Set Right  4

The muffled sobs coming from the other room break my heart.

And yet I know that they must occur in order to heal.

As I listen, I suddenly realize that this is what my parents meant when they said, “This hurts me more than it hurts you.”

I saw it coming: the words, the disobedience, the defiance.  I prayed in my heart that it wouldn’t escalate, but my gut knew the path we were on.

I wish I knew how to handle the emotion.  I wish this were a “how-to” post, so I could proclaim to the world that I have this discipline thing nailed.

P.S.  I don’t have it nailed.  Not even close.

I have learned that shouting matches rarely accomplish anything, even though they make me feel better.   So, when my patience is strong, I sit and I wait with her.  I stay silent, I do not make eye contact.  Those things will come.

And in the calm after the storm, there is sometimes a glimpse of a rainbow.  Emphasis on sometimes.

About a year ago, after the battle had raged, I asked Kate about her feelings and what happens when she feels the anger boil up in her.  It’s something I am striving to understand– I was not strong willed like she is; I also didn’t have a sister die.  This combo proves toxic.  I want to know how to help her, how to steer her in the right path, how to protect that strong will and bend it in the right direction.

Kate looked at me with her big, brown eyes, and very stoically told me, “Mom, when I feel angry, I ask Jesus out of my heart.  When I’m feeling better, I just ask Him back in.”

Come again?

I didn’t know what to do with that statement.  Honestly, the thought had never occurred to me.  I sat there, totally speechless, part of me wanting to laugh at the creativity of my daughter, another part of me genuinely concerned about her developing theology.
I’ve heard sanctification described as a dimmer switch.  When we ask Jesus into our hearts, He begins to show us areas in our lives that need a little work (or a lot of work!).  And slowly, as we process more and more, He turns up the light a little more and a little more.
All of a sudden, we see something over in the corner that we hadn’t realized was there.  We notice an issue we thought we had pushed so far back in our mind that it wouldn’t reappear again.  We take a deep breath and face it head on.  And all the while, God is there with us.  He doesn’t expect us to clean up the mess while He watches us with the eagle eye in the far corner. He promises to be right there, helping us, guiding us, loving us. 
This renewing our minds?  It doesn’t happen in an instant.  Transformation in our actions, interests, and attitudes is a process and it’s often painful.  As I get older, I realize that the transformation is deeper, as I begin to explore my motives and I ask questions of why I do what I do.  My sins become less about what I’ve done (lying, cheating) and more about the attitude of my heart (selfishness, envy, gossip).  Not only does sin become more painful to confess, it’s also easier to keep secret.
Kate’s statement on that day was probably a very age-appropriate response to her understanding of God.  In her mind, she knew she was doing something wrong and she didn’t want to disappoint God in her actions.  So she took Him out of the equation.
Kate’s conversation that day has replayed many times and is helping me to pinpoint times in my life that I ask God to politely step aside and let my own humanness take over.  I see how I let myself take over, assuming that when the moment passes, I’ll ask Him back in, expecting Him to forgive me in the process.  And how this must grieve Him!
I’ve been reading Romans 4 several times a week for the past few weeks.  It’s changing me and changing the way I think and act.  
“What we read in Scripture is, ‘Abraham entered into what God was doing for him, and that was the turning point.  He trusted God to set him right instead of trying to be right on his own.'” 
Romans 4:3, The Message
I so desperately want to get it right on my own– to prove to God that I’m good enough for Him to love.  I want Him to see the shining moments in my life where I do the right thing, and I don’t want Him to be invited when things aren’t so great.  But I’ll never get anywhere with that kind of theology.  
I want to live in a way that believes God is setting me right– not because of any good thing I’ve done, but because of His sacrifice for me.  I want to dare to trust God to use me to do something huge, not because of some talent or random opportunity, but because God has called me to be somebody when I was a nobody.  
“That’s why it is said, ‘Abraham was declared fit before God by trusting God to set him right.’  But it’s not just Abraham; it’s also us! The same thing gets said about us when we embrace and believe the One who brought Jesus to life when the conditions were equally hopeless.  The sacrificed Jesus made us fit for God, set us right with God.”  
Romans 4:22-25, The Message
What I want to tell Kate– what I want to tell you and me– is that we don’t have to hide our ugly tantrums from Him.  We don’t have to worry that He’ll be embarrassed of our behavior or anger.  And even if we ask Him to leave, He won’t.  He wants us all, He loves us just that much.  And if we could just see what trusting Him could do, our lives would be changed.  Only He can take the horrible mess we’ve made of our lives and set us right.
Believe who God says you are.  Trust Him to do what only God can do.
(Kate’s story has been shared with her permission. Oh my, I do love her heart.) 🙂

