Leaving My Underwear on Top and Other Brave Moves

Today I was brave.  I went for my annual exam, which alone is an act of bravery, and I left my underwear on top of my clothes.

Now, you may be asking how is that an act of bravery?

I recently read a post about women hiding their underwear in their clothes when going to the doctor.  I laughed as I realized that I do that all the time.  As if they don't know that I came in wearing it.  (And no, this is not the time to debate going commando.) 

But why do I hide it? 

I think it's because it represents such an intimate part of me.  It's something I wear close to my body.  It's something that only a few people see.   And it can say a lot about my mood.  Granny panties mean I'm feeling blah.  Cute, colorful panties mean I'm feeling good and confident.  You get the idea.

And just like my underwear, I sometimes want to cover myself and not let people see the real me.  I want to be hidden, not seen.  I want to be safe.  But I've decided that change is in order.  I want to be seen.  I want to be known.  I want to be brave.

So, I left my underwear on top of my clothes.  I don't know if the doctor even saw them, but I knew they were there.  It made me feel confident.  It made me feel strong.  It made me feel brave. 

I'm not sure what's next for me, but I know that I want to push myself to be more honest, authentic, and brave as I live my life.  I'm excited about the possibilities...


P.S.  The next time you're at the doctor's office, leave your underwear on top. I dare you!

There are days I want to quit...

Today I don't feel like writing.  I want to go back to bed, pull the covers up, and just wait for another day. 

I hate days like this.  Days when I think, I'm not enough.  Days when I think, I can't do this. Days when all I can think about is how I messed up.  Days when I would like to quit. 

I know that it's just the old tapes and Satan trying to discourage and derail me.  But knowing that is not enough to stop the lies circling my brain.  I need something more powerful than mere knowledge.  I need SOMEONE more powerful.  And that someone is God....

Amazingly, He will sometimes use people to help get me out of my cycle of shame and disappointment.  Today He is using my children.

It's Spring break so my kids are home, including my oldest.  As I watch them laugh and talk, I am reminded of the incredible blessing they are.  The blessing I wasn't sure I would ever have.  The blessing I was sure I couldn't handle.  The blessing I was sure I would mess up.  Yet, here they are because God was faithful, merciful, and gracious.  And that trumps the lies every time!

How Do You Define Family?

When I was younger, I would have defined family as broken, dysfunctional, frustrating, hurtful,  and virtually nonexistent. 

My father left my mom when I was very young.  For many years it was just her and I.  There came a time, though, when she wanted to share her life with someone.  The problem was that she didn't choose wisely when it came to men.  They hurt her and they hurt me.  She finally came to the conclusion that marriage was not for her.  She told me that if she talked of marriage again, I was to do whatever it took to stop her.  So twelve years ago when she said that she was getting married, I was angry.  I called and told her sternly (I yelled) that she should not get married again.  She ignored my pleading and married.  I had no idea that he would be the man God would use to redefine my family.

Over the years, I watched as he loved my mom well.  He spoke well of her whether she was present or not.  He was patient and kind.  He was forgiving.  He treated her with grace and dignity.  And when she got sick, he did all he could to care for her.  He was the man she had always deserved.

Then something remarkable happened when my mom died.  Instead of my family getting smaller, it grew into something wonderful!  Upon her death, her husband made a promise; we would be a family....always, no matter what. 

Incredibly, I have experienced a greater sense of family since her death.  There is a closeness, a love, a caring for one another that has grown exponentially.  Even his family has embraced us and welcomed us.  I only wish my mom was a part of this transformation.  It's the family she always wanted to create for her children.   A family that still has its problems, but is now defined by love, laughter, and encouragement.

Miscalculations

What would you tell your younger you?  That's the question I asked my family.  One of my sons said, 'I would tell myself that I didn't have enough room.'  I turned to him, puzzled.  'You know, when I hit you in the head with the golf club.'  Oh, how I remembered....

Several years ago after his golf lesson, I was showing his older sister how to hold a club and swing.  Unknown to me, he too was practicing his swing right next to me.  All of the sudden I felt a blinding hit to my head.  It brought me to my knees.  I saw stars and blood began to flow.  He and my daughter looked on in horror.  They thought he had killed me.  He didn't.  I just needed a couple of staples, some ibuprofen, and a couple of days rest. It took my kids a lot longer to recover.  

