life to respond to his invitations to seek Him. 

After writing out those praises, confessions and thanks, the Supplications I made were quite different than what I would have said had I started my prayer with a request. 

I'm thankful that God woke me up early this morning to spend that time with Him, that He reminded me of PERS, SOAP and ACTS.  I share it because I hope it might be useful for your own quiet times with Father, Son and Spirit.

"Trust Me"

In early August, I had a dream.  In the dream, a friend told me not to be scared, that I would have "a September baby."  When I had that dream I realized that even though I'd been hoping and praying each month to be pregnant again, part of me also drew a sigh of relief when it didn't happen.  No pregnancy meant no risk of miscarriage.  I began to work through that fear in the month that followed.

On September 4 a few days before I was expecting my period, I had a little spotting that seemed to taper off.  Implantation bleeding?  I wondered.  After three negative home pregnancy tests, my period started full force on September 7.   

I shared this story with my therapist.  She encouraged me that in order to get pregnant I would have to work on letting go of my anxiety around getting pregnant.  By hoping too much, anxiously worrying and fretting over every twinge and sign my body gave me, I actually created stress that made the environment of my body less hospitable to life.  

My hyper-focus on getting pregnant ironically made getting pregnant less likely.  

She advised me to shift my focus to simply enjoying spending time with my husband and let things happen more naturally.  I took what she said to heart.  

Toward the end of September, I noticed some changes in my body.  I was getting up to pee in the middle of the night.  My breasts were getting bigger and my nipples were a darker pink.  Based on the 9/7 date for the start of my last cycle, I wasn't expecting my period until October 2, but based on how I felt I decided to test on September 29.  (9/29 was the day my period would have been due based on the 9/4 start date, and looking back, I think I should have counted 9/4 as the first day of my last menstrual period all along).  

While I was performing the test, C walked in to the bathroom.

"Is God sending our baby back?" she asked.

I said that I didn't know yet.

C sat down on the bathroom floor and started mumbling to herself.  I didn't realize she was praying until she stood up and said "Amen." 

"God said yes!" she announced.

I looked down at the test.

I could barely see a second pink line.  Was I imagining it?  Was it wishful thinking?

A test later that day showed a darker second line and I dared to believe that yes, I am pregnant.

In the weeks since then, I've swung between confidence that I will certainly meet this baby in June and a sense of doom that another miscarriage is inevitable.

I held my breath as I passed the 5 week mark where I lost Audrey Hope last year.  When that day came and went, I went to a clinic to have the pregnancy confirmed and the doctor said she wanted to schedule a pap smear and an ultrasound "to confirm viability and dates."  She told me to come back in two weeks.

The days leading up to the appointment were the most stressful yet.  I imagined worst case scenarios.  Maybe the ultrasound would show an ectopic pregnancy.  Maybe the baby had stopped growing but my body didn't know it yet.  

I'd shared the news of my pregnancy with friends and family early on to get prayer support.  I'd asked everyone I could think of for prayer for this ultrasound and my own peace.

By the Thursday morning of the appointment, the prayers for peace had done their work.  My anxieties and fears had (mostly) melted away and I felt excited to see the little heartbeat.

When we were called back, a nurse took my blood pressure and weight and had me pee in a cup.  Then she led us to an office.  She said she had some questions before we saw the doctor.  One of her first questions was, "Do you have an appointment for a pap and dating ultrasound?" 

I was confused. Wasn't that what I was there for?  No; that day's appointment was an intake interview and blood tests.  Apparently there had been some miscommunication with the original doctor.  The pap is now scheduled for November 11, and there may or may not be an ultrasound at that point.

After the initial disappointment of not getting to see the baby as I had hoped dissipated, I began to wonder why God had answered the prayers this way.  

The clear answer was a simple: "Trust Me."

So as of today, October 31, I'm exhausted all the time.  I pee all the time.  I'm frequently hungry but get full after just a few bites.  I'm experiencing food aversions and nausea and heartburn more intense than I remember from my pregnancy with C.  

I'm eight weeks and one day pregnant and grateful for every day.