Currently  1

So.  I guess I took the summer off of blogging.  As it turns out, I only have enough brain cells to occupy three very active children, with very little left over for non-essential activities.  It was a great summer, albeit very busy, and I’d be fibbing if I didn’t say that I’ve enjoyed the past few weeks of quiet days.  Thank you, teachers, for allowing me to gather up my brain cells again.

I’ve been having a hard time knowing how to enter back into blogging, but I saw this blog post the other day and decided it would be a fun post to write.

Here I go…

loving . . . . 
my mom’s cookies.  
She sent some home with us a few days ago and I’ve been sneaking them.  
reading . . . 
the Newberry Award Winner books.  
Oh a whim, I printed off a list of all the winners and I’m making my way through them slowly.  I’ve always loved good literature and I’ve always loved to have a goal.  Bingo!
waiting for . . .
September to be over.  
It’s a hard month for me.
excited about . . . 
going with a group of my best MOPS pals to the MOMcon next month.  
My soul is thirsty for some good teaching.  
trying to . . . 
lose 5 pounds.  Always.  
working on . . . 
my new Bible study.  
We’re repeating Beth Moore’s “Believing God” at church and I’m one of the small group leaders.  I love, love, love teaching, especially because of the extra accountability it gives me.
enjoying . . . 
my flowers.  
I feel like I’ve finally gotten the hang of gardening.  I so enjoy an afternoon digging in the dirt. 
using . . . 
instagram.  
I really love documenting my days so quickly and easily.  
wearing . . . 
socks.  
After a few months of going barefoot, it makes me feel warm and cozy.  A good pair of crazy socks is totally underrated.  
planning . . . 
meals.  
I like to have 2-4 weeks of meals planned out.  It helps me not have to run to the grocery store so often and keeps me from frantically searching for dinner ideas at 5:00.  I especially enjoy planning meals in the fall, because there’s still good produce from the summer and it doesn’t make my house super hot when I use my oven.
needing . . . 
to do laundry.  
Because there is just always laundry.  
learning . . . 
that doing the things I’m called to do involves risk.  
Sometimes I’m not very confident in myself, but knowing that God is confident in me gives me strength. 
listening to . . . 
All Sons and Daughters on Pandora.  
It’s my go-to station when I run (if I run.  ha.)  It is my best time of worship, and the mellow-er, the better.  I think that might be weird?
doing . . . 
lots of rearranging.  
Having guests over is the best way to motivate myself to clean and change things up.  I’ve been having lots of fun and my back is killing me!
dreaming of . . . 
how I can use my grief and pain to help others.  
I’m not always sure what the avenues are, but I get such satisfaction out of being able to use Annie’s little life for God’s glory.   It deepens my love for her and for Jesus.   
Whew.  It feels good to be back.  Here’s to more posting in this little space of mine! 

Her Own Style  2

Every Monday and Thursday, she’d emerge from her room ready for the next baseball game. . . .

hair in a ponytail
shirt tucked in 
hat pulled down low
hand-me-down pants and cleats
and fun socks.

