Sinless

I've been known to have a strange and wandering mind. I'll find myself thinking on something and be halfway down two dozen rabbit trails within a minute. It's probably a family trait, as I've seen it play out in conversations amongst my extended family. Start on one topic with four people and about two minutes later we've got seven different conversations going on.

So, all that to say, my mind. It wanders.

At Christmas time I thought about who could have been there for Mary during the birthing of Christ. Due to Jewish cleanliness laws, I have no trouble believing Joseph (who is called "faithful to the law" in Matthew 1) had no part in it. It'd be unheard of in that culture. So another woman (or women) no doubt. And seeing as how everyone was coming into Bethlehem, I find it easy to assume that they probably weren't even alone in that stable. Who else would the inn maker have offered it to in order to make a little more money during this extremely busy time? And if not even a person staying at the inn, surely there would have been a woman nearby who would have been sought out. It's not as if childbirth is this quiet, peaceful event. So I always wonder - who was the woman/women blessed enough to usher Jesus into the world? 

Anyway, that thought niggled my mind. (What? Niggled is a word, my spell check says so...) As I came into the Lenten and Easter season, being a mother, once again I thought of Mary. My dear, sweet, wonderful children are perfection. But, they are also dear, sweet, wonderful human beings. So they sin. It seems to happen quite often. I began to wonder how life must have been for Mary (and Joseph), raising a sinless son. Surely there were still frustrations and arguments because Mary, after all, was human. She sinned. So did she recognize that her son was sinless and that any hindrance in that perfect familial relationship was purely  from her own failings? How long did it take before she realized this? And what about his half-siblings? How did they feel having a perfectly sinless brother? I mean, couldn't that get down right annoying? Or would it all have been ok, since, ya know, Jesus would have handled it all perfectly.

I don't intend any disrespect or facetiousness. I honestly wonder. Because how often do we attribute the frustrations of motherhood on the actions or attitudes of our children? But how often ought we to really consider that we are also to blame? All the time, it seems to me.

So my heart goes out to Mary, living with her sinless son, all the while harboring her own sinful heart.

Comfort (Warning: VERY long post ahead)

It isn't unusual for babies and small children to have some kind of security blanket or comforting friend.  I mean, even my 20 year old brother still sleeps with Blank, and I'm pretty sure he's not embarrassed to admit it. I'll admit that I have a teddy I sleep with, gifted to me by my husband as the first birthday gift of our relationship.

As with all things, no two kids are ever the same in the way they need comforting. My daughter, AM, is three now (be still my heart). When she was only a few months old, someone gifted her a very soft & fuzzy white blanket - only about 12 inches square - that had a small angel tucked into a pair of wings. The angel was quickly abandoned, but that blanket has stayed. "Fuzzy", as he is affectionately called (yes, he), could be found stuffed under AM's nose, and is usually a dull gray color between washings. I'd post a picture, but it'd probably gross you out. My very thoughtful mother-in-law even saved us by buying 2 more of the exact same blanket to use as backups (we quickly stopped bringing him into stores for safety reasons). Of course now all 3 are often needed, though we can usually manage to convince her that one will suffice. Car trips, nap & bed time and general being around the house are all occasions to need Fuzzy within reach. When it came time to send AM to preschool, we were able to convince her that Fuzzy would keep her car seat safe and warm while she went to play. I'll be honest, I was a bit worried.

EF has never had any one toy or blanket he felt particularly drawn to as a source of comfort. I think AM's devotion is enough for all. Though, bless her sweet heart, if EF is feeling blue, AM will offer up a Fuzzy to him. You have no idea the level of sacrifice this entails. This simple act of empathy always make my heart grow 20 sizes as it swells with pride and joy. What else can fill a mother's heart as she sees such displays between her children?

Those simple acts remind me so clearly that God uses humble and seemingly foolish acts to demonstrate his own qualities. If my daughter is able to find comfort in a blanket, and then share that comfort with her little brother, how much more will the God of all things lavish his comfort on my own troubled spirit?

