growing in Him

The Complex Nature of Farming for God

joyouschild The Power of the Witness ,

I have the privilege of praying for dear friends who are a farming family.  Never before have I paid so much attention to drought forecasts and tornado warning and snowstorm predictions in the Midwest.

I can’t be there to be part of the work, but by her Facebook posts and watching the weather, I can pray…and pray…and pray.  I hope I am praying effectively.  Lord willing, one day I will walk their fields with them and see the fruits of their labor.  If not, at least I can continue pray.

Shouldn’t that be the way that we look at dealing with our unbelieving friends, associates, and…gulp…unbelieving family?

Family can know where all the chinks in the armor are.  They can rile you quicker, and laugh harder than any others when you fail and fall.

I had a discussion with my dear friend Carol regarding witnessing to her unbelieving family.  She had been lamenting to her husband and son about their demands on her for money-motivated demonstrations of her love.  Her son had a response that stilled her.

Mom, it might not be for them that you are behaving as a Christian and providing for and putting up with them.  It might be a witness to their neighbors.

Wise words.  Not direct planting, but part of the process nonetheless.  In turn, maybe another family member of that neighbor can be the ones to get through to Carol’s family, bringing them to the Lord.  For that we can definitely pray.

All in all, this is a complex process.  We can only see our own little piece of it, and can be tempted to believe it is the most important piece.  Truly, though, it takes all these pieces to make the “planting” successful.  And it is not us who bring the increase.  It is the Lord Himself.

So, when with others, I cannot be direct with them in the planting of gospel seeds…whether due to distance or resistance…I can still pray for hands that will be there to do that work.  And I can realize that my prayers may be just what it takes to strengthen the other person for the work at hand.

Thanks be to God for giving us a part of the work, whatever part He may give us.

I planted the seed, Apollos watered it, but God made it grow. So neither he who plants nor he who waters is anything, but only God, who makes things grow. The man who plants and the man who waters have one purpose, and each will be rewarded according to his own labor. For we are God’s fellow workers; you are God’s field, God’s building. – 1 Corinthians 3:6-9

Up In Flames

joyouschild Doing it on My Own, Faithwalk, On the Inside, Trusting the Father , ,

Last week, while visiting my folks, my dad and I took a ride in the golf cart.

First, we smelled a funny, plastic-y kind of smell.  “What’s that smell, Dad?”

“Not sure.”  He keeps driving the golf cart, telling me about the houses we are passing.

“The smell is not going away, Dad…”

He keeps driving.

“Daddy, there’s smoke!”

Now he stops the golf cart and we get out.

Dad pulls up the seat…and flames come out!

We send a passer-by to the gate house a few hundred feet away for the fire extinguisher.

By the time this gentleman returns, the cart is fully engulfed in flames, and we run to the gatehouse to have them call the fire department.

The fire department comes to put out the blaze, leaving only a charred pile of plastic and a bit of metal that has to be scraped from the road.

Five minutes…just five minutes…and the golf cart lay in ruins.

How equally quickly my attitude can go up in flames!

I can be sailing along, leaving the future to God, not feeling pressure and stress, holding firmly to God’s hand…when out of the blue…

Flames!  Smoke!  Meltdown!

I have to ask myself…why?

My dad’s fire was caused by a battery issue.  Could the cause of mine be the same?

Did I recharge with my daily dose of Godly encouragement through Bible reading and study?  Have I spent enough time on maintenance, seeking from the Lord what about me needs to change?

In those instances of “fire,” the answer is…probably not.

While I am not sure whether my dad’s golf cart fire could be prevented, I am pretty sure my “fire” could have been.

I resolve to work harder at the PM (preventative maintenance) to avoid the fires…and their consequences of burning me and others.

Do your best to present yourself to God as one approved, a worker who does not need to be ashamed and who correctly handles the word of truth. – 2 Timothy 2:15

Stoned or Walled In?

joyouschild Griefwork, The Storms of Life, Trusting the Father , , ,

The Lord tears down the house of the proud, but he sets the widow’s boundary stones in place. – Proverbs 15:25

I read this verse earlier this week and it struck me.  I thank God every day that He maintains my boundary stones.

