Learning to Let Go and Let God

I've always been a writer, a journaler, a note taker. I've always loved words. I started this blog many moons ago when I had 3 young boys who rode bikes, played sideyard ball and taught me patience and joy in the everyday. Today I am a mom of 3 young men who  drive cars,  are smarter than me (and know it), and who teach me what it really means to live with my hands open in motherhood. They are preparing to live their own lives, on the cusp of adventures and plans that I couldn't have imagined. They challenge me to dig deeper in my faith and how to speak each of their love languages, just so they remember how much their dear old mom really does love them. 

It isn't ironic in this season of my oldest son graduating and taking his next steps into adulthood and my other two not far behind at all, that I am reading through Paul"s letters in my quiet time.  I don't know that Paul had any actual physical children of his own, in fact I'm pretty sure he didn't, but he was obedient in being that father of many bodies of believers. His offspring were the ones who he taught and nurtured with the words of God and the great testimony of his faith. He would spend time in a place and plant and start and grow a church and then be called on to do it again in a new and fresh place over and over again. All the while, Paul was also living a life where he struggled with persecution,  a personal weakness or thorn in his side, and other hardships and trials. Hs letters to his churches are reflections of his heart for the people that he loved and felt responsibility toward but who were also living apart from him in some capacity or another.

When my oldest stumbled down the steps today chatting about college and tuition and jobs, I was just making my way through 2 Timothy.  As I listened to him and his views, thoughts, and feelings about life and next steps, I tried not to get overcome with the concerns of how hard it can be. Adulthood isn't easy and living for Jesus doesn't guarantee blue skies, actually, it's kind of the opposite. I found myself getting afraid for him and all my boys and what the world might throw at them. I was standing there, feeling the mom anxiousness kicking in when I looked down and reread 2 timothy 2:21-22. It says, "Therefore, if anyone cleanses himself from what is dishonorable, he will be a vessel for honorable use, set apart as holy, useful to the master of the house, ready for every good work. So flee youthful passions and pursue righteousness, faith, love, and peace, along with those who call on the Lord from a pure heart." I underlined and prayed right then and there out loud with coffee in hand and kid in the kitchen. I prayed for God's will, not mine, for protection, for peace. I prayed we would both be obedient and full of trust. I prayed for forgiveness for our tendency to do it our way and want now answers. 

 It isn't any easier to live with my hands wide open just because my boys have outgrown me.  It can even cause me to want to hold on tighter. When I realize thought that I need cleansed and they need cleansed, that we all have to be emptied so that we can be filled with God and all the better that He has for us, then, I can let go, at least a little, for a moment or two. I want my boys to be men who are found faithful and honorable, who grow their faith and help others along the way.  I want them to know that they can always run into the arms of Jesus.  I, like Paul, recognize that I am limited by so many things but I can pray. I can write. I can live the best example I know how and I can trust in my faithful God to fill in all the gaps. God's love for my boys outmeasures mine and that's more than enough. I'm so thankful for his word which reminds me of that everyday. In the next chapter, Paul reminds us that there will hard times, difficulties and struggles in life's journey, but we never walk alone. God is faithful and knowing that he holds my boys in his palm gives my mom heart the strength it needs to let go and let God today and for all the tomorrows as well.

Trust and Obey

My family laughed out loud at my lent idea! Literally, they all laughed, a couple smirked, and one, who I won’t name, fell out of his seat. To be fair, he got on his knees because that's what I’m doing for lent. I’m committing to a literal, physical posture of prayer. I wrestled with it for a couple days, wondering why and if I was just a bit off, but I’m certain it’s what God wants from me.  This is why I’m going to humble myself daily through this lenten season and seek God. 

I was thinking this through this morning during my quiet time when I came across one of my favorite little sections in Numbers. At the end of Numbers 9 there is a section in my Bible titled “The Fiery Cloud”.  It explains how the presence of the Lord was in a cloud that covered the tabernacle during the day. This cloud turned to a pillar of fire at night and it was the Israelites witness to God's presence in their life. There is so much goodness in this for me! First off, a cloud! I am a sunshine, vitamin D kinda girl! I love blue skies and the warm sunlight in my windows and on my face. I keep my shades open all the time and think of myself as a sun chaser on my winter walks, so this cloud thing grabs me. Clouds bring to my mind overcast or blurry images. The other sign of God's presence was fire.  Now, fire makes me think of haze and fog, fear and unknown.  What I think is that God wants us to look to him and trust, even when it’s not perfectly clear. You see, the other part of this is that when that cloud moved or that pillar of fire lifted, camp broke and they moved! How amazing is that? God’s physical presence moving before an entire nation, in direct instruction! We think that would make it easier but would it really? I mean, they had to trust blindly. I can follow a sunny trial but give me clouds or shadows and I’m more hesitant. These people had to literally pack up and move when the cloud moved. They were clueless as to where or how or what it would look like, they just followed. It’s so crazy to my mind! 