I love how she puts her own little mark on whatever she does.
She makes my heart ache with joy as I watch her grow up.

the whatifs  0

Last night, while I lay thinking here,
Some Whatifs crawled inside my ear
And pranced and partied all night long
And sang their same old Whatif song:
Whatif my kids are dumb in school?
Whatif they contract a disease in the pool?
Whatif I get pregnant and throw up?
Whatif I break grandma’s china cup?
Whatif I get nervous and start to cry?
Whatif I get sick and die?
Whatif the color in my hair turns green?
Whatif I can’t fit into my skinny jean?
Whatif nobody likes me?
Whatif a bolt of lightning strikes me?
Whatif my kids don’t grow taller?
Whatif my head starts getting smaller?
Whatif they start a war?
Whatif my husband wants a divorce?
Whatif the bus is late?
Whatif my kids’ teeth don’t grow in straight?
Whatif I bend over and rip my pants?
Whatif someone sees me dance?
Everything seems swell . . . and then . . .
The nighttime Whatifs strike again!

P.S.  I tweaked this poem after Shel Silverstein’s poem (found here).  My friend had asked me to write about worry in our MOPS newsletter and this is what popped into my head.  It made me giggle.

P.S.  Let’s talk about worry.  It does sneak up on us, especially at night when we finally slow down enough to think.  But God commands us not to worry — it doesn’t really accomplish anything besides getting us into a tizzy (See Matthew 6:25-34).  Worrying doesn’t solve my problems, I don’t gain anything from it, and it is self-seeking.  On the other hand, when I give my worry to God, I know that He will guide me through whatever I’m facing.  He may not solve my problem and it may not disappear, but He promises peace to me.  Next time the Whatifs strike you, rest in God’s promise that if He takes care of the birds, He will certainly take care of you (Matthew 6:26).

Widening the Circle  0

I sit on the lawn, waiting for the Kate and Will to get off the bus, squinting in the sunshine.  The girl waiting with me, she’s working things out.  I hear in her words how she just wants to do the right thing.  It’s easier said than done.   I’m glad she’s talking, but I sure don’t have the answers.  So I listen.

There always seems to be an incoming text on my phone.  Some days it’s during the school day, sometimes it’s in the middle of the night (but hardly ever in the early morning).  I keep my volume up just so I don’t miss it.  I want to be available.

There are a few teenage girls who make their way to my house a few times a week.  I prayed for them for a long time and then they just started coming.

I love it.  Love it.

I pick them up from school an hour before my kids come home and we just get to hang out.  Sometimes we talk about deep things– hurts and hopes and pressures they face.  Most of the time we just talk.  It’s good for me and I hope it’s good for them.

I realize it’s way more fun and way less pressure to be their friend instead of their parent.  Because don’t we all remember how one day we decided that there were other people we listened to and tried to emulate? I had a great relationship with my parents during my teen years, but that didn’t mean that I wanted to be with them all of the time.  It was a few years later that I realized oh yeah, my parents may actually know what they’re talking about.  

As I pray for these girls, I pray for my own kids.  That one day, when my voice fades into the distance, they will seek out counsel from others who are godly and wise.  Someone who will invest in them and be willing to ask the hard questions.  Someone who my kids will trust to ask the questions that they’re wrestling over.  I want to be sure that those people share my beliefs and love for Christ and are trustworthy.  Not to replace who I am– I will always be The Mom– but to come alongside me and be a trusted voice during the most tumultuous years.

It pains me a little to write that.  I like to be on the side of the equation where other girls think I’m the cool one.  I’d rather not be the Mom watching my kids seek out others.  But I also know that it’s important for them to not just be a cookie cutter of me– they need to widen their circle to explore who they are going to be.   And truthfully, Peter and I can’t parent alone.  We need others in our kids’ lives.  It happens now, and it will happen more as they grow older.

If you could choose five people in your circle to be an influence your kids, who would it be?

 It’s a question I’m praying over for my own kids, as I pray over these girls who make their way to my table each week.

P.S.  When I need parenting advice, one of my favorite blogs is Orangeparents.org

A Wednesday List of Good Things  0

1.  Today the first flower on our tree popped open!  There have been years when we had to be away for a few days during the spring and I almost cancelled the trip because I was afraid I’d miss the flowers on this tree.  It’s my favorite.

2.  Will found a secret stash of hyacinths and picked them from me.  They smell amazing and he is the best son ever.  (Bear agrees.  And who does he think he is?!  The centerpiece or something!?)