That's how it is when our perception is off and we miscalculate.  It can lead us to startling and even devastating consequences.  'I thought I had enough money for retirement' as you head out the door to a new job at 70.  'I thought I could trust her' when your secret is now the talk of the office.  'I thought I was smart enough to not make that mistake' as you realize you got taken in by a swindler.  'I thought I could get away with that' as your spouse finds out just how much you spent at the mall.  'I thought I could take care of that myself' as you realize you are in way over your head.  'I thought I had more time' as you look at your loved one in the casket.

Miscalculations...they are unnerving.  They remind us of our  humanness, our fragility, and our need for grace.  And how sweet that grace is when we come up short.  It covers us as we deal with the consequences.  It tells us we are not defined by our mistakes.  It tells us we are forgiven.  It tells us that we are still loved and valued.  It heals and restores.   Grace, take it in deeply and then share it with someone who needs it...     

More Than a Special Day

I saw a story the other day where a girl's high school basketball team let their manager with special needs play in the last game of the season.  The coach talked to the other team about her playing.  They agreed that they would give the girl a little more room and grace during the game.  She was able to make at least one basket and was thrilled about getting to play.  It's a story we've heard before... The boy with down syndrome gets asked to prom.  The girl with disabilities is crowned homecoming queen.  The sports manager gets to make the winning shot.  Those kinds of stories usually make me cry.

But I have to be honest.  Even though I like hearing the stories of special things done for our special kids, they frustrate me.  I think it's great that these kids get a star moment, but as a mom, I want more for my son.  He doesn't want to play for some time in the last game of the season, he wants a chance to play some during the entire season.  He doesn't want to get asked to prom just because it's nice, he wants to go with someone who wants a relationship with him.  He doesn't want to be asked to hang out for one special occasion, he wants to be asked on a regular basis.

My son knows that he's different, but isn't really sure what makes him so.  He's friendly and nice, but he knows that he doesn't get invited to do things like his siblings.  He tries to be social and follow the norms, but knows that he falls short somehow.  It's heartbreaking to watch.  So while I appreciate all the special days, I want more.  And so does my son...

The Lost Year

Have you ever felt like you've lost a year?  You know you lived it.  You got up, ate breakfast, did stuff, went home, ate dinner, did more stuff, went to bed.  And you did that over and over until 365 days had gone by.  But when you looked back, you realized that you hadn't done what you had really wanted or dreamed of doing.  You had just been marking time.

That's how it's been for me the past year or so. I had been doing the things that needed to get done to keep the house running and the kids alive, but had done little with my dream.  It's not because my family hadn't supported me or my dream. It's not because I suddenly became over run with activity and didn't have time.  I had just slowly pulled back from pursuing my passion.  And I had some great reasons why.  I had five teenagers which kept life active.  My oldest daughter was a senior and getting ready to go off to college.  My mom was diagnosed with cancer and was close to my home.  All of those things were true and became easy responses to the questions about why I wasn't writing.  But they were only excuses.  Reasons stuffed with lies. You know the lies I'm talking about.... You can't do it.  You aren't enough.   You don't have what it takes.  There are at least 50,000 other people who can do it better.  Who do you think you are?

Then something happened.  My mom died.  And at the time of her death, she had a lot of unfinished projects, mostly quilts.  Not because she had been putting them off, but because she ran out of time.  (Thankfully, she made arrangements for others to finish the quilts for the quad's graduation next year.)   As I looked at the packed boxes of material and patterns she had organized, I thought of my own unfinished projects.  My own unchased dreams.  Why would I put off doing what I love if I'm still here and have the gift of time? 

So I've decided to ignore the lies and pursue my dream of writing.  I have to admit, there are still days where the lies seep in.  I'm learning to take them captive and throw them out.  It's hard work.  And it's scary.  But I am determined to keep going while I still have time....

Invisibility

I like watching What Not To Wear while I eat lunch.  I love how the hosts, Stacy and Clinton, help people realize the potential in themselves, to accept who and where they are in life, and to dress the body they have, not the body they wish they had.  It's fun to see not only the physical transformation, but the emotional one.  I've been struck by the number of women on the show who, when asked why they dress the way they do, say that they are trying to fly under the radar or blend into the background.  They feel invisible.

