Decide In Your Heart

A friend of mine is a budding photographer. I took the kids to meet her this week. Jaxie will be one in a month and I have an empty frame in the living room begging for his first of many annual pictures.  Knowing from past experience that the older 2 would likely freak out, I told them that they didn't have to participate. They could if they wanted but it wasn't required.

We went to the battlefields. We unloaded the cars and carried things and children out to the field. There were so many pretty textures and natural backdrops. Tina started taking pictures of all of us while we were getting settled. When the focus became Jackson, Ethan took notice and started trying to get his attention instead. Then he started putting in for gum balls that I had forgotten in the truck. It wasn't exactly a quick walk back. So, I tried stalling. Ethan was relentless. Within a short time, I was making the trip back to the truck to get the gumballs anyway.

Only, Ethan wasn't satisfied when I handed them over. Instead of one, he wanted two. Instead of red, he wanted white. Now, with gumballs in hand, he wanted to go explore a building on the property. Of course he couldn't because he's too young to go alone. He's pushing so hard. It catches me by surprise. And yet I've seen this all before. It's become a reoccurring theme between us. I can already see how the day is unfolding. I start getting anxious and I begin pummeling my internal list of questions. Do I put my foot down? Do I have to go so far as to whip him? -Here or there? Do I let the boy go be a boy and explore? Am I a helicopter mother? Is he testing boundaries or am I short changing him somewhere else? Why is this so complicated?

I tried distracting him again by attempting a group shot of me and the kids. I got on the ground so that they could jump all over me. It seemed to be working. It seemed like we were all getting back on track and then out of nowhere Sophie became hysterical. She didn't want to stand. She didn't want to sit. I made her get leaves on her tights. I don't really think that she knew why she was crying but as far as she was concerned, the world was ending. I took her back to the truck to get changed into jeans. Defeat is starting to sink in.

Sophie and I make it back to Tina and the boys. The distraction of the group shot was forgotten. Ethan picks up exactly where he left off before about the building. Can we go now? I am annoyed. I had envisioned in my mind that we'd get pictures and then go off exploring the building, the canons, and anything else. But yes, let's get this out of the way. We go to the building. 

Somewhere in the back of my mind I am still trying to get that group shot. I just want ONE picture of 3 kids that look like they're not being tortured. Well really, I love them. I want a thousand pictures of them together looking happy. I don't realize it then but this desire is really driving the rest of the day. For some reason, I just keep trying. Ethan keeps resisting. -On the walls outside of the building, on the fence and in the grass again, I am still trying.

The day finally comes to an explosive head. One that suddenly wakes me up and I realize that this dynamic cannot continue between us. Not today. Not in the future. Later there is a sweet spot. But the tone had already been set. It's playing low in mind. By the time that we got home, I was exhausted. We all were. After dinner we got in my bed and the kids watched a movie. I recounted the day.

I read a bloggers post about how anger was really sadness with a mask. I let the story settle. The next morning I woke up with a heavy heart. I recounted the day, from the moment Ethan asked about the gumballs.

I thought about that article. Was I angry? No. I was anxious. Was there an underlying reason for my anxiety? What on earth was I anxious about? And why does it resurface in the same exact spot, every time. -When I am being tested by him.

Then I think of Philippians 4:6.  Be anxious for nothing, but in everything… let your requests be made known to God.

I realize that I never once reached out to God in that moment of need. This girl, who prayed for and received a 1” toy donkey when there was no time left to find one. This girl, who prayed for and received help with her father, when his own father was on his deathbed. This girl, who has prayed a million other little prayers between those two; never once considered asking God to help her with this thing that seemed to defeat her regularly. How many other moments in my life are Godless? I know that there must be many but how many? I wonder if the day would've been more peaceful had I started off right. I stop and offer repentance and a request for help right then.

Then back to the problem. It's not anger that immobilizes me in that moment. It's anxiety. But why?

I think of the words decide in your heart, which come from 2 Corinthians 9:7. I realize that under all of that anxiety, I am engulfed in a sea of emotions ranging from:

• Frustration of being tested.
• Exhaust from its reoccurrence.
• Guilt because I feel like I never see them and I wonder if they simply need MORE than I am giving.
• Uncertainty, because they are little. Perhaps, I demand too much.
• Shame, because sometimes I think I just need to get a grip and be the parent.
• Sadness, because I just don't know sometimes, if I am doing this right.
• Even love. Despite the testing, I still love them and sometimes, I just want to go sit on them and hold them down and push their little cheeks up into a smile, and say "Hey we're going to enjoy this moment dangit!"

Who knew parenting was so hard? As I write this, I realize that my anxiety is because I have not decided in my heart which one of these emotions will steal these moments, or the next one when it happens again. Ethan pushes twice as hard because he also, does not know.