3.  This dog is getting old.  But that still doesn’t keep him from running off.  He did it again last night and he has a nasty limp today to prove it.

4.  I’m fairly sure that iced coffee was invented by a mom.  After three attempts of drinking a warmed up cup this morning, I finally pitched it without a sip.  Thankfully my sweet husband brought me home a fresh one from Tim Horton’s.  I’m drinking it right now.  And it’s cold.  I just didn’t want to risk the few minutes I have to drink it.

5.  The girls and I planted a few seeds last weekend and we had a lot of fun together.  Kate even wrote about it at school.  I felt so blessed that on the day she wrote about friendship, she wrote about me.

6.  I really start to miss the big kids once May hits.  It just seems like they should be home.  But I will say that I’m not looking forward to my quiet afternoons being taken from me.  I wonder how long I can make “Mandatory Reading Time” seem fun?

7.  I found a few neighbors who moved in without us knowing.  I’ve been peeking at them all the time.

8.  I’m having a hard time really believing that spring has finally come to Michigan.  But I think it may be true.  The first s’more seals the deal, doesn’t it!?

Happy Wednesday to you!

Grief and Gardening {our weekend in nashville}  2

I’ve spent a bit of time the past few days cleaning out my garden beds.  Every spring I cannot wait to get my hands in the dirt, to uncover all sorts of little surprise living things.  What I assume is just a patch of brown dirt and leaves suddenly turns into little bits of green everywhere.  It really is ridiculous that I find so much pleasure in it, since it’s the same thing every year.  

This last weekend, Peter and I went to Nashville, where we met with a few old friends, like David and Nancy Guthrie, and about 60 new friends, all of whom have buried a child.  About six months after Annie died, Peter and I were blessed to go to one of the Respite Retreats that David and Nancy host, and this was a reunion for all the couples who had previously attended.

I ran into a friend a few days after we returned home and she looked at me and asked, “So does it REALLY help, or do you feel like you just sit around and cry?”

While it may seem like sitting around with others who have such deep grief would be sad and overwhelming (and it is a bit), I would have to say that what it did for my soul was exactly what I’ve been doing to my garden beds.  I’ve needed a little reassurance that my life isn’t just a bed of dead dirt.  I was beginning to think that I was stuck in my grief, instead of doing the work of uncovering all the little green plants that are struggling to make it up out of the ground.

I watched closely the smiles on the faces of so many who spoke and I listened to their words of hope.  And I realized that those smiles and words were in my heart and on my face, too.  I saw just how far I’ve come.  I still have a long way to go in my healing, but what I have done in the past (almost) four years has been hard fought and it has been good.

David and Nancy had an amazing weekend planned for us and I sat and drank it all in.  They arranged for incredible people to come and talk to us on the sovereignty of God and the challenges facing our remaining children.  Nancy talked to us about Heaven and challenged us to remain true to what the Bible says and not to get caught up in the hype of so many popular beliefs– she confirmed so much of what I’ve thought, but put it together much more coherently.

On Sunday morning, we had our own Worship service.  I couldn’t help the tears that flowed as I listened to us sing the words.  Singing has been one thing that has taken on new meaning since Annie died.  It’s been so emotional for me to declare words out loud because what has been taken from me has been so precious.  So to sit in a room, filled with others who are staking their hope in Christ at such a high cost was sacred.

We made some great new friends.  We reacquainted with some amazing old friends.  I told David and Nancy that we would gladly travel wherever they asked us to go– they have been such a catalyst to us in our healing.  What an immense blessing it is for us to call them our friends!  We talked with a few of their friends one night, who had come to make and serve us dinner.  They told us how they had all of our pictures on their fridge and had been praying for us.  I was amazed at the sacrifice that so many made for us.

This community that we are a part of may be full of sorrow and heartache, but it is also full of hope and renewal and hard fought JOY.  And though we may be in what one called “the mess in the middle”, we are still fighting to bring God the glory in it all.  