I know that feeling.  Those times when I've questioned whether anyone even knew I was in the room.  Or if any one would really miss me if I were gone.  That is a lonely, miserable place to be.

What I found was that as I accepted my invisible status, I withdrew and isolated.  I convinced myself that I really wasn't all that important and wouldn't be missed so I became detached and withdrew.  What's interesting is that as I withdrew, some of my friends saw that as a reflection of their invisibility.  They began to think that they lacked value and weren't missed.  So the cycle of isolation and invisibility spiraled until the loneliness filled our lives. 

The wonderful truth is that we are seen....always.  God is the God who sees.  He sees where we've been, where we are now, and where we will go.  And it's more than just our location.  He sees our heart.....our wounds, our fears, our failures, our joys, our triumphs, our everything.  He sees it all and loves us deeply.  We are not invisible; we are highly valued children of the Most High God....

Is Jesus Enough?

We live in a world where bad things happen.  There's injury to the body and mind, wounds caused by others and ourselves, sickness, death.  With all of the bad, a question begs to be answered...'Is Jesus enough?' 

The question is asked by believer and non believer alike as we grasp for something firm to hold on to so as not to be swept away by the mud slide.  Is He enough to get me through this?  Is He enough as I battle cancer?  Is He enough as I deal with divorce?  Is He enough as I raise my children?  Is He enough as I mourn?  Is He enough as I face my own death?  Is He enough?

As I watched my mom in the last few hours of her life, I asked myself this question.  She had gotten to the point where she could probably still hear us, but was no longer responding to anyone's voice or presence.  I thought about my desire to be there as she died, not wanting her to be alone.  That's when God reminded me that she was never alone.  He was always with her.  He would be there at her passing and He would be there to usher her into Heaven because of what Jesus did on the cross.  Jesus had loved her and redeemed her.  Jesus had made her a daughter.  Jesus had given her access to the Father.  Jesus made it possible for her to spend eternity in heaven.  Jesus was enough for her.

And He continues to be enough for us.  He is there in the grieving, comforting and providing.  He is there in the struggles, offering wisdom and hope.  He is there in the battles, giving strength and perseverance.  He there in the relationships, offering restoration and healing.  He is in the midst of all that we face.  We are not alone.  Jesus is enough...

And the World Goes On

My brother, sister, and I were eating breakfast in the hotel lobby.  I sat there watching people come and go.  Some were families.  Some were business people.  All had places to go, people to see, and things to do.  I thought how odd it was that their lives where going on as usually after every thing that had happened in the last twenty-four hours. 

The night before, our mom had died.  Our world had changed.  Life was going to be different.  There would be no more mother's day cards to buy.  She would no longer be present at family functions.  She would no longer be there to tell my sister what medicine to take when she was feeling sick and didn't have time to go to the doctor.  She would no longer be there to answer questions about her past.  She was gone.  And yet, no one else seemed to notice.  Their lives were just as they had been the day before. 

That's how it usually happens.  Your world gets turned upside down, but the rest of the world just keeps going.  It makes a woman want to scream...'Don't you know what happened?  Don't you care?  How can you go on as if nothing has changed?!'  But the world doesn't stop.  It just keeps moving along.  And somehow, so must we; adjusting to the new normal we've been given.... 

Healed Wounds

Sometimes deep wounds healed over time can be overlooked....

During the last days of my mom's life, my sister and I had wonderful opportunities to talk.  Some were light and surface level, others were deep and rich.  During one time of digging deeper, my sister asked if I had any desire to find and meet my biological father and his two daughters.  I said no.  Then she asked me a question I hadn't thought of asking myself....why?

Years ago, I would have answered very differently.  I considered looking for him.  I had so many questions.  Why did he leave?  Why didn't he visit?  Why didn't he write?  Why didn't he call?  Did I do something wrong?   Was he ashamed of me?  Really, I wanted to know what was so wrong with me that even my own father didn't want me.

So as I paused and searched my heart, I wondered why my answer changed. That's when I realized what God had done.  He had healed those childhood wounds more completely than I realized.  He had answered those questions I had for my father.  He told me that I was HIS child.  He told me that He had made me wonderfully.  He told me He loved me and rejoiced over me.  He told me that my father's leaving was not about me, but about him. 