2010 was a year when I needed God's comfort in a profound and extreme way. Few people know that before Ainsley, Dan and I were expecting another child. It was with joy we found ourselves "in the family way" just about a month and a half after getting married. And it was with a very heavy heart that we celebrated our first Christmas as a couple, no longer looking toward a baby in our future. The first few months I spent here were lonely - new state, new apartment, no job, no car - and then were filled with the grief of losing my child. I thought I could never feel so devastated again. I was wrong.

In July, Dan and I discovered I was pregnant again. We were nervous - 3 kids ages three and under left us thinking that life was about to get extraordinarily overwhelming - but so joyful. Children are always a blessing and we knew that the Lord was able to give us beyond all that we'd need. Little did we know that once again we'd have to walk the dark road of grief. And let me be honest here - you may think going through something you've gone through before makes you prepared to handle it. You'd be wrong. In fact, this time around, it seemed things were harder, the grief heavier. I'd say it's because we knew the joy of children, and were somehow more aware of all the potential joy now taken away. I'd say it's because you think after going through two healthy and relatively easy pregnancies (as if any pregnancy could be called easy! HA!), you think you're safe, protected. (Obviously that's just not true, but it doesn't stop you from believing it anyway.) I'd say it's because this has been a time when most of my friends have announced their own expected bundles of joy. Now, let me make this very, very clear: I am so insanely happy for the friends of mine who are about to become parents (whether for the first or second or third or... you name it... time), but it also breaks my heart a little bit. With every announcement (and I counted at least 2 dozen among my Facebook friends within a few months), I felt reminded that I was no longer on the list. With every status update about sleepless nights, weird cravings, contractions, milestones and ultrasounds, I felt the painful stab of knowing that I wasn't experiencing the same thing. 

I needed God's comfort. I needed it bad. I was getting so depressed, it was beginning to play out in my life. I would find myself snapping at AM and EF as it insidiously eroded away my patience. My head was saying, "Snap out of it. You know God loves you. You know He plans all things and is wiser than you'll ever be. It's not their fault, stop taking it out on them", but my heart was just crying out and seeking ways to make others as miserable as myself. I spent nights unable to sleep, tossing and turning with the thoughts of my children I would never hold. I sought consolation among friends who have experienced miscarriages, or who knew me through other terrible moments in my life. And, as one friend shared, "It's like carrying a 500 lb stone for the rest of your life. It's not that the stone gets lighter, it's that you get stronger."

In effect, I was trying to make myself unavailable to the comfort and grace God wanted to lavish upon me. I would shake my minuscule fists and scream, "I'm angry. I'm hurt. You have taken away such joy. I don't trust you to give me anymore." And most people would stop there, nursing the anger and frustration until there was such a wall built up that it seemed impenetrable. What foolishness. God can do all things, and he promises to give us comfort. It took a long time, the prayers of many and immersing myself in the promises laid out in places like the Psalms, Lamentations and even the New Testament. 

Why should we ever seek comfort anywhere else? 

Lamentations 3

¹⁸ So I say, “My splendor is gone
   and all that I had hoped from the LORD.”  ¹⁹ I remember my affliction and my wandering,
   the bitterness and the gall.
²⁰ I well remember them,
   and my soul is downcast within me.
²¹ Yet this I call to mind
   and therefore I have hope:
 ²² Because of the LORD’s great love we are not consumed,
   for his compassions never fail.
²³ They are new every morning;
   great is your faithfulness.
²⁴ I say to myself, “The LORD is my portion;
   therefore I will wait for him.”
 ²⁵ The LORD is good to those whose hope is in him,
   to the one who seeks him;
²⁶ it is good to wait quietly
   for the salvation of the LORD.
²⁷ It is good for a man to bear the yoke
   while he is young.
 ²⁸ Let him sit alone in silence,
   for the LORD has laid it on him.
²⁹ Let him bury his face in the dust—
   there may yet be hope.
³⁰ Let him offer his cheek to one who would strike him,
   and let him be filled with disgrace.
 ³¹ For no one is cast off
   by the Lord forever.
³² Though he brings grief, he will show compassion,
   so great is his unfailing love.
³³ For he does not willingly bring affliction
   or grief to anyone. 