Gratitude: Focus on the Positive

I had my second therapy appointment today. My therapist suggested that I shift my focus to the positive and good things when I'm feeling down. Sounds like a no-brainer suggestion but I definitely needed the reminder.

So, here's a list of positive things that I'm grateful for.

• My husband.  He is kind and gentle and sarcastic and hard-working.  He loves to serve and help out people in need.  He gives awesome massages.  He's always on my team and I love working on projects with him.  He listens and communicates pretty well and humbly accepts constructive criticism if I give it.  He loves musicals and going to the theater and traveling.  I love to spend time with him.
• My daughter.  She is a delight, from the top of her golden halo of curls to the bottom of her grubby little feet that sometimes kick us in our sleep.  She is sensitive, charming, imaginative, funny, determined, energetic, and bright.  She's friendly and says hi to everyone.  She catches on quickly and loves to be helpful.  We have fun together and it's a joy to be her mama.
• My husband's fabulous family. They are warm and loving and kind and have embraced me fully as one of their own.  I treasure the close relationships I'm developing with my mother-in-law and sisters-in-law and aunts-in-law. I'm blessed to live so close to them and see them all the time.
• A place to live and food on the table.  God has richly provided for all our needs since my husband lost his job last year.
• My new life in the country. I look out my window and see bunnies or birds in our field.  I have the opportunity to raise chickens and just started getting my first eggs in the past week!  I had my first vegetable garden and enjoyed squash and lettuce and tomatoes and onions and corn and strawberries I grew myself.  My neighbors have horses and goats and cows that I can enjoy visiting and not have to take care of!
• New friends.  I've been welcomed into this new community and have met some really wonderful people that I like and like me back, and I meet more all the time.  Connecting to women through online communities is a different but also valuable part of my social life.
• Old Friends.  Social networking has helped me keep in touch with and build even deeper relationships with dear women I knew in college as we share the ups and downs of marriage and joys and trials of motherhood.
• Breastfeeding. My body's ability to feed and grow a beautiful baby into a toddler was empowering and healed some body image issues for me and increased my confidence as a mother.  It has been a source of connection to other women as well and may be a source of a new purpose for advocacy and involvement in this season of my life.
• Creativity.  Whether it's making up a song to help with parenting or telling C silly stories or improvising a meal from ingredients I have on hand or writing this blog or drawing or painting or crafting or knitting or crocheting or sewing or playing the piano or putting together a fun outfit, my creativity is part of who God made me to be, and to paraphrase Eric Liddell, when I'm creative, I feel his pleasure.

More on DYT and a Mental Health Progress Report

A friend of mine blogged today about her own journey with Dressing Your Truth, how she found out about it and how it has impacted her at a level so much deeper than just dressing and feeling beautiful.

Check out Part 1 and Part 2!

Part One has a great overview of what Dressing Your Truth is, and Part Two goes into how understanding her nature and dressing accordingly has created some aha! moments for her.

This is one of my favorite sections:

I am not a "textbook" Type 1 - what I call bouncy balls and fireworks. Rather, I describe my energy as "a dreamer, head in the clouds" energy. It is still a very light, airy, full of ideas energy - but it also has a soft, gentle, graceful element to it. Think Belle in Disney's Beauty & the Beast. Thinking of it in that way allowed me to start to truly accept and embrace this part of my nature in a way I hadn't been able to before.

I love that!  The way she expresses her bright animated energy is influenced by a secondary soft subtle energy which makes it not quite as in your face as the Type One description sounds at first.  I didn't believe I could be a Type 1 because I didn't feel extroverted and loud and flashy enough.  But I'm my own kind of Type 1!  Although I loved the comparison to Belle, but my mind instantly went to another of my favorite fictional heroines, Anne of Green Gables!

I have to say since purging my closet of the black clothes and dark shaded/rich golden colors and bringing out and wearing my clothes with colors that pop, I've felt more me than I have in years.  The excitable bouncy clapping singing dancing joyful sublime silly whimsical me!  It may sound strange, but just changing the way I dress and accepting my bright animated nature has been deeply healing for me.  I don't have to censor myself and be more "grown up" or serious or somber than I am.  I don't have to beat myself up for not being someone else.