So, my garden.  As I’ve been snipping off dead branches and raking out dead, wet leaves, I’ve been thinking and praying.  His mercies are new every morning.  It’s true.  Just when we think there’s nothing left in our life Jesus in His mercy shows us that He is still working in us to bring beauty out of our ashes.

P.S.  My new friend, Jess, wrote about our weekend, too.  She made a great list of people we listened to and books they wrote.  Click over to her and check them out.  So good.

Marching On.  1

I made it.

March is over and I have marched my way through it.

Most days this month were filled with the mundane.  We also tossed a few extras in there:  vomit, double ear infection, pink eye, days and days of high fever, more earaches, and a case of the hives.  I spent most of the month stuck in the house, looking out the window, longing for a sliver of sunshine to break through the clouds, both literally and figuratively.

Have you had those months?  The ones that you had great intentions and you were going to do amazing things . . . and then it all just crumbles around you?  When things are just okay, which is fine, except this was your month to be big!?

A mysterious package arrived at my doorstep a few days ago.  It was a new book (from my amazing friend, Lisa.  If only you all could be so blessed to have a Lisa in your lives!) by Jerry Sittser called A Grace Revealed.   Jerry lost his mom, wife, and daughter to a drunk driving accident and has written some super thought provoking stuff, as you can imagine.

So the past few days I’ve been pondering how God redeems our lives, how He continues to write our stories during the good times, the bad times, and the normal, everyday times.  He can use it all– He does use it all– and we get a front row seat as we seek to know Him more.

He says, “God is using ordinary people to make the world whole and healthy again.  I wonder how that might be true . . . for you and me?  How might the little story of my life and your life contribute to the bigger story of the world’s redemption?  It is hard to see from day to day, largely because our own stories seem so trivial, meaningless, or random.  We race through life, enduring tragedy, laboring on the job or at home, doing routine tasks, often so distracted by pressures and responsibilities that we lack the time, energy, or even interest to think much about the possible significance of our life story.  We seem like workers on an assembly line who have forgotten to consider the high-end product we are helping to make” (p. 68)

And I am convicted and inspired all at once to use the one life I’ve been given to use the tragedy of my life, the amazing blessings in my life, and all the little nameless, forgettable things in between.  Because more than anything, I want God to redeem my story through His.

Sigh.  Goodbye, March.  Hello April.  It sure is good to see you.

Week In Review  2

I’m MARCHING through March.
Last Friday, we were able to take three huge bags of books to Mott’s Children’s Hospital for Annie’s birthday.  
 
My MOPS (Mother’s of Preschoolers) group donated the books for us.  I was humbled and honored to watch the books come in.  It was so fun.  We loaded them up and took a trip to Ann Arbor.
We’ve made it a practice to make the trek down to the city where we spent our last days with our girl.  And while it’s not easy, it’s always worth it.  
We’ve made it a fun day, which is only by the grace of God because it hasn’t been the happiest thing for me to drive that road between here and there.  
We eat a great lunch.
We visit the hospital.
We hit our favorite stores.
We celebrate with cupcakes.
And we end at the bookstore.

 We love our tradition of celebrating Annie’s birthday.  Not as good as having her with us, but still good.

The rest of the week?  Well, there’s been a lot of medicine and antibiotics.  Movies.  Extra “pa time”.  William’s holding out, but the girls have both been down for the count.  It happens.

And then yesterday, Kate’s other bottom tooth came out.  Kate was over the moon and thanks to my bright idea to have William act as Captain Tooth Fairy, so was he.  He was giddy tonight to sneak into her room and put the money under her pillow.

 And then there was a little of this:  Eliza in cowboy boots, an afro wig, trying to do a somersault.  This is my life.

Often crazy, always blessed.

How Grace just Keeps Giving  2

I am MARCHING through March (see why here).

Even though we usually march looking forward, I’m inclined to look back a lot.  I think it’s essential to see how things fit together, how the pieces slowly fall and I can nod my head a bit, understanding a little more than I did yesterday.