Today it happened again.  This verse became real as God upheld my boundary stone…in the form of my wall.

This morning I stepped out of my bedroom and felt water on the carpet.

Living in the house I do–with the people and animals I do–I bent down to smell the floor and make sure it was really water.  (It was.)

Then I realized we could be facing quite a conundrum here.  Especially since I had just been spending time in prayer with God discussing the schedule for the next few days and how tight it would be.

God is forever setting my boundary stones in place as far as my time. 

That’s because I really, really, really need it.

I have once again over-committed our family, which inevitably leads to stress and confusion.

When I get these checks from God it simply makes me prioritize my life better.  He is looking out for me, and keeps my boundaries in place by the way He pushes me to move at times.

So…blessing number one:  the water was simply overflow from the drip pan on the A/C in the attic.  My neighbor Jeff was home this morning and snaked it for me and cleared out the clog.  He also told me to dump in some bleach to clean out the gunk in there.  Easy for me to do.  

Blessing number two:  looking at the complicated nature of our schedule, my oldest graciously decided to not attend the lock-in at church tonight so that my stress level is down–no fussing, no complaining, totally gracious.  He continues to surprise me with his maturity!  What a blessing he is!

Blessing number three:  even in this, I did not lose control, stress out, or fuss at anyone (too much)–real progress for me.  (My children were so impressed they gave me a round of applause.)

My boundary stones are in place!  God acted, changed me, refined me some, and it wasn’t even too painful.

Praise God for His indescribable gift!


I am a Four-Eyed Freak

joyouschild Griefwork, Widow Walk , ,

Now I don’t just have two eyes, Mom…I have FOUR!  I can see even better!

Ah, the perspective of a child!

Matthew had just gotten his first pair of glasses and this momma was worried.  How would he adjust to them?  Would he feel…different?

I needn’t have worried.  He did feel different…and he was…glad.

When I found out we had lost Keith, the first words out of my mouth were, quite literally, “I’m a widow.”

The reality of that did not hit me at that moment.  Well, maybe on some levels.  But not as fully as it later did.

Now, nearly five years later, I can truly tell you that I am…glad.

I know that sounds odd.  How can having your heart ripped out, your life ripped apart, be something that makes you glad?

Ah, my friends, therein lies the mystery of God.

Today a dear friend of mine prayed for me as we were ending a play date…”Lord, help her to feel You as her Husband, first and foremost, above all others, all she needs.”

Mostly I feel that–feel God as my Husband.  Mostly I count my blessings more than my stresses, my joys more than my sorrows.

If you know me, you know me to be a glass-is-half-full kinda gal.

Thank God I am!

But it is a choice, one I have to make on a daily basis, sometimes a minute-by-minute basis.

Like my sweet Matthew, I choose to look at my lot in life as a gift and not a stress, a way to help me see better…

To see my Lord!

For our light and momentary troubles are achieving for us an eternal glory that far outweighs them all. So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen, since what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal. – 2 Corinthians 2:17-18

Watermelons and Old Sayings

joyouschild Grace Again and Again, On the Inside, Widow Walk , ,

I was just cutting a watermelon in my kitchen.  As I cut the first slice, I snitched a piece.  It was…okay.

Hmm…maybe the next watermelon will be sweeter.  It’s early in the season yet.

But…as I learned as a child…waste not, want not.  So, I kept cutting.

Inevitably (for me, at least…perhaps you have more willpower), I snitched another piece farther into the watermelon.

It was…incredibly sweet!

Remember another old saying…don’t judge a book by its cover?

I was introduced to a friend’s husband recently in this way:  This is Liz.  Remember, she is the one I told you about, the widow who homeschools her four sons?

Now, I’m not poking at this dear friend — love her to pieces!  And all she said is true…that is my reality, and consumes a large part of my waking hours.