This is only one facet of my recovery from depression and anxiety.  Going public with my problem was one important step.  Deleting doomsday-type websites from my favorites and blogroll is another.  Meditating on Scripture and going through Celebrate Recovery to keep my focus on Christ as my source of hope and truth is the foundation of my recovery. 

All those intersected on Thursday.  One of my favorite verses is Zephaniah 3:17, and at a friend's suggestion I meditated on it Thursday night while singing "Revelation Song" at Celebrate Recovery.  God gave me a vision of me worshiping in the Throne Room and Him delighting in me living as who I was meant to be, and tears flowed and a burden of fear and anger lifted off my heart.

And, in the midst of it all, God is showing me a new path for me to embrace my passion for breastfeeding advocacy.  But that's another story for another blog post.

God's Discipline

I've heard it said that children form their first impressions of what God is like from their parents. Like most things we teach our kids, it's more about how we live and treat them than about what we say.

For example, I can say with my mouth that God is love and has grace for sinners, but if I also use that mouth to yell at and shame C for every perceived infraction and inconvenience I might feel she causes me, it might hinder her experiential understanding of that love and grace that I gave lip service to.

I want to do my best to faithfully represent God's character to my daughter and any other children I may have in the fuure with both my words and my actions.

So the question then is, what aspects of God's character can I imitate as a parent? What kind of parent is He? How does God respond to disobedience from His children?

Is God full of wrath and vengeance, looking for the slightest excuse to zap us with punishment?

Hundreds of years of history recorded in the Old Testament show us just the opposite. God is slow to anger, abounding in love. God warns and pleads and woos and relents at the least sign of repentance.

Christ's sacrifice on the cross is the ultimate unfolding of divine lovingkindness, mercy and grace.

God has every right to condemn and judge us or even to just leave us wallowing in the pain and agony we inflict upon ourselves, but instead, Christ came to take that judgment and set us free of the consequences of our sin.

God corrects, reproves and issues invitations to "Come let us reason together."

I've experienced this personally. During my my junior and senior year of college, I turned my back on the legalistic harsh taskmaster version of God I'd been exhausing myself striving to follow. God slowly wooed me to a deep understanding of his grace and lovingkindness.

That summer I lived in Youngstown, OH working as an intern at the copy desk of the local paper. God placed a longing in my heart for spiritual things that led me to stop the radio on a Christian station with grace-filled messages, a longing that led me to try to find a church to attend one Sunday. There a wonderful family welcomed me warmly and adopted me as an honorary family member for the summer. At the same time, a dear friend from college kept up a correspondence by mail with me. Her letters shone with gentle gratitude for God's goodness and grace that was contagious.

Yet I didn't immediately repent. I was entangled in a sexual relationship, and I wasn't ready to give it up. In fact, I went further off track, moving in with my partner the summer after college and reading up on zen Buddhism and other new age philosophies.

Fast forward a few months, when the relationship inevitably fell apart. God reached out to me through His people again. Instead of the expected judgment and I told you sos from my parents, they reminded me of the parable of the Prodigal Son, reminded me of the depth of God's grace and encouraged me that to come back to the faith.

By this point, I was once again living far from home, alone in a strange city. This time, I was in Miami, FL for graduate school. Again I felt the almost irresistable urge to find a church, and again I was adopted into the community. Though I still had some bad habits of partying, drunkenness and casual sex, God was patient with me. He led me to a small group Bible study and in the context of those deeper relationships, He started to heal my hurts and teach me more about His love. The more I understood his love, the more my bad habits became distasteful to me and fell away as naturally as a scab falling off when a wound is healed.

During that time, I did feel conviction from the Holy Spirit that was at times uncomfortable (though agonizing guilt and shame and lies of the enemy that I was damned for all eternity with no hope of redemption even if I repented were more often felt). Changing my lifestyle and breaking old habits and healing the wounds, some of which I had inflicted on myself, was painful at times.

