God’s got it

Seasons of Soccer

joyouschild Grace Again and Again, Raising Kids Alone , ,

Single mom raising a passle of boys = a hair-raising (or should I say hair-graying) experience!

Especially in the area of sports.

But God provides, sometimes in ways I don’t expect, but I can certainly glory in.

Alex’s second soccer season, he had a coach named Scott who had a daughter a bit younger than Alex on the team.  He was a great coach–nice, good with the kids, the right amount of praising them and driving them.

We were blessed when two seasons later, Matthew had the same coach.

Right after that season, Keith died.

I called one of the moms on the team to tell her.  Keith had been sick and in the hospital during part of the season, so they were somewhat in touch with what was going on.  This mom took it upon herself to call the whole team.

Imagine my surprise when, right with the family, Scott walked into the funeral home for the viewing.  I was gratified that he chose to come and express his sympathy, but what he did next quite literally floored me.

He sat down, prepared to stay the whole length of the viewing, and talked sports with my big boys.  Just talked.

Since then, this family, mostly Scott, has become a part of our lives, showing up just when my boys need them.

The next spring, Scott showed up between his kids’ games to watch Alex play.  Matthew, wanting to get his attention, went over and started talking to him.  Then another adult came to talk to Scott.  Scott had the conversation with the adult, but kept him arm around Matthew for like twenty minutes.  Matthew gloried in the male attention.  I thanked God for His provision (and asked Him when he was going to fill that dad spot, but that is another story).

Later that same season, Matthew scored his first goal.  I was in the car with the little ones at the time, avoiding a drizzle.  Alex ran back to the car to tell me Matthew had scored, and I was bummed that I had missed it.  Once again, however, God provided.  Scott happened to be again between games and saw it and was able to whoop and holler for him.

Fast forward a few seasons until Jackson starts playing soccer.  We were blessed once again to have Scott be our coach.  More time for him to speak into my kids’ lives.

Jackson did not score his first goal that season, but when he did a season later, it was against the team Scott was coaching, and even though he was the opposing coach, Scott hugged my son and told him what a great job he did.  He also witnessed Jackson’s second goal (again, I missed it, being on the field with another son–story of my life).

(I have told Scott several times that I wish they had four kids so that there could be one Tanner’s age that he could coach as well.)

Do you notice a theme here?  God providing through a precious family, a precious man, who just loves on my kids when he gets a chance.  He takes the opportunity when it is presented to him, and God has used that mightily to comfort my boys, to strengthen them, to fill in part of that missing “dad” piece.

Here is the part that amazes me.  This is not a believing family.  (My boys here want me to say…NOT YET!)  God is using someone who is not even on board with His general plan to speak so mightily into the lives of my boys.

Provision, my friends, provision!

The LORD remembers us and will bless us – Psalm 115:12a

What’s a Cross?

joyouschild Griefwork, Persevering through Pain, The Power of the Witness, Widow Walk , ,

Recently my dear friend Judi asked me if I felt losing Keith was my cross to bear.

Here is the long and short of my answer…it’s not a cross, it’s a blessing.

About 4 weeks after Keith died, a dear friend who is a fellow widow called the place we are in “a privilege.”  Now, at that point in my journey, Keith had been gone just a bit of time and Christmas was around the corner.  I was not feeling privilege, I can tell you.

But I did remember; I did ponder those words.

For years.

I gotta be honest.  Some days stink.  It is really hard to be a single mom.  Some days, even now, I ache for Keith’s arms around me.

But, yes, I believe it.  It is privilege.

Joy in the journey.

God is there.  At night.  When I have tough decisions to make.  Raising the boys.  When hard stuff happens.  When good stuff happens.  When I am hurt.  When I am happy.  When I am scared.  When I am confident.

The boys have learned things about the provision of God, the sovereignty of God, the love of God that Keith and I could not have taught them together.  They know that they know that they know.  They have seen and tasted that the Lord is good.

I have gotten to see God work in the lives of people simply because He gave me this great need and the foresight to let them in to help.

I have gotten to cry with others on this journey, knowing what they are feeling.  And also to laugh with them.

I have grown and changed…a butterfly out of a cocoon, able now to go different places than I could go before.

I know my Lord better…closer…dearer.

And that changes my whole perspective.

I have always thought of the cross as a place of pain and suffering, and it certainly was that.

But…maybe…it was also a place of joy because Christ knew that through it, the redemption of the world would happen.  He could see beyond the moments to the big picture.

I don’t compare my suffering to that of Christ in any way, shape, or form.  That would be pure arrogance.

But the changes wrought in me…and I do mean wrought…have made a difference.  And in that I can glory.

I consider that our present sufferings are not worth comparing with the glory that will be revealed in us.- Romans 8:18

Out of the Mouths of Babes…

joyouschild Persevering through Pain, The Storms of Life, Trusting the Father ,

I want to dance in the lion’s den!  I want to dance in the lion’s den!  I want to dance in the lion’s den! — Tanner, age 4 1/2, singing at the top of his lungs

It isn’t surprising, really.  I have been studying Daniel in my weekly Bible study.  We had Daniel in our school curriculum.  And the boys have been learning about Daniel in Sunday School.  I am not sure what triggered Tanner’s song, but he was gustily singing it for several minutes.