But it does not define all of me…

Another old saying…peel an onion, there are a lot of layers.

Who am I down in my core, the part that only God sees?

I guess maybe I see a difference between my reality and what defines me…maybe I am only seeing that difference as I write this post.

I am a child of the King.  I struggle, I fail, I fall, I get up.  But I love God and He loves me, and that is enough.

It does not give me permission to quit, but it does give me grace when I fail.

And that grace is…incredibly sweet!

So I will continue to operate in my reality of widowhood — a reality that is not always sweet but can be just okay; a reality that people see and will define me by whether I am only that or not.

And I will pray for the opportunity to show them the inner me…the me forever touched by grace.

Therefore we do not lose heart, but though our outer man is decaying, yet our inner man is being renewed day by day.  For momentary, light affliction is producing for us an eternal weight of glory far beyond all comparison, while we look not at the things which are seen, but at the things which are not seen; for the things which are seen are temporal, but the things which are not seen are eternal. — 2 Corinthians 4:16-18

Just "Do" It

joyouschild Griefwork, Widow Walk ,

When my best friend Susan calls, I often tell her I can’t talk because we are “doing” school.  She gets it.  She “does” school at her house, too.

In the vernacular of my homeschooling friends, that means we are “having” school…learning something.  This can mean a variety of things to homeschoolers (we all “do” school a little differently), but bottom line, it means it’s learning time, and we need to focus on the learning.

At our house, we also “do” grief.  I don’t mean that we sit formally and talk about our loss.  Well, sometimes we do.  But more often than not, there’s nothing “formal” about the way we “do” grief.

In fact, it’s similar to the way we “do” school.

It’s different day-to-day, person-to-person (even within our own house).  But if we are “doing” it right, I believe learning occurs.

Sometimes that learning is a new or renewed skill.  I hadn’t “done” the bills here for many years.  I have had to relearn how to “do” them.

I never mowed grass before 4 years ago, either.  But now I have learned to “do” that, and even to teach my oldest.  Now Alex “does” the grass.

Sometimes the work I “do” is what I call “noodle work.”  I have learned to know me better:  my strengths and weaknesses; what I want from life; who I am apart from Keith.

Sometimes the work I “do” is heart work:  learning to accept God as Father, Husband, Confidant, Trusted Companion.  Learning to let go and let God, and to see and accept that He’s got it, and me, all the time.  Learning to trust His word as true and relevant to every part of my life:  grief, love, parenting, friendships, relationships, everything.

I have heard people talk about what they don’t “do”:   
I don’t “do” windows.
I don’t “do” drama.
Even…I don’t “do” grief.

I haven’t had a choice.  What was my alternative?

So, I “do” my grief work.  I sit often with a cup of coffee and a Bible and learn my Lord and His ways.  I slog through the new things I learn to do physically.  I find ways to complete me apart from Keith.

And whenever I have finished the next lesson of grief work, I am glad I “did.”

And let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us, fixing our eyes on Jesus, the pioneer and perfecter of faith. For the joy set before him he endured the cross, scorning its shame, and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God. — Hebrews 12:1B-2

Lego Land Mines

joyouschild Griefwork, Persevering through Pain, Raising Kids Alone , ,

I have four sons.  That means I have 4 x 1,000,000 Legos in my house.

They are everywhere.  I have a real bone to pick with the Lego people who package up 5 little plastic men with some other random pieces of plastic and charge me $50 for it!  In order to get the precious figures, we add another hundred Legos to the house.  Over and over again.  Each birthday, Christmas, and mad money day.

Don’t get me wrong.  There are hours of fun and creativity in those little pieces of plastic.  Even the big ones still play with them, and it is often a common ground with the little ones, something they can all play where the big ones aren’t too bored (unlike Candy Land).

But there is a down side to Legos.  They are excruciatingly painful when you step on them.

Of course, they are all supposed to be picked up before the boys go to bed.  I try to do a sweep myself as well so that when I come down for my quiet time, I don’t impale myself on one.  But it occasionally still happens.  And boy, does it hurt!