In all this, God did not punish me. He even spared me some of the natural consequences of my actions. It was his kindness that ultimately led me to repentance.

That experience and others that followed so profoundly altered and deepened my understanding of grace that it touches every part of my life. It is a grace I must share and extend to others. I want everyone, but in particular my child, to understand and experience the depth and heighth and breadth of God's unfathomable grace.

52 Tool Cards: Control Your Behavior

Jane Nelsen writes on this tool card:

Example is the best teacher.

Do you expect your children to control their behavior when you don't control your behavior?

This card hit home this week.

Between grieving the due date that just past and dealing with my period and a touch of the stomach flu, I started the week with a short fuse. My self-control for limiting my consumption of media and keeping up with household chores was at an all-time low and the internet sucked up far too much attention that C needed and wanted.

When she whined and acted up to get my attention, I snapped at her. Truth be told, I snapped at her about almost everything on Monday and Tuesday. Even when I wasn't yelling, I had a nasty impatient tone to my voice whenever I spoke to her. C dished it right back to me, and I started to feel like I didn't like being around her much, which just perpetuated the cycle.

The Holy Spirit began gently nudging me. Would I like it if someone spoke that way to me? How could I get my anger under control? I felt convicted but didn't change much.

On Wednesday, the Holy Spirit used the Carnival of Gentle Discipline to nudge me a little harder. Specifically, a post from Positive Parenting: Toddlers and Beyond, Mirror Mirror in My Bed. I saw myself in that post, and it was humbling.

Then later that morning I randomly selected a tool card to see what I would be blogging about this week ... and Control Your Behavior came up.

Okay, Holy Spirit, I got the message. I repented of my attitude and behavior right then.

The card continues:

Create your own special time-out area and let your children know when you need to use it. If you can't leave the scene, count to 10 or take deep breaths. When you make mistakes, apologize to your children.

I apologized to C the next time I caught myself using that nasty impatient tone. (It was easy to tell, because she was using it right back at me!)

I apologized to her for yelling and using a mean voice. "I don't like speaking like that to each other. Let's start over with kind, pleasant voices and words."

There is so much I know about parenting from reading, but putting it into practice is a different story. For example, I know that children are wired to learn by imitating models.

As Becky Bailey writes in Easy to Love, Difficult to Discipline,

Yet we often demand that children acquire skills that we ourselves lack ... Parents yell, "Go to your room until you are in control of yourself." A mother grabs a toy that two preschoolers are tussling over and says "You know better than to grab toys from your friends. It's mine now!"

It's so easy to default to not controlling myself, to yell, to grab, to react blindly instead of thoughtfully and creatively responding to the situation at hand. On a related note, check out this humorous post from Demand EUPHORIA.

To succeed at gentle discipline demands personal growth on my part. My friend Dulce de Leche , in another post from this week's Carnival of Gentle Discipline put it so well:

At first when we decided to commit to gentle discipline, I only thought in terms of my children and their behavior. I had no idea how deeply it would change me. I have been forced to deal with a lot of things that I would have preferred to cover up. Things like pride. Anger. Unhealthy boundaries. Self-centeredness. I have had to do some major weeding in my own heart. And that is a very good thing. If spanking had been part of my parenting tool box, it would have been so easy for me to justify revenge on my children for not catering to my pride, for exposing my anger or impatience or even for not being convenient at times.

Being gentle can be very hard work! But I know from posts like Dulce's that the work is well worth it. I've already seen some fruit from our efforts, and can't wait to what more is in store!

Never Forget His Faithfulness

Just over a year ago, I almost lost my daughter in a vehicle vs. pedestrian accident in a driveway.

I shared some of the immediate raw emotion from that here.


Today, all eight of the two-week-old chicks I've been raising were killed by my dog. I sobbed uncontrollably when I found them and as I worked with my husband to clean up the scene.

Was my reaction way out of proportion to the cause? After all, they were just chickens.

I'm wondering if something more is going on. Could it be that in a way I'm processing leftover emotion from last year's trauma through this?