Because of all this emphasis on Daniel in our house lately, I have been thinking a lot about the lion’s den.

I have often felt like I am there.  Single parenting stinks some days.  Having grief as my companion stinks some days.  Having all the household chores and the running people to and fro from soccer to guitar to AWANA to play dates stinks some days.

But am I in the lions’ den, really?

Daniel, an eighty year old man, was looking into the teeth of lions as he was tossed downward.  He knew if he followed God he was going there — down into a pit full of hungry lions.

Even so, he did not waver in his devotion to God.

Can I say the same about me?

Some days, sure.  I am “in the zone” and can say that God and I could tackle anything life could throw at me.  Bring it on!  My God is bigger!

Some days, not so much.

I am burdened by the things of this life in a way that I don’t want to be — and that God doesn’t want me to be.

How do I let go of that?  How do I stay so focused that I am not scared, even when looking at teeth and claws on the way down?

Lesson from a four-year old:  dance!

Sometimes that means turning on the praise music and actually turning about the room.  The boys are often right there with me, and we sing and twirl and act goofy until we all are breathless and laughing, happy to be serving our God again.

Sometimes it means reading Psalms quietly in my room and dancing in my mind.

Sometimes, I admit, it means picturing myself twirling in Keith’s arms again.  That one usually makes me smile as well, because, as great a guy as he was, the man could not dance.

Sometimes it means putting my feet on my Father’s, holding on tight and dreaming of some day.  When I was a girl, these dances with my earthly dad had me dreaming of being a grown-up lady and dancing with a groom.  Now, I dream of a different Groom, and that dancing will be glorious.

Now the lions don’t look so bad; the drop down the hole does not look so deep.

Not bad theology, kid!  Keep it up!

Let us fix our eyes on Jesus, the author and perfecter of our faith, who for the joy set before Him endured the cross, scorning its shame, and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God.  Consider Him who endured such opposition from sinful men, so that you will not grow weary and lose heart. — Hebrews 12:2-3

Couples Time

joyouschild Doing it on My Own, On the Inside, Priorities , ,

Okay, so I have been incredibly busy.  You may have guessed that by the lack of posts.

Things have been crazy here, and, often, so have my responses.  It seems the volume of our house has changed and everything occurs at a new volume in the last few weeks — and that volume is not softer.  Just so we are clear.

What is the problem?  I have wondered.  What is going on with them, with me?

Then it dawned on me.

I remember being married to Keith and in some seasons I was with him, but not with him.  We were near each other and working toward a common goal, but did not have the time or the energy to just be together.  Too often, due to the busy-ness of life, we had what my sister calls task talk only, and not lover talk (that  intimate talk that was not about the words but about the blending of spirits, the openness between us).  I have to admit, mostly it meant that I dropped my agenda and listened to him instead of just pushing on.

Now, in this life I lead, God is my Husband (and so much more, but that will be for another post).

Unfortunately, I am guilty of the same thing in this relationship — doing mostly good, God-honoring stuff, pushing along to what I see as His goals for me and for the family — but not spending that intimate time with the Lover of my soul.  Oh, sure, I am reading my Bible and doing my Bible study work, but I see that as becoming more like task talk than lover talk.  

I am an overworked mom (can anyone relate?) who spends more time dealing with broken feet and dog throw up and dirty socks and grading papers than I do basking in the love of my Savior!

Revelation made.  Now how to solve.

Cheap quote from The Princess Bride:  “I am waiting for you Vizzini! You told me to go back to the beginning, so I have. This is where I am, and this is where I’ll stay. I will not be moved.” – Inigo Montoya

That really is the answer, though.  Go back to the beginning.  When do I feel closest to God?  When do I listen best to Him?  Probably for me, the answer is in writing and prayer — which often occurs simultaneously.

So, that is the goal.  To be still more to know that He is God, and to rest in His arms, having lover talk with Him whenever, however possible.  It is crucial to my life, as the last few weeks have indicated.

Watch and pray with me that I can find quiet time in Him, and thereby find peace in me.

You have persevered and have endured hardships for my name, and have not grown weary.  Yet I hold this against you: You have forsaken the love you had at first.  Consider how far you have fallen! Repent and do the things you did at first. — Revelation 2:3-5a

The Fleece I Didn’t Know I Needed

joyouschild Grace Again and Again, Raising Kids Alone, Trusting the Father , ,

Sometimes I have put down fleeces.  I think God honors my efforts in the fleece if I put them down with a sincere heart, desiring to be in His will.

Sometimes He gives me the fleece I did not know I needed.

We have had a couple hard weeks here.  Raising a teenage boy is a daunting practice at best.  My oldest and I have been squabbling more lately as he tests his wings and boundaries, trying to negotiate this journey to manhood without the benefit of his dad’s direction.  I was a bit discouraged when I arrived at church.  I sought the counsel of a couple male friends, but God was already working.