Now with my questions answered and my heart filled with God's love, my desire to look for my father diminished.  The holes that once peppered my heart were no longer there.  Instead, there was wholeness and peace; there was forgiveness for my father.  God had been working faithfully.  Healing had come so sweetly and gently that I almost missed it....

Behavior vs. Grace

As I was walking past a car full of young men, I heard them laughing and cursing.  I smiled and said hello.  One of them called out to me apologizing for their behavior.  He said, 'we didn't know there was a church lady here'.  I instantly thought of the church lady from Saturday Night Live....Is that how they envision church people?  Pursed lips and condemning?  Worried about making sure people behave?

I thought about his comment a lot.  You see, I'm concerned about how Christians are seen and how that impacts the impressions people have about God.  If all they see are people who are interested in behavior and sin management do they believe that's the most important thing to God?  Frequently, I'll hear people say that they'll go to church or check out God as soon as they 'clean up' their lives.  As if their good behavior is necessary for God to love them.  It breaks my heart.  God is the one we need to run to when we are dirty and messy.

So where does this come from?  I wonder if having been saved by grace, we live as if we are under the law and must behave well.  We become so focused on doing better and living right that behavior and sin management becomes the expression of our lives.  People see us toil and work to behave well.  People hear us talk about our behavior.  People hear us talk about other's behavior (usually in unflattering ways).  People begin to associate needing to behave well with God. 

How radical would it be if our focus was on God's grace, love, and heart transformation?  How would others experience us?  What would they think of God?  I don't know, but I think I'll give it a try.....

Loving the Lost

I have been encouraged to pray that God would give me a tender heart and passion for the lost, those who don't have a relationship with God.   But after a recent sermon, I wonder if I've missed a critical element.

A few weeks ago our pastor, Nathan, related a story about his golden lab puppy getting out of the yard.  He told of his great distress at coming home to find the gate open, no dog, and his wife and son sitting calmly at the table having dinner.  They assumed that the dog would return home or that someone would find it and call the vet's number that was on it's tag.   Nathan related how worried he was and that he was determined to find the puppy that very night.  (Picture a large, burly, manly man talking about how much he loved his puppy in a high pitched syrupy voice.)  He looked throughout the neighborhood for some time to no avail.  When he returned home, he found his wife with some flyers she had made with the puppy's information on it.  They spent the remainder of the night hanging them throughout the area.  The point of the sermon was the focus and determination that God has for he lost and that we, too, should have that same passion.  The point I pondered was the wife and son...

See at first, they weren't all that worried about the puppy.  I'm sure they love and enjoy the puppy, but Nathan is the true owner and lover of the puppy.  So what caused them to start helping with the search?  Did they suddenly develop deep, loving feelings for the puppy that they hadn't had before? No.  Did they think that Nathan was incapable of the task himself?  No.  It was their love for Nathan.  They could see how much the puppy meant to him and that he was determined to find it.  Because they loved Nathan, they wanted to be a part of the search.  Isn't that how it should be for me, too?

The truth is, if I wait until my heart gets tender, I could be waiting a long time!  Sadly, I don't always love the lost.  Sometimes I don't understand their thinking or how they don't see God working all around them.  Sometimes I don't like how they behave, the choices they make, or how they treat others or me.  (Does anyone else see the pride, arrogance, and self-righteousness that goes on in me!)  But, I do love God.  And He gently reminds me of how I, too, was once lost and far from Him.  And I've noticed that as my love for God grows, so does my heart and passion for the lost.  He is changing my heart to love what He loves.

So now my prayer is very simple; God help me to love you more and to love what and who you love.  It should be fun to see what God has planned..... 

Being Cared For

I've always hated those questions people ask about what would you do if you knew you only had, insert time, left to live. I guess because it was always hard to imagine getting that kind of news.  Except for the scare in high school in which I was diagnosed with scarlet fever (my only reference to the disease was watching Little House on the Prairie and people died), I have been relatively healthy.  Just the normal colds, flu, strep throat, and such.  I still have a hard time imagining it for myself, but have a new perspective to the question with regard to someone I love. 