Whatever the case, this small tragedy is an excellent reminder to look back and praise God once again for preventing an unthinkable tragedy by saving C's little life last year.

What grace that I got to enjoy another twelve months watching her grow, hearing her learn to talk and sing, hear her say "I love you" and ask for hugs and kisses. Three hundred and sixty five more days of nursing her at my breast, cuddling her to sleep and waking up beside her every morning.

Praise the Lord whose lovingkindness endures forever!!

I think I will publish the story of her accident and recovery in this space in the coming days so others may know of what He did for us.

Encouragement through Discouraging Times

I have so much to be thankful for.  So much that is going well: my physical and emotional health are better since going gluten free.  I completed revisions of my novel and am getting great feedback from beta readers.  I have a beautiful daughter, terrific husband.  My garden is thriving, and the caring for the baby chicks I bought this week and planning for their housing has become a very fun family project. 

And yet, there are a few areas where I can tend to get discouraged.

Trying to conceive our second child, for instance.  Woke up this morning to the evidence that we will have to keep trying.

Another is my husband's efforts to build an insurance business.  He's working hard, talking to lots of people, but his efforts are slow to bear fruit. 

And, last but not least, the daily grind of the small tasks of household management and mothering provide plenty of fodder for discouragement.  The bed needs to be made ... again.  The toddler made a mess ... again.  My firm and kind response to a typical toddler behavior wasn't a miracle cure ... she's still a toddler and I need to provide that same kind and firm response the next time it happens, even if it's minutes later.

It's easy to lose focus and get tired and discouraged!

I love how God speaks through others to deliver a word to us right when we need to hear it. 

This morning's sermon drew from 1 Kings 19.  Elijah just finished the battle on Mount Carmel with the prophets of Baal.  God won, and for a brief moment it looked like the people's hearts and even Ahab's heart might be turning back toward God.  Then, Jezebel puts out a death warrant for Elijah and he runs for his life. 

From the highest high he goes to the lowest low, a fugitive alone out in the wilderness, praying to God that his life would end now. 

As James says, I'm of like nature or like passion with Elijah.  How many times have I been in the same place, sitting under my figurative broom tree, having a pity party because things didn't turn out like I planned, feeling alone in my efforts.   My lament is similar to his:  "I've had it!" "I give up!"  "I'm the only one doing XYZ!  Doesn't anyone help out around here?" "Is this really what you want Lord if there's no fruit?"
   
That kind of discouragement comes when I focus on my own efforts and my own expectations of what results those efforts should yield.  It comes when I despise the small things and think I'm ready to move on to bigger things. 

God's response is to Elijah is so tender, so gentle.  He sends the angel of the Lord to touch, feed, and minister to Elijah.  He graciously shows Elijah that indeed he is not alone in serving Him. 

God has called me to be faithful with the small things he's given me.  To love my husband body and soul and accept whatever children He blesses us with in His time.  To pray for, encourage and support my husband as he builds his business and make it possible for him to focus on that by how I manage my share of the household work.  To do my part and trust God to do His part.

That truly encouraged me this morning, and I share it here to solidify it in my own heart and in the hope it may encourage someone else.

Abba

This Father's Day, the message at church focused on how men can be good fathers because God is such an awesome father to us.

The pastor told this story to illustrate.

He saw a father and young son together on a flight to Israel. The son was playing in the aisle when some turbulence struck.

"Abba! Abba! Abba!" the child cried and ran as fast as he could back to his father's safe, waiting arms. Abba is Hebrew for Daddy or Papa.

That intimacy, that child-like faith is what Paul means when he says we have a Spirit of sonship that allows us to cry, "Abba, Father."

It got me thinking of all the different intonations a child can use when saying "Daddy!"

Joy - rejoice with me Daddy!
Fear - protect me Daddy!
Curiosity - teach me Daddy!
Confusion - which way, Daddy?
Awe - you're amazing Daddy!
Relief - there you are Daddy!

What a privelege we are given to call God our Abba Father!