I've been thinking that my issue was because I don't follow through often enough. Really, it's that I can't serve 2 masters or however many others that I just outlined. (Mat 6:24). I have not decided in my heart which one of those emotions will lead and so they all compete, keeping me from defining what the rules really are. How could he know if he's crossing the line, if I never decide when or where to lay it down?

I suddenly feel the need to write a mission statement on a post it note, so that I can fold it up and put it in my wallet. The next time this happens, I will freeze time and pull out my note and remind myself what I said was going to happen...  I'm only half serious but I know that I must decide.

I cannot lead effectively if I am hung up on fear or guilt or shame. –And I must still follow rules when I feel those things, so what I teach my children should be no different; particularly when it comes to respect and safety. Nor can I pretend to make things optional with the kids when I clearly have a goal in mind. Like having a silly picture… sigh.

Thinking about the situation in this light, changes the way I feel about it. I now feel as if I have a secret weapon in my pocket. Wisdom and a plan.

And I thank God for the power of prayer.

Freedom | Part One

This week I started thinking about freedom and what that means to me. I look at my life now and compare it to when I was in high school throughout my early 20's. It was a particularly dark area for me. There was a period that I was suicidal. I was bitter and hopeless and lost. Not always, but enough to make me restless. I was however, all consumed by my ache. Nothing soothed it, covered it or made me forget it.

Things were constantly moving in my life. If anything tried to stay, I wouldn't let it. Mostly because I was so accustomed to change that I didn't trust anything that was still. I had no idea what to do with stillness. -Especially if it stopped to look me in the eye. What would it want? I had nothing to give.

At 16 I was saved at Brownsville Revival. (Google it sometime. It was incredible.) I felt like God singled me out and called me from the balcony. I'd never felt anything like it. I ran from the balcony, around half of the church and FLUNG myself on the alter. I drove home with the windows down and yelling at the top of my lungs. I was on Fire for God.

As soon as I got home, I went and got my bible. It opened to the parable of the lost sheep. (Luke 15).  I noticed God speaking to me for the second time. I wanted to keep reading but wasn't sure what to read. So, I highlighted all of the "Verily, Verily" verses in my bible because I thought that they sounded funny. (Strange, I know). I couldn't wait to get back to that revival. I went every chance that I could. -For a season-

At 19 or 20, I discovered Joyce Meyer on TV and got hot on that. I started going to church again and was baptized at 21. But the heat cooled and life got busy. Little things started to replace that time. There were many other moments with God between then and now but truthfully, it wasn't until I later became pregnant with Ethan that I would allow myself to become uncomfortable for God. I committed to church regularly because I wasn't sure that I would be diligent enough to teach Ethan myself. I sincerely prayed for roots. I wanted something different but I just had no idea how to obtain it.

After a few years of that, I started also going to a weekly bible study at another church with a group of friends and coworkers. It was another commitment that carried me through a couple of years. The last study that I did with that group led me back to my own church completely.

I told God that I would accept the next need presented at church and I prayed that it wouldn't be with kids because they made me uncomfortable. God has a sense of humor.  The very next Sunday, it was announced that there was a need for a lot of nursery and Sunday school teachers. I cringed and signed up. I knew that the commitment kept me coming back even when I wasn't feeling the "fire". When I became comfortable there, I was presented with a need to lead the Women's bible study group and I accepted that commitment as well. Now I am beginning this venture with no real knowledge of what is taking form.

I think to myself about the verse: Isaiah 43:19 "See, I am doing a new thing! Now it springs up; do you not perceive it?"

As I pondered that verse, God is talking to me about spiritual growth and where I came from. Which led me to reading read a couple of articles about farm tilling. Soil is comprised of many living mechanisms. Several of the articles suggested that tilling can be too aggressive, damaging the roots to other surrounding plants and also damaging the soil. We try to hurry God along. "Get that good stuff in quick, so that I can get there already." But God is a Master Gardener. He knows what is needed, how much and when.

If he let me grow too fast my roots might not be big enough to support me. If he let me grow too soon, the soil might not be hearty enough to sustain me. Growth is a process. Sometimes, it happens so slowly, that we doubt that it is a possibility. There were years that I felt buried. Maybe God's "new thing" was breaking up a little of that dirt around me. Slowly. Tilling is not one of his methods. Maybe his next new thing was breaking up a little more. And again, a little more.

Maybe for those years that change didn't feel or seem evident around me, he was still cultivating the perfect soil for me. And then one day he planted a seed. A seed takes time to germinate. You and I could stare at the ground and be bored to tears waiting for life to break through. But it is happening. We might not see it. It's under the ground. A root is forming. A sprout is emerging.