I’ve been struggling to name the good bits of Annie’s death.  You know, the things that have happened as a result of our gut wrenching pain.  I don’t always know how to categorize those things very well.  When I hear of someone who is changed as a result of Annie, I find myself caught in a mental list of pros and cons.  I wonder, will the pros ever outweigh the one con: Our empty arms? And then my Pollyanna tendencies take over and I pep talk my way into counting blessings, because it really is quite amazing to watch God work in the midst of our sorrow.  Back and forth I go, around and around in my head.

Which is why I loved stumbling on this article this week: The Sightless, Wordless, Helpless Theologian by Marshall Shelley.

It’s not that he stopped the ping ponging in my head, but God used him to bring the ping ponging under control.

When Peter and I were in Ecuador with Compassion International, one of the first places they took us was to a church with the Child Survival Program, filled with Mamas (very young mamas!) and their babies.  As we pulled up and started to unload, I was filled with emotion.  Our guides told us that it was important for us to love these people– to hug them and hold their babies and show them that we valued them.  And I responded with quick tears in my eyes.  I didn’t understand my reaction, it was surprising to me, but nonetheless, I walked through the line of these Moms and I hugged them and kissed the babies and I couldn’t help it . . . I saw Annie in each little face.  By the end of the line I was sobbing.  I could not hold it together.  I had a firm conviction that God was putting some pieces of the puzzle together, but it was a mystery.

I have to tell you that God has been working on my heart and I have been doing a lot of pondering on the word Grace.  What is it?  What does it mean?  What is the scope of it?

John Wesley did a lot of writing on grace and he had a term he called “prevenient grace”, or “the grace that goes before”.  Specifically, he was talking about the way that God is leading a person as they draw closer to a relationship with Him.  The work that Christ does before the salvation experience, if you will.

But I’ve been thinking about that phrase, “the grace that goes before” and I shake my head when I think of all the ways Christ works in my life when I had no idea.  I see such a small slice of my own life, and sometimes I forget that He works in the bigger story.

How else do you explain my reaction of tears on that day four months ago when I walked through that line of young mothers and babies?  I was overcome with grief.  All day I was a mess.  And I couldn’t really explain it.

That is, until a few weeks ago when Peter got this email from the leader on our trip.  We had asked him to do a bit of detective work for us.  When Annie died, we set up a memorial fund through Compassion, but we didn’t know specifically where the money had gone.  It wasn’t until the trip that we realized we could probably find out.

Sorry to fill up your inbox.. but I was able to track down the information you requested. Your First Giving webpage is actually still live. To date Annie has raised $4320.00 for the Child Survival Program. Her legacy lives on in the lives of moms and their babies and one day we will all rejoice to see all the lives that her life touched.
You, Sarah and family are loved and admired!
Sean

Just reading that again causes tears to stream down my face.  Because I flash back to those Moms and I see the hope in their faces, a hope because of Jesus.  I see them having a purpose in their life and joy.  I see those children and I feel their sticky little skin.  And I know that there are moms and babies who are  alive today because of gifts others gave in honor of my girl.  I cannot believe that we get to be part of their story.

I have no doubt that on that day my tears were a gift.  Grace that went before my knowledge of the whole picture.  How is it that I have been so blessed to see so much of this?

We like to package up life in neat little boxes, tied with bows.  We love a good, happy ending.  Yet we all know life isn’t like that at all.  So I’ve hesitated to share this story, fearing that it could become the quintessential story we all long for . . . because the truth is that I will always long for my baby and wish that I had her in my arms.  And yet it doesn’t negate the redemption to this story.

Marshall Shelley says in his article,

“We had no easy answers [regarding the death of my daughter], but for all these questions, the only answers that came close to making any sense at all were spiritual: God’s unexplainable but eternal purposes, a new understanding of what’s truly significant, the hope of the resurrection, and the strength that comes from God’s people.We began to see the power of the powerless.“

The power of the powerless?  Annie.  As a six month old, she was all that the world sees as powerless. And yet, I have a front row seat to see the ways that Christ can use her.  My own Wordless, Helpless Theologian.  That, my friends, is the grace of the bigger story that God has allowed me to live.  
And because of that I MARCH.