Grace in our Trauma

Pookaloo was hit by a van on Saturday, May 1st. There were scary moments when we didn't know how bad it was. She turned blue and couldn't keep her eyes open on the way to the hospital, and once we got there she was very still. X-rays and a CT scan showed pulmonary contusions and pelvic fractures.

PRAISE GOD that by some miracle she is ok. Her lungs are already healed, and she has begun to crawl and even walk again.



Trauma comes with so many emotions.

Fear. Guilt. Relief. Joy.


It happened so fast and now she's well on the road to recovery but our emotions are still raw, throbbing, bleeding and demanding care and attention. How odd that the ordinary rhythms of the world and daily march forward when I want to hit pause and rewind until I've processed it all.


Fear. We almost lost her. The line between alive and dead is so thin. We are so vulnerable and what we think is ours could be snatched away in a moment. A moment of inattention led to this result and I want to swear eternal vigilance, but I know that there will be more moments of inattention because I am only human. I'm not ultimately in control, I don't have the power over life or death.

Guilt. I was there and had just put her down and turned my back to do something I thought was important. What could be more important than keeping my precious daughter safe? Now in the aftermath, she needs so much from me and I am starting to feel drained and resentful and then I feel guilty about that.

Relief, Joy and Gratitude. She's alive! She's healing rapidly! She's thriving! I still get to be her mama! God saved her! God healed/is healing her! Every smile, every giggle, every cuddle overwhelms me with joy that leaks out of my eyes.


Pookaloo has to process the trauma too. How scared and confused she must have been. How frustrated she is now to be able to walk only slowly with a limp, when before this she was running, jumping, climbing.


God has continually extended grace to me in this situation. A warm chaplain who immediately offered absolution for the guilt I expressed. A handmade blanket made by an anonymous donor through Project Linus that comforted Pookaloo in the ER. A message of hope and forgiveness at Bible study. An encouraging word from a dear aunt who was in a similar situation many years ago.

Grace is abounding. I need only to continually receive God's grace for myself and extend it to Pookaloo as we both are extra fragile and healing.

Father's Love Letter

Last night our Bible study talked about Romans 12:1 in the context of worship. How we are to worship God with our whole lives, and not just for a prescribed time on Sundays or even just a special quiet time during the day.

Today I was thinking about the following verse, Romans 12:2

Do not conform any longer to the pattern of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind. Then you will be able to test and approve what God's will is--his good, pleasing and perfect will.

We are to renew our minds by filling it with truth. Meditating on who God is and who we are in Him.

At another Bible study on Tuesday, I was introduced to the Father's Love Letter. It's a paraphrase of many of the Bible's great verses on God's passionate, intimate love for us, written like a personal letter. There are so many great truths there that I needed to be reminded of.

• That God has every day of my life written in His book and knows all the times and seasons. We may not know where we will be living in a month or three months, but He does.
• That God can do more for us than we can possibly imagine. Building a business as an insurance agent in some ways seems risky, but we have been diligently seeking His will and if this is it, he will be the best business partner we could ask for.
• That He comforts us in our troubles. I don't have to pretend that this situation isn't stressful or that I'm completely at peace. Like David in the Psalms, and Jesus in the garden, I can cry out to God in the pain of this uncertainty and receive comfort.

My Writer's Biography

Growing up, I always wanted to be a writer. At five I had a dog-eared notebook in which I penned one page epics with titles like “Mystery Martian and the Lost Glove.” My story about how the catfish got its whiskers represented the 5th grade class in the school anthology.

Schoolwork was always very easy for me, and the only reason I didn’t keep a 4.0 GPA was that I often “forgot” to do the homework. Throughout high school, I fought off boredom by scribbling down whimsical children’s stories or illustrations during my least favorite classes (physics and government).

Then, as graduation approached, my school chum Robert Chang challenged me to live up to my potential.

“For most people, placing 7th in their class is an accomplishment, but for you it’s just sad,” he said, half joking. “We both know you could have been valedictorian if you wanted to, Margaret. Think what would happen if you really applied yourself? There’s no reason why you can’t get straight “A”s from now on.”