I did pray for roots. I wanted to fit in my life. I wanted to know what was mine and learn to be still. God was answering my prayer(s). I grew roots in my family. I grew roots at my job. I grew roots in my church life but also in my faith. However, I also had a part to play in that. I had to commit. I had to consume his word when I had no appetite for it. I had to wait for his timing. Then I had to reach when it was uncomfortable. Layer upon layer he brought me up out of that darkness.

It makes me think about teaching a child to walk. We, the parents, just keep backing up an inch, in order to get the child to take another step forward until we get them where we want them to be. In reaching for him, he was able to move me. If 'I' never reached beyond my comfort zone then I would never experience a "breakthrough". Surely he is the master of the universe and could've handed it all over to me or fixed my every problem but then I would never learn the impact of my actions. -The power of my decisions.

Anyone particularly close to me knows that I've felt like I been in a transformation for the last 3 years. There was a shift happening. It was very unsettling to me. I had no idea what or when or where.  I repeatedly thought it was my job because I didn't know what else it could've been. I couldn't explain it if I tried. However, these last 3 years have been when I have gotten outside of my comfort zone for God, committing in any way that I knew how.

In my most silly voice, I think to myself- "Was I germinating?"  (You can snicker a little. I like that.) But my heart really stops to consider it. I felt like things were coming apart. The husk was breaking. My protective layer was falling away and all of that newness was culminating into one purpose and it was springing forth. As much as I was reaching out, he was sending in. I was being transformed.

The last few months I've felt him pull up roots. Not all of them and I don't know specifically which ones. Nothing physically has changed. Spiritually he is realigning me. This is a growing and a settling season for me. He wants me to go deeper but he is calling me to rise.

"Rooted and built up in him, strengthened in the faith as you were taught, and overflowing with thankfulness. (Colossians 2:7 NIV84)"

I am learning that by finding the fleck of him in every moment; is what creates the stillness. This year, I will be home more. I am going to earnestly seek him, trying to absorb every fleck so that I can discover who I am in my faith. I will journal and study his word and let him water my soul. A new strength is becoming known. I can feel my limbs of faith unfolding. It is a freedom of awakening and coming to life.

Clanging Cymbals

I am a loud person. I always have been. I walk heavy. When I sigh, it's like I've been holding my breath too long and I am taking another deep one so that I can go back under. Sometimes I fidget. I slam doors. My fingers even stomp when they are typing. If my gum is good, I -enjoy- the chew. ... And I yell. 

I am sure that my neighbors must think I'm crazy. I seem to be yelling all of the time. "GET YOUR TAIL OVER HERE!" "GET YOUR SHOES." "WH- A-A-T ARE YOU D-O-OING?"  or "COME HERE" (Can you tell most of my yelling is at the kids? and my dogs.)

Sometimes when I start feeling that twinge of awareness about my yelling, I try to "phone a friend" to get the mood lighter and so I change my words to "HALLELUJAH, HALLELUJAH, GLORY DIVINE. THIS CRAZY WOMAN IS LOSING HER MIND!" After a few more, crazy, sing-song thingys, I start to get less loud.

The sad part is, I am often not as angry as I sound. I'm like an animal that puffs himself all up, to appear bigger to the other animals, just so that no one else gets any wild ideas. I am bigger and we'll do this my way. Other times, I'm pretty sure it's an adult version of a temper tantrum. It's got to look ridiculous because the child version looks ridiculous. A big girl having them can't be any better. Getting a puffed up chest doesn't mean that I have more muscles. Just like getting louder doesn't mean that I have anything better to say.

I've really been trying to practice using my "inside" voice. I think that I've gotten a lot better but I can't wait to be completely free of it. The loudness is unnecessary. Sadly it creates more "noise". Then it's harder to hear the words.  I am just a "resounding gong or clanging cymbal” as stated in 1st Corinthians 13:1.

I believe that Joyce Meyer once said that If you think that you can't help the way that you are, pretend that you were in front of someone that you really wanted to impress; or consider whether or not your behavior would change in another environment. I thought about being at work. I couldn't imagine answering the phone at the top of my lungs because I was in a hurry. -Or yelling at another adult in a hall at school, or church, or the library because the person was dawdling instead of coming straight to me. I wonder what is it in me that might not want to impress my children or my dear husband. Aren't they the most important people in my life? When I come home from work and take off my work clothes, do I drop my respect and care in the same pile? Why wouldn't I want to impress them more than anyone else?

***

The next part is choppy so bear with me.

A blog I love is "An Inch of Gray". Last night I read it until I cried. Of course, if you read her post from 10/4/2011, you will find that it won't take long to cry in many of her posts. -And then I read some more- There is something about being humbled that just makes everything easier. I've gotten to where I am regularly seeking ways to dial my heart back down a notch. This time, I did it here.