And so while I would gladly welcome a new bundle any time now, I can honestly say that I am finally feeling that comfort. I'm no longer devastated when I read all those Facebook statuses. And I can never thank the Lord enough for opening my eyes to the grace that has been there all the time. (and those who have been lifting me up before the Father)

Once

I once started this blog. It was a place I was going to visit. And friends were going to visit too. We were going to share our journeys together - have some fun, shed some tears and generally just, you know, make our every move and feeling available to the whole wide world. This crazy internets thing.

But, as is my fashion, I discarded the blog after only 13 posts. Thirteen little gems that talked about food and fitness and ... something else that might start with F. I can't really bring any good ones to mind. You see, as much as I love to have others hear my brilliance (and there is so much to share), I just have never been very good at discipline (you may have noticed from the tone of the other posts, ahem).

Also, there is a certain lack of time. Every now and again I'd think of something I'd like to share, but it just never happens because there are two small children that live here. And a grown man. And a dog. But no more fish. The fish died over Christmas - I think we kept the house too cold while we were gone. It's ok, though, none of us were really that attached to the fish. Anyway! Time happens. And it keeps on happening. And it slips by faster and faster (like toilet paper). So, the blog, never a real priority, slipped on down the stream.

But I did want to share some things with the new year. I love The Valley of Vision. Have I shared this before? (Thank you, dear Hannah, for sharing it with me in the first place.) And there is a prayer in there that is often on my heart. In fact, I'd say right around Thanksgiving, as my birthday approaches along with all those other holidays, my mind begins to turn on the thoughts shared within those verses. It doesn't need much of an introduction, because, I'll be honest here, the words are so beautiful on their own, I hate to mess them up with my own cluttered thoughts and emotions. But it brings me to tears (or nearly) every time I read/meditate on it.

So, as you start your new year (isn't every day new year's day? I mean, it's always a year until this day comes back again... I digress, as usual), please enjoy this.

Year's End

O Love beyond Compare,

Thou art good when thou givest,

when thou takest away,

when the sun shines upon me,

when night gathers over me.

Thou hast loved me before the foundation of the world,

and in love didst redeem my soul;

Thou dost love me still,

in spite of my hard heart, ingratitude, distrust.

Thy goodness has been with me another year,

leading me through a twisting wilderness,

in retreat helping me to advance,

when beaten back making sure headway.

Thy goodness will be with me in the year ahead;

I hoist sail and draw up anchor,

With thee as the blessed pilot of my future as of my past.

I bless thee that thou hast veiled my eyes to the waters ahead.

If thou hast appointed storms of tribulation,

thou wilt be with me in them;

If I have to pass through tempests of persecution and temptation,

I shall not drown;

If I am to die,

I shall see thy face the sooner;

If a painful end is to be my lot,

grant me grace that my faith fail not;

If I am to be cast aside from the service I love,

I can make no stipulation;

Only glorify thyself in me whether in comfort or trial,

as a chosen vessel meet always for thy use.

Amen! And let me tell you, I've had some trials in 2010. I mean, who has a year that doesn't include trials?! But that's for another post...

love.

Living with Thanks

One of my favorite hymns of the Lenten/Easter season. is To God Be The Glory. The melody is written with such joy, and the lyrics are so true, that it just lifts me up every time. Glory be to God for his great gift to us, and let the words we sing truly be a blessing to Him.