I took his challenge seriously, which to my all-or-nothing mind meant no more daydreaming. Once college started, I put the kibosh on scribbling down story ideas in class. Other than a prayer journal that I used intermittently to process the daily onslaughts to my faith from the secular humanism that surrounded me, the ink stopped flowing for two years.

In my third year of college, my creativity enjoyed a brief resurgence, sparked by the creative writing and journalism courses that were part of my English major. My work got rave reviews from the professors. I worked as a summer intern at the copy desk of the Youngstown Vindicator, and even had two play reviews published with my byline. My last year at Muskingum, I allowed creativity back into my life. Having completed most of my graduation requirements, I chose only “fun” classes for my last two semesters of college, courses such as The History of Film, Lyric Theater and Introduction to Drawing in addition to my English classes. I worked as the copy editor of the campus newspaper, the senior section editor of the campus yearbook, and the editor in chief of the campus literary magazine.

Yet this success was clouded as my faith went into a tailspin. I became involved in an intense relationship with a subtly controlling man. He proposed within six weeks of our first meeting, and a few months later, I willingly gave him my virginity. Satan turned the conviction of the Holy Spirit into tremendous condemnation, guilt and shame. I had always wanted to live to please God, but now he seemed distant and demanding. By contrast, the prevailing culture of “an ye harm none, do as you will” on campus felt safe, sane and reasonable. I now welcomed the slings and arrows of my relativistic culture, taking comfort in them as I tried to redefine God in my own image. I couldn’t quite bring myself to believe there wasn’t a God, but I also couldn’t live with the judgment of the one I had grown up believing in. Maybe if what I had always believed about God and His ways wasn’t true, maybe I wasn’t a wretched human being.

That year was bittersweet. The enjoyment I gained from my involvement in the world of the arts was always tainted by the painful separation from my Creator. Too, I harbored an irrational belief that this burst of creativity was my last hurrah. I equated creativity and the arts with play, and after graduation I would have to give up such frivolous pursuits and be serious.

Too, despite the encouragement of my writing and art professors to further develop my skills and explore my talent, I feared deep down that I wasn’t good enough to make a living at it. Reinforcing that belief and playing on my fears, the boyfriend suggested I was best suited to go into business. Having pushed God out of my life, I let the man I loved become god to me and swallowed every word he said.

So, choosing money and financial security over passion, I enrolled in an MBA program at the University of Miami. The coursework didn’t challenge me mentally, and I once again began to daydream, sketching my fellow classmates or writing short stories rather than listen to the lecture.

“What am I doing here when my heart is so obviously somewhere else?” I wondered in the margins of my notes. I toyed with the idea of quitting, but then the boyfriend broke off our engagement with cruel, devastating words that shattered the last vestiges of my self-confidence.
My well of creativity dried up as I told myself “I have nothing to say worth hearing.”

I felt stuck. I believed it was too late to change course. I had gone $30,000 into debt to foot the bill of the first year of the MBA program, and I wasn’t about to give up that much money without walking away with a degree, even if it did cost me another $20,000. Feeling lost and hopeless, I partied with my fellow MBA students as an escape, overindulging in alcohol which occasionally led to casual sex.

Somewhere in those months, I started to go to church again. Someone I met through AOL Personals invited me to a Bible study at his house, and I attended faithfully. Hungry for God and community, I didn’t stay away even if I had sinned the night before. Slowly but surely, God drew me back to his side, and my hedonistic lifestyle began to lose its appeal.

After graduation in 2001, I entered the working world. The dot-com bubble had just burst, followed swiftly by the tragedy of 9/11, and I took whatever job I could get in the shaky employment market. An internship researching apartment sales for a prosperous team of brokers turned into full-time work, and I ended up working for five years as a Marketing Specialist for various commercial apartment brokers. An unexpected extra blessing, the job required a lot of writing and even some graphic design skills. Still, something was missing.

During Lent of 2003, I went through the 40 Days of Purpose curriculum with my church. Rick Warren’s insistence that I had been made for a purpose struck a chord. As the program drew to a close, my purpose became clear: I was to use my creative talents for God’s glory.