We have had a group of men visiting our church who have been in town for a few weeks for a training course.  Being the perpetual greeter-of-all-who-enter at church, I met them the first week they arrived and struck up a conversation.  Their first Sunday was the day the Giants played the Packers in the playoffs.  I remember specifically because Alex was “representing” (huge Giants fan) and the guys had already scoped him out for ribbing (one of them was a huge Packers fan and wanted to”belt” him–victory dance thing–guys will get it).  When they found out he was my son, they asked if they could tease him, and like any good mom I said, “Go right ahead!”

This began a relationship between my son and these men.  Being the kid he is, he has gone over every week to talk to them, tease with them, gloat over the Giants victories (good year for that), and just check in.

On Sunday, not long after I had been commiserating about the hard week, the guys came in and told me they had brought new guys with them.  I did not meet them then, but I did a few minutes later in the service.  I was introduced to “B.”  I shook hands with him and worked my way down the line of guys.  When I got to the end of the line, one of the guys, Dan, asked me if I had met “B.”  I told him I had.  He asked me if I knew who he was.  I said I did not.  Much to my surprise, Dan said he was a former NFL center!  Then Dan told me that they had made sure to get Alex over to meet “B.”  Later I found out that “B” did not want his identity known, but did want to make sure that he met my son, and so these guys made sure that it happened.  Without my involvement or prompting, they acted.

Cool story in that Alex got to shake the hand of a former NFL player!  Even cooler that God has used these men, just here for a few weeks, to speak into my son’s life, to give him man stuff that I could not give him.

The fleece I did not ask for, but desperately needed!

Are not five sparrows sold for two pennies?  Yet not one of them is forgotten by God.  Indeed, the very hairs of your head are all numbered.  Don’t be afraid; you are worth more than many sparrows. 
— Luke 12:6-7

I am not Amazing

joyouschild Faithwalk, Grace Again and Again, Griefwork, Trusting the Father , ,

It’s funny.  Since Keith died, I get the comments, “you’re amazing” and “you are so strong” a lot.  It is very sweet of people to say, but inwardly I cannot help but snort.  I am far from amazing, and, some days, I am the antithesis of strong.

Some days, more than I would like to count, my life, my attitude, is much less than amazing.  Some days I scream in frustration at the mess in the house, and the children in my house who made it.  Some days I cry angry tears of over spilled milk and broken light fixtures.  Some days school contains more words spoken in an angry tone than in an uplifting one.  Some days I want to just retreat, curl up in a ball and wait for the day to be over.  That’s reality.

I am not amazing.  I am human.  Sometimes much too much so!  If I have done anything right in this whole journey of grief, if I have any advice to give, it is this:  let God be God.

“I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me” (Philippians 4:13) may seem trite to some…until you try living that way.

  • Dressing your four young sons for their daddy’s funeral…I can do all things…
  • Continuing to homeschool with no break and no “principal”…I can do all things…
  • Celebrating birthdays and holidays and milestones…I can do all things…
  • Teaching young men to be men of God in the image of their dad and their Father...I can do all things…
I could go on, but the point is this:  I do nothing here, nothing, but surrender.  God has a plan and a purpose and, really, I am along for the ride.  And it will be a wonderful and beautiful and joyous ride as long as I don’t try to take over the driving on my own.  Instead, I wait for directions.  I pray and I pray, and I often fail and make a total mess of things, taking them back from God and trying to do them on my own.  But, I keep trying, and God keeps being gracious.  Praise Him for that.  Hallelujah!
So, my standard answer when someone says I am strong or amazing:  “No, I’m not, but God is!“

God in the Details

joyouschild Joy in the Journey ,

My oldest, Alex, can usually be found in a Christian t-shirt and jeans.  On Christmas Day, he had just gotten new shirt (black, with a guitar on it and scripture) and was sporting it with his new jeans.

Being the helpful kid that he is, he was loading the dishwasher for me as I rushed busily around the kitchen preparing for company.  As he was filling the well with dishwasher detergent, however, I cringed.  I had forgotten to warn him about the dangers of the bleach in the dishwasher soap.  Before I could stop him, he swiped the excess detergent down both his shirt and pants.

I  hustled him upstairs to change, hoping to avoid the bleach spots which I knew would end up on the shirt (I have several such shirts myself).  I hoped that maybe washing the shirt and pants right away might take the bleach out before it could do any damage,  Needless to say, Alex was bummed.

Later in the day, I moved the clothes to the dryer and discovered that, indeed, there were bleach spots on both the shirt and pants.

Here’s where God came in.  When I pulled the clothes out of the dryer…THERE WERE NO BLEACH SPOTS ON THEM.  No kidding.  The spots I had seen with my own eyes were gone!

Why did God, in His infinite wisdom, choose to remove the spots from the jeans and shirt?

It could have been because of the money I would have to spend to replace them.  It could have been because He likes to see Alex in a Christian t-shirt, proclaiming His name.

I think there might be another reason.  This incident is an excellent example to me, and to Alex, of just how much God is in the details.  It is an example of His extravagant love for us played out in a shirt and pair of pants.  Any time he wears the shirt, Alex will think of God’s infinite care and love for us, and so will I.

I hope you do, too.

“And even the very hairs on your head are numbered.”  -Matthew 10:30