Grief is like that.

Like the Legos on the floor of my house, I occasionally trip on my grief and have the searing pain of the loss all over again.  All I can do is sit there and wrap my arms around myself for a minute until the pain passes.

I have been through many of my “firsts,”  I am not even talking about the firsts you know you will have–first Christmas, first birthday, first Easter, etc.  There are a lot more firsts you never think of until you step on them–first time mowing the lawn, first tax season, first car repair, first trip to the ER, first call to poison control (I have made three since Keith died–yep, three).

The pesky Legos of the firsts also have another flavor, wrapped in the candy wrapper of the good things in life, the ones I really wish I could share with Keith–first baptism, first lost tooth, first words read, first vacation, first soccer goal–on and on.  And there are more on the horizon–first time driving a car, first girlfriend, first graduation, first wedding, first grandchild…

You never realize how many firsts there are in life until you face them alone, trying to respond to them as two people would.

But here’s the cool thing.  There is a Friend who sticks closer than a brother, who is there for all my firsts, all those moments when the pain is so excruciating I think I will never walk again.  Just like I comfort my little guys when they happen to step on a piece of plastic, Jesus comforts me each time I step on a first.  He is there, there, there!

And He always will be.  That’s a promise.

He will wipe every tear from their eyes.  There will be no more death or mourning or crying or pain…  – Revelation 21:4a

God Showed Up

joyouschild Raising Kids Alone, Trusting the Father , ,

This was my past Sunday morning:

5:00 a.m. – Get up for quiet time (only chance I get at it – thank you, Beth Moore, for sharing it with me!)
5:30 a.m. – Tanner wakes up (fell back asleep on the couch – thank You, Lord); I keep reading, checking emails, getting out stuff for company later in the day, doing prep work for food to be served
6:00 a.m. – Tanner starts asking for breakfast – over and over and over; I keep putting him off and continue doing reading and my own morning chores
6:30 a.m. – Make and serve breakfast; try to do a family devotion; stop and explain to kids again why you don’t talk when Mom is talking or fight with your brother at the table
6:45 a.m. – Finish housecleaning for company after church (yes, we were the ones running the vacuum that early)
7:15 a.m. – Matthew asks if I can “come upstairs for a minute”; come up to find a dead hamster and a crying boy (Dang it!  RIP, Sandy!  No time to bury you now!); hold crying boy
7:30 a.m. – Pick out clothes for the little boys; fuss at everyone to start their morning chores; hurriedly get into the shower so we are not late for church
8:00 a.m. – Brush my teeth while opening my blinds and I see that my car door is OPEN
8:01 a.m. – Pray the car battery is not dead; send the children out to close the door
8:10 a.m. – Three children come in from shutting car door, armed with baseball bats (they were afraid someone had broken into the car and they were going to have to chase them out); they also found Tanner’s bike down the street where they had left it last night (did I mention in rained overnight — big, wake-you-up thunderstorms?)
8:15 a.m. – Take bats away from children (that was probably a given in your minds, but am including it anyway); give a lecture about stewardship and helping Mom out around the house; continue putting on makeup; fix 4 boys’ hair for church (yep, even Alex needed it this week)
8:20 a.m. –  Finish my own hair and makeup, fuss at everyone to pick up stuff to take to church, turn off lights, and take the dogs out
8:25 a.m. – Remind children not to talk loudly outside because not everyone gets up for church as early as we do
8:30 a.m. – Finally pull out of the driveway 15 minutes late; pray we make it on time to start our morning routine at church (I have something to stuff in the bulletin, as usual, and have to get everyone checked into their classes and be ready to greet)

Whew!  I am tired again, just writing that all down.

Here is the crux of the hardest thing as a single mom:  I have no one to share this with.  We got to church and no one knew of the craziness we had at home before we came, the accomplishment that the car was not wet inside–and that it started, that we made it on time anyway, and that I did not really lose my temper through all this (only a bit).

No one but God.