And then I found this on another blog:

Winston Churchill once said, “We make a living by what we get, but we make a life by what we give.” The only way to say this better is found in 2 Corinthians 9:7 - 8, “Each man should give what he has decided in his heart to give, not reluctantly or under compulsion, for God loves a cheerful giver. And God is able to make all grace abound to you, so that in all things at all times, having all that you need, you will abound in every good work.”

I realize that such a petty little thing like yelling shouldn't matter in the grand scheme of things. But that vast span of eternity can take a long time to cross if mine and my beloved are ever parted. I just don't want to hang on to old “should haves”. There is a giving in me that is even bigger than I am. I don't want a “petty little thing”, like being too loud, keep others from getting close enough to accept my gift(s).

And that is all.

Intentional Love

A friend shared this blog around Christmas. I love the imagery at the end. Having children myself, I know how excited they get when I am on their level. Since reading it, I've thought a lot about my relationships. -But with a slightly different tune.

The kids are probably the easiest example to use and so I will continue using them. How many times do I avoid getting on their level because I am too tired and I don't want to be beat up, or because there are dishes in the sink that need to be done instead. In the evening when the kids go to bed, I am usually trying to outrun them to my own. When they do go to sleep, I don't always stay up and talk with Colin. Then 7 days of this exact process becomes a week and then another. Then I scratch my head and wonder why I feel "disconnected". Why we all feel disconnected.

Jackson seems to be the easiest to stay connected to. I'm sure that maternal love plays a strong role in that and how, by instinct, I am naturally drawn more to the weakest/youngest child. But I am also still nursing. I make it a point to feed him several times a day. While he's in my lap, I play with his toes and sniff his hair and makeup silly songs about him.

As for everyone else, we're not always disconnected. We each take turns and sometimes those disconnects are outside of the house. Since reading that article, I half question, if the closeness that I feel with Jackson, is really because of how much more effort that I put into it. Even when I am too busy and too tired, I still make time to feed him because it is a necessity for him. Once I am finally sitting there, the other actions follow. Then my "want to and love for" get stronger.

Ist John 3:18 says "Dear children, let us not love with words or speech but with actions and in truth." I wonder, simply, what if I treated love as the necessity and acted on it instead of waiting to feel like doing so. Much like that article with God coming down; What if I intentionally went to where I knew that I could find that love and restore or create the connection.

Everyone is already there waiting. I know where I can find them. I just need to go and tap in.

Flooding waters or silent streams

Earlier this week, I read a post on a friend’s page. My friend is going through a trying time in a relationship and his post was left, most likely, in the heat of the moment. Usually, I just ignore those posts because they are none of my business. I understand the feeling that he was expressing though and know that there can still be goodness beyond that point if he can find the strength to push through.

The bible tells us repeatedly that feelings are misleading. ("The heart is deceitful above all things and beyond cure." Jeremiah 17:9 NIV84) I personally have felt the power of being able to believe that love was there, even when it wasn't felt; and because I pushed through and overrode my feelings, I was able to experience a restoration. - In more than one relationship. I wanted to encourage my friend that there could still be goodness beyond whatever hurt or anger that he was feeling now.

Either way, for whatever my reason or motive, I chose to reply on his comment. But the passion for my point took over and the words flooded from me.

To make matters worse, I really didn't know his situation. I had a fact wrong. Some of his friends took offense and jumped to his rescue. (With good reason)  James 3:5 says that "even a great forest is set a fire by a small spark." Instead of soothing anything, I had now started a new blaze. I promptly apologized because that wasn't at all what I intended.

We all need to control our tongue but as a "Believer" I need to control my own tongue even more so. God’s word is soothing and refreshing. I am called to encourage and share. However, instead of inviting my friend to talk, I just unloaded a bunch of words.  No matter how genuine they were and/or what the sentiment is behind them, the point is completely missed because there were too many, too fast and I, more than likely, blindsided him instead.

Ironically, I was trying to encourage my friend about resisting feelings and yet I didn't resist my own "feelings" to push a point... While I do believe the words I left; I didn't even ask him what he needed.

It reminds me of a silent and cool stream. On a hot day, I might be drawn to drink or swim, to sooth and refresh myself. However when you put a certain amount of force behind that same water, it can be used to cut, strip and destroy. My words were much like that of a pressure washer instead. Completely unleashed.

I hope that my friend either never felt the threat or quickly forgets it. However, for me I hope that it always serves as a good reminder.  The next time I feel that "flood" coming. Am I inviting others to be refreshed or will my force push them away.

***

Those who consider themselves religious and yet do not keep a tight rein on their tongues deceive themselves, and their religion is worthless. (James 1:26 NIV)