I can't remember the last time I actually got to sing that song. Perhaps last year at this time? I don't know. I hope we have a chance to sing it this year... If not, I'll be singing here at home at any rate.

Songs are one of the greatest ways we can give praise to the Lord. Even if you aren't what most people would consider a great singer, or even a mediocre one, it's ok. I'm fairly certain the Lord does not take into account the tone and key of your praises if offered in genuine faith and God-glorifying ways. (Of course this isn't to disparage good singers - they have the responsibility and privilege of blessing both God and others through their talent.)

But as someone who falls into the not quite good category, I find comfort in the fact that my only audience is God. And my kids, who have yet to complain and often ask for more. 

Why are people so scared to sing in front of others when it's a hymn or song of worship? I find it's usually, but not by any means always, the guys who are more nervous and apt to mutter their way through a song that is bursting with joy. Not sure if there are any fellas out there who read this, but if there are, could help a sister out? Or, sister types who may share in the timid singing, feel free to help out too. Because I know some people who are really, really bad at singing (not to name names, but let's just say I've known a great man who is a terrible singer for going on 28 years now), but they still belt it out. Perhaps it's just getting to a place where you are more comfortable with God than with others around you.

I know that I struggle with praying out loud in front of others, so perhaps it's the same feeling? In my case, though, I know it's about the words I have to say. When I can read aloud a prayer from Valley of Vision, I'm ok, but praying on the spot can make me nervous. With hymns, the words are there for you. But I suppose it's still that feeling of messing up? I don't know.

I love corporate worship. It's one of the things the church should be about. The chief end of man is to glorify God and enjoy him forever. I believe it. We should be singing the Doxology all the time in our hearts. Praising and thanking the God from whom all blessings flow; perhaps rotating the Doxology with the Gloria Patri.

Maybe it's because I started out my Christian faith in a Presbyterian church that sang the Gloria Patri every week, along with reciting Apostle's Creed, but I find we don't sing/say them enough. In fact, I went from using these every week, to a church where we said them often, but not each week, to a church where they are never spoken at all. I have to admit I find that kind of strange. It seems like a good idea to corporately say, "This is what we believe" - to remind ourselves of this. Now, I don't think we need to go all high order or anything and recite them every week, that becomes too rote for most people. I keep meaning to ask my pastor's why our church doesn't ever use them at all. Is there some great secret about them? I don't know.

Anyway... All this to say, we should consistently have a song in our heart, offering praise to the Father, Son and Holy Spirit, without whom we would have nothing, and be nothing.

And we're back!

Is over a month long enough between blog posts? Yes, I believe it is.

The race has come and gone. I did much better than I anticipated - nabbing a time of 22:53. It must have been ordained because my race number was 222. Overall, I'm very pleased with how I did, particularly considering my training for the previous month had been rather slack. With traveling to northern climes, sickness making its rounds again and again through our small family, Dan's long hours at work and my general laziness, I went in rather nervous on Saturday. It was obvious to me I'd finish, but how well I would do was not entirely clear to me. But my gracious Heavenly Father provided perfect running weather - cool and overcast. This may seem an odd description of perfect running weather, but I tell you it is - no sun to be in your eyes, cool so you don't overheat (as running really does make you warm enough), but not so cold that your lungs freeze (this is important. I promise).

One interesting thing was trying to pace myself amongst this huge crowd of people. According to the website, there were 1556 people that finished the race. You can imagine how it felt just before the air horn sounded the start - all of us crowded onto the street in less than one city block, moving to keep warm and glancing around or talking to friends. I felt kind of awkward being alone, but one the air horn sounded, it was fine. I was in my own world. Eventually, I settled into a groove where I was comfortable - mixing running with fast walking - and I began to notice the people around me. One person I noticed was a girl who I think was about my age, and to be honest, seemed about my skill level. I used her to pace myself, and I could tell she was probably doing the same. We'd pass each other often, usually walking and running in similar intervals. Essentially, I used a total stranger to spur me on when I had no one else (Dan and Ainsley were great cheerleaders at the finish line, but that was 20 minutes away). 