Isn't trust what it always comes back to? I was reading in my devotional and it said, “Trust is not worried or anxious, because it has entered into God's rest. Trust is not confused because it has no need to lean on its own understanding. Trust does not give up or panic. Trust believes that God is good and that He works all things out for our good”. Even when we can’t see ahead because the cloud is blocking or when there is fire ahead and we're filled with fear, if God calls us, we need to go. Whether we know the road or the destination, when we are afraid and unsure, we are called to move, to trust and obey. Sometimes trust involves getting on our knees, getting uncomfortable and seeking God from a more humble and submissive place. I know for me, I want to know, like really know, that things are going to be ok and go the way I want them to. The reality in my life has been that I could never have imagined the things God has had in store. My own plans wouldn’t have led me anywhere close to where my faith has taken me. I’m so glad that God hasn’t let me see too far ahead or I might have struggled to trust in the cloudy seasons. Rarely would I have chosen the fire, but it’s where my greatest refinement has happened and will continue to happen. In this phase of life where my boys are starting to make grown up plans and face so many hard choices, I believe the same for their lives. God's plans may not always look or feel clear but they are sure to always be good and worthy.

At the end of it all, I’m grateful for God's leading and presence in life. My desire is to be faithful, to trust and obey. I may not be able to see him with my eyes as a cloud or pillar of fire but, I can feel him and I can have peace in that. I pray that my life’s testimony sounds like the last verse in numbers 9:23-"so they camped or traveled at the Lord's command, and they did whatever the Lord told them.” 

Also…it was Parker. He’s the one mocking child from the first paragraph…

IEPs and me

IEPs….I think it stands for individualized education plan. I cried in the van after our first one. Several minutes of straight up sobbing sitting outside my friend’s house who was watching my babies, my perfect boys, at least to me. I remember another one where the special Ed teacher afterward wrote me the sweetest note reminding that God doesn’t see my child as needy or autistic, He planned and purposed him and sees a beloved child. I cried after that too! I’ve had IEPs and meetings and evaluations since G was 2. That’s when I knew in my mama heart that he was different. I was scared and nervous, a little devastated, and so naive and uneducated. Today I got the draft for our next IEP. We’ve been at this school long enough that G is known and accepted and the notes on the form reflected that. There are still the test results and some below where he should be and some above grade level Mixed in the midst of all that academic stuff, there are the also the best little nuggets about how he wants to move to DC when he gets old enough to run for President, how he complains but can be redirected and do hard things, about how he’s excited about Spanish but not sure if he’ll make it a favorite. That’s what made me tear up this time, reading the truth and recognizing that God never makes mistakes and G is proof of that. 

Isaiah 61:3 says, “To all who mourn in Israel, he will give a crown of beauty for ashes, a joyous blessing, instead of mourning, festive praise instead of despair. In their righteousness, they will be great oaks that the Lord has planted for his own glory”.  As a parent of a special needs child, there is also a bit of mourning that takes place. It's mourning the expected and so-called normal path, the known. There is  fear and anxiousness over the unknown and unexpected. I have experienced some level of these emotions for each of my boys. I felt fear, anxiety, sadness. I’ve been disappointed in them, in myself, in the world we live in. I’ve cried all the tears, but I’ve also felt so much gratefulness. I can truly say that God has turned my tears into joy. In the case of G, it’s in recognizing that G is that “great oak planted for the Lord's glory”. He challenges and strengthens himself and all of us with the struggles he overcomes. He encourages us with his innocent genuineness and child-like faith in life. He draws me closer to God and shows me God's great goodness just by being who he is and just the way God made him to be. With my other two boys and parenting in general, I've felt the a deep inadequacy that causes me to lean into my Savior. Watching them quickly outgrow me in size and intellect and, sometimes,  faith. It's hard as a mama to let go when we don't know where life will take our babies. I've worried and wondered and hurt and rejoiced, always returning to the One in whom our confident hope lies, the One who can be trusted because he knows how the story ends.

It’s taken some time, some changes in my heart and my mind, but I can confidently say that IEPs don’t cause me to mourn. Today I feel the joyous blessing instead. Blessed to be my boys’ mama. Blessed to trust in the God who planned and purposed each of them. I still recognize and struggle against the unknowns and futures of all my boys but their roots are deep and God's strength is theirs, and mine. 