When my mom told me of her diagnosis and that the average time from diagnosis to death was generally four to six months, I began thinking about what I wanted to do in that short time.  The first few things were obvious; make sure she had good medical care, a plan for pain management, a plan for home health care, and a plan for the end.  But the overwhelming thing I wanted to do was care for her.  I wanted to be there to take her to the doctor, help her with medications, help her get things done that were important to her to get done, help her in anyway I could.  The problem was that she was in Arizona and I was in Texas running a household of teenagers.  The good thing was that her husband and my siblings were with her to care for her and help her.  I was thankful, yet still longed to be there.

As it turned out, my mom applied to be in a study with some new treatments for cancers like hers close to my home.  She didn't qualify, but ended up staying at my house for two weeks due to an infection in her port.  I almost feel bad saying this, but I've never been so thankful for an infection.  During those two weeks, not only did all of us spend treasured time together, but I was able to care for my mom in a way I've never been able to do.  You see, this was not my mom's first serious illness or cancer.  She was a strong, independent woman and wanted to do things for herself.  This time, however, she needed help and was physically close. 

I'm not sure why the drive to care for her was so strong, but I think it partially stemmed from the difficulties we had in the past.  My caring for her was my way of physically demonstrating the love and forgiveness I offered her in spoken and written words that she sometimes had trouble believing.  It was my way of extending grace and mercy to her that I had received and knew she needed to experience.  It was a beautiful as she was vulnerable and open and allowed me to care for her. 

To allow someone to care for me. That is my answer to the question of what I would do. There is extraordinary intimacy created when we are vulnerable and open to let someone care for us.  Too often I miss that because I am too proud, stubborn, or self sufficient to admit I need help.  I don't want to miss out anymore....






 

The Keeper of Memories

As I sat there in the dimly lit room holding her hand, my thoughts brought me back to the beginning.  Not her beginning, but mine.  For today would be her last.

I had flown in a few days before to say my final good byes to my mom.  Five months earlier, she had been diagnosed with a rare, aggressive form of thyroid cancer.  She had the tumor removed and had undergone treatment, but the cancer returned quickly.  She even went through testing in Texas to see if she would qualify for a study using new treatments for cancers like hers.  Unfortunately, she did not qualify.  After spending a few weeks with us, she returned home.

Now, a few weeks later, she was in hospice.  The cancer had spread.  It moved into her lungs and she was having more and more difficulty breathing.  My sister and I had been staying with her in hospice through the nights and knew her time was coming to an end.  As my sister settled in for some sleep, I took my place next to Mom, holding her hand ready to be available if she needed something.  I sat there thinking how it seemed so appropriate for me to be there at her end.  My mom and I shared a history that no one else was a part of.  My father left when I was very young so it was just the two of us for many years.  I thought about those early years, the people we knew, the places we moved, the trips we took, the events that took place.  I thought about my sister who died as an infant and how happy my mom would be seeing her again.  So many memories that only she and I shared, some good and some sad, some to be bestow and some to just keep for myself; all of them now to be treasured.

It came quickly, her last breath.  Her nurse said she was probably waiting for my sister and I to get settled for the night.  I don't know if that's true, but the thought touches my heart.  And now that she's gone, I'm deeply thankful for my memories.  I also feel a sense of responsibility as their keeper; deciding which ones to pass on and which ones to hold close to my heart.  My hope is that I choose wisely and share those that will be encouraging and bring joy to those who knew her.

Grieving

As I walked up the stairs, I could feel them coming.  All the usual signs were there: the flushed face, stinging eyes, beads of sweat on my upper lip.  They came as soon as I opened her door.  Tears.  They began slowly, then began streaming down my cheeks as the flood gates opened.  It was the first time I had been in my oldest daughter's room since she left for college.  Her walls were bare.  Her bed not slept in.  The loss of her daily presence gripped my heart.

They came again later while driving.  I passed a billboard celebrating the survival of a cancer patient.  The sadness engulfed me.  There will be no such celebration for my mom.  Her cancer is rare, tenacious, and deadly.  Her healing and celebration will come as Jesus ushers her into heaven.

Grief....the emotional response to loss. Just to say the word brings a heaviness, an ache.  Grief is not something we look forward to experiencing.  In fact, most of us do whatever we can in order to protect ourselves from it.  But it never works.  Grief comes to us all.

So in this season of grieving, I am learning to lean into it.  To feel the loss, the hurt.  To be present and not try to deny it or hide from it.  What I've experienced is not only the sadness, but the comfort, peace, and dare I say it...joy.  Not in the loss itself, but what the loss reminds me of.