I plotted out an ambitious three-volume roman-a-clef or biography that would show God’s work in my life, but when I sat down to work on it further, found myself unable to write a single sentence. Paralyzed by self-doubt and a life-long tendency to procrastinate, I put the idea for my life’s work aside. With the long hours required by my job, I didn’t have much time to work on it anyway.

God continued to show me His love in extravagant ways until I finally understood that it wasn’t a matter of earning his love with my good works or lack of sin. He loved me so much he gave me His righteousness so we could be reconciled. On Easter morning, I chose to be baptized to solidify that fact in my mind.

God began to move in a mighty way in my life from that moment. He opened a path for me to leave Miami and return to my hometown in Southern California, where I met a gentle yet strong man who loves the Lord as I do. A year later, we were married. Eventually, after much prayer, we decided together that I would leave my high-stress job as a Marketing Specialist and go to work as a corporate proposal writer.

More importantly, God gave me courage to seek counseling to heal the lingering hurts from my past relationships and bad choices. As a result, I found my voice. In 2007 I began to write, with the goal of completing a novel by my 30th birthday. I didn't quite get there, but by the end of 2007, I had 60,000 words written of that novel I plotted out in 2003.

As most first drafts are, it’s quite messy and I'm currently stuck on how to complete it. It's also frustrating to see how rusty my writing skills became from lack of use. But although I have put that particular project on the shelf, writing is still part of my life. I've completed a children's story based on the healing of my dog's broken back, and I've brainstormed ideas for and even plotted out several other projects.

Last September I had precious baby girl. She is sensitive and spirited to say the least and it has taken much of my creative energy to nurture her and figure out ways to juggle career, motherhood and housekeeping.

That brings us up to today. I'm about to embark on a new era. The season for the proposal writing job has come to an end, and I am about to transition to life as a Work at Home Mom. I want to increase the role of writing in my life. I'm writing this blog, and will continue to do so. But I need more. The sheer joy of creative writing is beckoning to me. I want to imagine deeply and see what worlds emerge from my pen. I still believe God has a purpose for my life, to use my story (and stories!) for His glory.

Breathing and Eating with God

Did you know that God still speaks? It doesn't take special quaifications to hear from Him. Just a quiet moment so the still small voice can come through.

How do you know if it is God speaking or just your own crazy thoughts?

I once had an insight that I shared at a women's Bible study led by my good friend Bridgette (love you!):

I know what my own thoughts and way of talking to and about myself sounds and feels like. It's familiar to me. God's voice is different, refreshing. The guest speaker at my church last Sunday put it very succinctly:

God is much kinder to us than we are to ourselves!

Here's something I wrote down in my prayer journal once when I was practicing active listening with God. I started off by saying something like, "Speak, Lord for your servant is listening."

Here is what I heard back:

I am God. Be still and know that I am God. It’s my righteousness that flows through you.

Consider that air, water, food, are all your physical body needs to live.

Life with me is like breathing. Your body does that without you even thinking about it. So too am I beside you without you thinking about it. No striving. Just turn and talk to me, smile at me, cry with me.

I long to take you into my arms and care for you. Hear my call to you. Open your eyes and see me. Open your ear.

Eat my word, don’t fast from it. You get hungry three times a day, and even snack. So too can you feast on me. Eat and you shall be filled. Open yourself. I am the bread of life.

You need me to live. Apart from me, you can do nothing.

I love you. More than you can understand, I long for you just as you long to be with the ones you love now. Tell me about it. Talk to me.

I am here. I am God. I choose you.

Now is the time for you to listen, to learn, to teach, to reach out. Don’t waste the time! I don’t want anyone to be left behind. I love them too.

Receive my forgiveness. Don’t be so stubborn. Open yourself to me. I know you even when you hide, so why not open yourself so you can know Me also?

God is there. Like it says in Revelations, Jesus is standing at the door of your heart and knocking. That verse was written to believers. How awesome a privelege is it that we can have such intimacy with the Triune God?