Tiny Joys

My sister called me an optimist. It was just the other day when we were on the phone and I tried to shrug it off but it stuck. I am a daily gratitude lister for years now. I am a joy-finder and I pray for mine and my family’s lights to shine daily. I believe in the always-working-to-the-good part of God. I’ve camped out there during difficult seasons and He’s always proven that Truth. Do these things make me an optimist?

In this specific conversation I was saying that I had been praying for our mutual friends to find tiny joys in each day. You know, when the remote is where you left it, when the hot water is just the perfect temp of burn but not scald. When the sun peeks in the morning windows and you can literally feel God. When you hear a phrase that makes you tear up and smile at the same time. When the coffee is fresh and hot and the baked good, that it’s obviously paired with, is gooey and just barely undercooked. When you hear a baby laugh in a public place or see a little girl in lipstick and plastic high heels in the grocery store. When the song plays that makes you worship, hands raised in the carpool line or,that oldie but goodie that gets you dancing in the kitchen. Those are the tiny joys. They happen at home or away, at all times, and any time. They are so small you could miss them, which makes finding them and recognizing them even sweeter. They could almost be nothing but somehow they mean so much. I think women notice them easier because they are packed full of emotion and beauty. Tiny joys feel like windows into heaven or glimpses of the great glory of our Lord. They are the next breath you feel like you can’t take in the hardest moments. Those times in life when the world seems dark and hopeless, tiny joys are the seeds of hope awaiting perfect bloom. Tiny joys heal broken and hurting souls because they sneak into us and tie us back to our Jesus. They remind us of His knowing and working and they help us live again and again and again. 

I don’t know if I would call myself an optimist because I recognize the hard and ugly for what it is but, I am someone who will always believe in better and greater and more beautiful than I could ask or imagine. I try to live with eyes open and always looking up and expecting some bit of heaven, some peace, some love. I find that living this way helps me see the good, literally. I can more easily find the joy and my prayer is that this is always true of me. I pray it for others too. Might we see with our spiritual eyes the goodness of our God in this physical, sometimes broken world. May we always know tiny joys. May we feel whisper kisses of our Heavenly Father and may they fill where we might feel emptied and heal our deepest hurts.

Midnight Prayers

I didn't sleep great last night. I woke up repeatedly with my mind running, my cold feet snuggling, and every time, I was mid-prayer. That's just what I do when I can't sleep, I pray. I learned as child to take my worries to my Father in heaven and I can remember being very young and praying that I wouldn't dream. If I did, I would wake up asking God to take it away.  As I've grown up, I still hate dreaming but I recognize that if God wakes me, it's usually because there is something on my heart that He needs to hear. Last night it was for a friend of mine from back home who is in the midst of a fierce storm. I don't know her specifics but I know that last night, I kept praying that she and hers were resting and that somehow, someway, they would have peace in their hearts. I have prayed for family, for friends, for myself, for this world. I've prayed midnight prayers for my boys and Ryan and for my own broken heart at times.

I think in our society today, prayer is too often overlooked. We see a post or hear a story and we hit the care emoji or we say we are praying, but are we? I know for myself that I too often whisper a sentence and then move on but that's not who I want to be.  I feel like too often I cop out and let my mind go to the next post or the next task and neglect the need. I want to be a warrior for others. I don't think it means always being on my knees but if it does then I want to hit the ground and seek the Lord. I want to be always talking to my Jesus about the things of my day and the people in my circle.

Now let it be know that I am not a fancy pray-er. Our grace is simply thanking Jesus for the food. My prayer journal has very few page long prayers and lots more ramblings and coffee stains. I do know though that when I talk to Jesus, he hears and he answers. He doesn't require big words or lofty ideas. I give him my gratitude first and foremost and then I ask. Maybe it's just for a blessed meal, or a fast day, or a good grade on a test for my boys, or, maybe it's bigger like the strength to keep my mouth closed or healing for a friend.  I am always completely certain that He is listening and that He cares. I have seen the yeses and the nos. I have mourned the closed doors that He knew needed shut and I have seen Him open the ones that were for me to go through. I have seen peace that passes my understanding and joy even in deep grief. I have cried tears of all sorts and known His comfort and healing more than once. 

My encouragement for me and each of us, is that we keep talking to Jesus. Tell him the things that hit our hearts hard and don't just pass the opportunity over. I want my boys and the next generation of believers to know that there is a Father who is always listening. No words are ever wasted on Him. He hears our simple dinner grace, he longs to hear our genuine thanks, and he can handle our sleepless nights and scary dreams. Caring isn't just an emoji, it's the willingness to get on our knees, even in the middle of the night, and seek the throne room for ourselves and for others.  It's doing it over and over again.  It's praying and believing and trusting always that He really is a God who hears and answers. 