I miss my daughter a great deal, but am reminded of our wonderful relationship and the deep love I have for her.  A love I wasn't sure I would ever experience.  And as I have the honor and privilege of helping to care for my mom for a short time, I am reminded of the grace and restoration that God has brought to our relationship.  He has brought us so far and there is great joy in that.

I know that grieving is a process.  There is an ebb and flow to it.  And really, it won't be finished this side of heaven.  But as I walk this path, I know I am not alone.  I have family and friends.  Most importantly, I have a God who is "close to the brokenhearted" (Psalm 34:18).  He gives me His peace and comfort.  He holds me close and gives me hope.  He is the source of my joy.

 

The Mighty Works of God

We went to a Matthew West concert a few nights ago.  It was great.  He not only sang songs, but told the stories behind the songs.   

One was of a young man with cerebral palsy.  The young man related his disability to that of a blind man found in the bible. The account is found in the ninth chapter of John where Jesus' disciples asked Him whose sin caused the man to be blind.  Jesus replied, "It was neither that this man sinned, nor his parents; but it was so that the works of God might be displayed in him."  That's when my son with autism leaned over and said, "That's just like me."  It was all I could do to squeak out an 'uhuh' through the lump in my throat. 

As tears stung my eyes, I thought of the truth of that statement.  My son is well aware that he has autism.  He knows that it somehow makes him different, even if he doesn't fully understand how. He knows that God made him that way for a purpose.  He knows that God has a plan for him.   He knows God will use him.   What he may not know is how God has already used him to show me faith in action. 

I have seen child like faith as my son prays, fully expecting God to work on his behalf.  I have seen boldness in declaring the gospel as my son tells others about Jesus.  I have seen compassion at work as he holds the hand of a young child who is nervous on the first day of bible school.  I have seen persistence as he tries to learn a new skill.  I have seen growth and development where experts told us not to expect any.  I have seen the mighty works of God displayed in him...

Signs of Spring

It's been a very long, cold, bitter winter.  I have friends and family in the North who are tired and weary of the cold, the snow, the shoveling, the ice, and the cancelled school days.  Even here in the South our winter has been colder and longer than usual.  So I can't tell you how thrilled I was to see the first signs of Spring; the tiny buds on our trees and bushes indicating new life.  How I have been longing to see them come!

That same longing occurs when I endure a long, difficult season in my personal life.  A season that keeps dumping more and more on my already overwhelmed circumstances.  A season that sometimes leaves me feeling trapped, keeping me indoors, isolated from others, and unable to freely move about. A season that seems to never end.  I get tired and weary, wondering if I can really make it through another storm.  I long for a new season, new life.  And then it comes...the first signs of Spring.  A day with laughter after the loss of a loved one.  A day at school without a tantrum for your child with Autism.  A peaceful, loving conversation with your teenager who seems to be angry all the time.  A call for a second interview after months of looking for a job.

Signs of Spring.  We need them.  We long for them.  They help us persevere.  They are reminders that this season will end.....

Survival of the Early Years

When people find out that I have five children including a set of quadruplets, I'm usually asked how I did it.  How did I survive and  maintain my sanity?  I usually answer the same way; by the grace of God and our church family.  

God put us in a church that loved others and was willing to jump in when needed.  We had over a hundred people who came to our house to help with babies, house cleaning, lawn work, and meals.  And God supernaturally helped my husband and I to just do what we had to do.  I've noticed, though, that this answer, while true, doesn't seem to satisfy.  Really, what people want are some specific things we did when faced with a God sized calling.  So here are a few.

We admitted our great need.  We knew we were in way over our heads.  In fact, I told God several times during the early part of my pregnancy that I was not going to be able to handle five kids.  I was not equipped in any way shape or form.  And this was not the plan that we had for our lives.  Admitting our need may have seemed like an obvious thing to do given the circumstances, but it was difficult.  My husband and I were driven people who liked to control and plan things.  (We still do.)   We were taught to do what you had to do to help yourself in life.  Now we had to admit to others that we needed help; we couldn't do it ourselves.  It was hard. 