He knew.  And being the loving, gracious Father that He is, He sent a messenger to me with some strength for the day.  Here is an email I got later that evening from my dear friend Shari, far away and knowing nothing of my day:

Hi – hope the weekend went well.  I just wanted to write and encourage you …. you are doing a great job.  I’m sure it must be exhausting and frustrating, but as I was watching some single parents recently I was reminded of how you are stepping up to the challenge and allowing God to help you, rather than just saying – oh, it’s too hard, so I will give up.  Keep up the great work!!!  Don’t give up – love you bunches.
 
Thank You, Lord!
And my God will meet all your needs according to his glorious riches in Christ Jesus. – Philippians 4:19

Insight into the Why

joyouschild Faith Community, Priorities , ,

There is something special about sharing the burden of my sisters in Christ.

I have the privilege of crying with two dear sisters at church over the past weekend, holding them while the pain and hurt engulfed them, letting it engulf me too so that in some way I could share it.

I’ve been there.  Different pain, perhaps, but I have been there.

When Keith died, friends would come over or call just to cry with me.  They came with open arms, prepared to help me carry the burden for a bit.  They knew they could not ultimately take away what was mine to carry, but they wanted to ease the burden for a time, bearing part of the weight, supporting me so I could breathe for half a minute.

It was hard, but it was joyous as we grew closer together through that sharing.  It helped everything make sense for a moment, and that moment was enough to help me have strength to face the next moment.

Fast forward to today.  I am better attuned to my sisters in Christ.  I am more able to be that worker who shows up, knowing I have a load to lift, a soul to lighten, if only by catching cathartic tears.

And for that, for my friends, for that privilege of burden-bearing, I am forever grateful.

Thank You, God, for that insight into why my life looks the way it does!

Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of compassion and the God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our troubles, so that we can comfort those in any trouble with the comfort we ourselves receive from God.  – 2 Corinthians 1:3-4

I Muffed It

joyouschild Doing it on My Own, Grace Again and Again, On the Inside , ,

I muffed it.  Please don’t tell me I didn’t because I did.  And now I have to deal with that.

I was singing for dear friends as they renewed their vows.  And I forgot the words.  Not emotion, not nervousness.  I muffed it.

Then I came off the stage and my teenager decided that was the time for some “constructive” criticism.

My first thought was, “I miss Keith.”  Weddings are hard enough, but without my biggest fan there when I sing, it almost seems more trouble than it’s worth.

Perhaps if Keith was here, it would not have happened the way it did.  If he was still here, I would not be in this over-committed position.  He was so good at knowing my limits, and he was good at telling me, in a loving way, when I had reached them.  He caught me most of the time before I was over-committed and stressed and muffed things.  That is one of the things I miss most.

It is harder to hear from God.  It is harder to have my ears attuned to the Heavenly voice of my Father and the Lover of my soul.  It shouldn’t be, but it is.  I take back my life, feeling like I am in control and in charge and can handle adding one more thing.  I feel like Super-Woman!

Then I fail.  I feel like dirt on the back of a flea.  I don’t forgive myself easily.

Why is it that forgiving yourself is so hard?  Why do I hold myself to standards that even the Lord does not hold me to?  He knows I am not perfect.  He knows that I will continue to sin, continue to be human.  He made me that way.

Why?  Why did He make me so frail, so prone to fail?  So prone to overstep, over-commit?

One of my favorite lines in the movie “Facing the Giants” (http://www.facingthegiants.com/home) comes from the young kicker, David, who asks why God made him so small and weak.  His father answers that then He can show how mighty He is.  Maybe that is why.

Maybe it is to keep me humble and close to Him.

Maybe it is to give me a gentle nudge, since Keith is not here, that it is time to slow down, that I have taken on too much.

Maybe it is to show me just how much He loves me.

I have loved you with an everlasting love; therefore, I have continued to extend faithful love to you.  Again I will build you so that you will be rebuilt, Virgin Israel. You will take up your tambourines again and go out in joyful dancing.-Jeremiah 31:3b-4