In the Eye of the Storm

 I’ve had a heavy heart for a couple weeks now. My struggle has not been for myself but as I’ve watched others facing the wind and waves of some of life’s  fiercest storms, I’ve felt desperation for them. My eyes shed tears for the pain and fear and struggles that life sometimes brings our way. It has felt heavy and heartbreaking and a little hopeless. I’ve asked, in my heart if not out loud, the whys that we all wonder when it just seems too much and not fair. All of us have been through storms, none of escape without some battle scars. It’s hard to live through them and it’s hard to watch others suffer and not have the answers or the help to offer them. 

I’ve also been studying in Job in my quiet time. It’s been tragically ironic in some ways to weep for friends who are facing life’s worst and read about Job, his heartache and his response to it. Job went through the deepest valleys. He lost everything that he valued from children, to health, to wealth, to honor. His friends rejected him and the enemy was relentless in trying to break Job’s spirit. Tonight, though, tonight I read something that gave me some hope. It’s a tiny little verse tucked in Job 40:6. It says that, “God addresses Job in the eye of the storm...” Don’t miss it! “In the eye of the storm”. It’s easy to see only the dark and scary and to feel overwhelmed and even a little hopeless when you’re in the middle of life’s storms. Those moments when your goal is just to not cry for a bit, those times when you can’t look up because your heart is just too heavy. Those are hard times. Dark times feel like God isn’t with us or at least we see no evidence of him. But, thank God for the “but”, Job heard the Lord right there in the eye of the storm, right there in the eerie moment of still and silence, maybe the scariest time of any storm, when he was in the middle of the worst. God spoke and Job survived. If you know the story, you know that before God spoke Job was only seeing and hearing and aware of the loss and suffering but, after God spoke, the storm remained only it didn’t break, instead, it strengthened him. He was restored and redeemed and blessed above and beyond.

We want the answers that we aren’t ready to see and understand. God’s ways are above beyond what we can comprehend, maybe just in this moment or maybe on this side of eternity. That truth doesn’t change the storm but maybe it gives us enough strength, enough hope, to look up to our Heavenly Father, to listen for his voice, even in the midst of the worst. A friend of mine the other day said that God is still writing our stories. I like that. We don’t know our endings, just like Job and his friends didn’t know his. We have to keep living, keep trusting, keep seeking the One who turns all the storms into something good. 

Faith Over Fear

 When the pastor asked the question, my answer came so easily. I was sitting in church today and the pastor asked a question about what would you do if you had no fear of failing. No concerns about the possible outcomes, no comparing myself with others, no fear...immediately I said into my mask, where only me and Jesus could hear, “I’d write more”. 

The sermon was based out of the parable of the talents. Jesus told it and it was meant to help his listeners to understand how we are to live while we are waiting on eternity. Talents are not meant to be hidden or stored but shared and multiplied and lived out. Now, to be clear, I’m not saying that writing is even my talent but I enjoy it and I definitely feel close to my Savior when words are involved. The pastor was explaining how fear is the opposite of faith. Fear is something I do understand some and feel a little too gifted with. Fear of rejection, condemnation, judgement. Fear of being known, of not being known. Fear of failure, fear of feeling overwhelmed. The list could go on and on. But Jesus, he wasn’t about any of those fears. He told us only the only fear is the fear of the Lord and that by having faith we overcome that one. I was reminded that what I should be fearing most is coming to the gates of heaven and realizing that I could’ve done more, that I should’ve done more. I don’t want to worry about all the what if’s in this life. I don’t want to care about how I measure up to anyone else or what anyone thinks of me. I don’t want to plan and prep but never make it to go and do stage.  I want to know that I have done well. I want to hear that I was faithful with what I have been given and that it was, and is, good. Isn’t that the point after all? Fear is not defeated by nothingness but by being obedient in the very something that we are most afraid of. 

Lately I have been reminded that there are so many things that we can’t control. Life is full of situations that we wouldn’t chose but that we have to walk through anyway. There are so many hard and unexplainable and difficult circumstances that I have no answers for. When I’m faced with these realities, so often the only comfort I have to offer is my words. Sometimes it’s in journaled prayers or tearful pleas. Sometimes it’s a note of scripture or a word of encouragement. They seem like so little in the face of life. Literally, just letters on a page. Today I was reminded that whatever I have to offer is what I should give. That’s what is good and that is how I can be faithful and obedient. Today I was reminded to write without fear.

This is my act of worship. This is my step of faith. They might be just words and yet so much more because they are meant to bring glory and point all who might read them to an eternal Father who longs to spend eternity with each of us. As it says in Psalm 56:3-4-“But when I am afraid, I will put my trust in You. I will praise God for what he has promised. I trust in God, so why should I be afraid? What can mere mortals do to me?” I’m choosing faithfulness over fear with my words and my actions!