We let others help even when it was uncomfortable.  It was strange having people in our house all the time; seeing our dirt and mess.  Women came to our house to clean our toilets and mop the floors.  Those are things I would normally do before people came over. Yet all I could do was thank them.  One of the most difficult days for my husband was when our pastors wife mowed our lawn.  She was just being a mom and helping her teenage boys who had volunteered to mow.  But there she was, in the front yard doing what he had always been able to do, but couldn't now.  Letting others help was very humbling.

We prayed.  We prayed for God's help, His wisdom and guidance, His provision, His strength.  And He was faithful.  God provided laborers.  He provided expensive formula from a doctor who knew our need.  He provided financially through my husband's job.  He gave us strength when we were at the end of ourselves and felt like we just could not go anymore.  We experienced first hand the miracles of God.

I reached out for specific help.  As I said earlier, I was not equipped for five small children.  I knew I needed help.  I asked a  wonderful woman (the one who mowed our lawn) if she would meet with me and be my mentor.  I had questions about raising children and she offered answers covered in prayer and love.   I reached out to my doctor when I thought I was going crazy trying to keep it all together.  (She had four kids including a set of twins so she understood my life!)  I reached out to a Christian counselor so she could help me with my perfectionism.  I reached out to friends to help me maintain perspective and provide fun and laughter.  I learned the importance of community and friendship.

We took breaks from the day to day demands.  My husband and I had a lot of dates the first couple of years after the quads were born.  We knew we needed time to be together and reconnect as a couple.  We also gave each other breaks.  The best thing my husband did for me was book a hotel room for a night.  I would go in the afternoon and not come back until the next day.  I got to do whatever I wanted.  I would sleep, read, watch a movie, eat an entire meal before it got cold, and enjoy the quiet.  He did this several times for me.  It's probably the main reason we're still married and I didn't lose my mind!

In the end, it boiled down to God's grace and our church family.  It still does....

This is not Goodbye

Since my children were born, I've known that God has a plan for their lives, an eternal purpose for each one of them.  A purpose to bring honor and glory to Him.   For this, He has gifted each one of them and given them each a passion for something.  (Even if they're unsure of what that is now.)  So in my season of preparing to let go of my children, I hold on to the knowledge that God loves each one of them deeply and that He has a great adventure prepared for them.  One where they will know Him more intimately and personally.  One where they will be salt and light pointing others to God.

I have rediscovered a song from the Sidewalk Prophets called This is not Goodbye from their Live Like That CD.  It's a beautiful song that speaks to this very idea of letting go so that someone you love can go be who God created them to be.  Enjoy...with Kleenex.

Being Seen

Lately, I've been watching What not to Wear while I eat lunch.  I enjoy watching how the hosts help the contributors realize their potential.  They help them to accept who and where they are in life and to dress the body they have, not the body they wish they had.  It's fun to see not only the physical transformation, but the emotional one as well. 

The contributors vary in age, gender, ethnicity, life experiences, family situations, employment, etc.  But I am struck by a recurring theme for many of the female contributors... wanting to be invisible and unknown.  They are so afraid of rejection or so used to it that they think being invisible is a better alternative.  So they either fade into the back ground or dress in a way to garner attention, but still remain anonymous.  How sad.  Yet, it's become a way of life for many women.  And it's a lonely place to be.  I know; I've been there.

Like most women, I long to be seen, to be known, and be loved.  Yet, my fear of rejection kept me from letting anyone see the real me for many years. I was so sure that if people really knew me, the good, the bad, and the ugly, that they would pull away or condemn.  So I hid.  I made sure I didn't stand out.  I tried to do the right things, say the right things, and be what others wanted me to be.  As I lived trying to be unknown, I found myself withdrawing and isolating.  I convinced myself that I didn't have real value.  I was sure that in the end no one would miss me.  Besides, how can you miss someone you don't really know?  But God...

But God stepped in and showed me the truth; God does see me.  He knows me fully.  It was He who created me; formed me in my mother's womb.  He knows the number of hairs on my head.  He knows the good, the bad, and the ugly. He knows where I've been and what I've done.  And yet, get this, He loves me....deeply and unconditionally.  There's no need for me to shrink into the shadows and hide.  I am fully known and loved by God.  And so are you!  Let these truths settle in and take root in your heart.  Let yourself be seen.  Venture out and be who you were created to be.  And know your courage just might give others the boldness to step out of the shadows, too....