If I'm able to feel that encouragement from a stranger in a stressful situation, imagine the encouragement we garner from our friends!

There's a blog post that I have been working on for a month now. While I was home with my parents, I was able to attend their church. It's pastored by my former youth pastor, who I love dearly and have always found to be one of the best speakers I've ever heard. The week I was there, he spoke on the ten lepers healed by Jesus, and how only one returned to offer thanksgiving. You can listen here: http://ctknj.wordpress.com/ctk-blog/sermons-2009/ (it's the sermon from 2/21). It really resonated with other thoughts I'd already been trying to process, and post on here, but life got in the way and this blog became back burner charcoal. So in the meantime, listen to it, and then I'll be back with thoughts!

Meandering Back

When I was younger, I would play a game with myself - I'd memorize license plates and people's features in the hopes that something major was about to happen and the police would need an eyewitness. I wanted to be that eyewitness. Now, I also enjoyed reading a book full of crime scene photos to try and figure out what happened, so perhaps I was a bit preoccupied with justice from a young age ;) That, or I was just a weirdo. But anyway. 

(Now, before you say, "Why would any parent let their kid read such a thing?!" - because you know you're thinking it - let me tell you that I'm not even sure where the book came from, or that my parents knew I had it on my bookshelves in my closet. Yes, shelves. I had many, many books. So they can't be blamed for my interesting reading habits.)

I could memorize phone numbers after hearing or seeing them once. It was no trouble for me to find my way places after one visit (which, thankfully, I can still do most of the time. Being blessed with a sense of direction is nothing to sneeze at, trust me). People's names and faces were easily connected in my mind, along with what they were wearing, where they stood and even how they spoke.

Honestly, I had a gift.

And yet, somewhere between then and now I've lost it. Gone. Never to return. Not sure if it's my old age (I mean, seriously, I'm practically hobbling along) or the fact that I've given birth to two small humans, but my brain has left the building. Let's blame this one on the kids. During both pregnancies I'd lovingly refer to my children as parasites. Dan didn't like that so much, but he didn't experience the mind-numbing effects that a pregnancy can bring on - exhaustion from sharing all you have with another being, and slowly having your brains drip down the umbilical cord. This has led me to a theory that the reason we have generational sin is because as our dear children are in-utero, they are able to basically download all our past transgressions and store them for future use. Whether it be a stubborn and contrite spirit, or a general mischievousness, those kids have learned it all from sucking out my memories.

Anyway, scientific hypothesis aside, suffice it to say that this old gray mare, she ain't what she used to be. And somehow this makes me develop a restlessness like never before. I've always been a fairly restless person. I'm not the type to want to stay home all the time. Let me go, let me out, let me run free across the mountains and prairies! I could not wait to leave for college and explore the world. Every other week as a child I'd want to be something else, go somewhere else, find something new to discover. Basically I was, and still am, a career schizophrenic. Truly I think there are so many jobs I'd love (as long as they allow creative freedom and don't make me sit behind a desk 9-5).

I was reminded of this last night. For the past few days I've been messing around with different signs, cards and other goodies that let me flex any creative muscles my taxed brain has left. Whenever I start getting involved in projects like this, I think to myself, "Self, you could have a lot of fun as a graphic designer." You can also insert fabric, stationery (but definitely not stationary), cake or just about any art for graphic in that sentence.

Then, I watched an interesting program on KET about an anthropologist named Melville Herskovits. I don't remember hearing about him before, but it's entirely possible I spent a semester on him. (Please see previous paragraphs for explanations as to how this is so) He studied under Franz Boas, an anthropologist who is considered the founding father of American anthropology, and someone who is near and dear to my heart. (Not like that hag Margaret Mead, but we won't go into that here, since most of you are already lost I'm sure) At any rate, it made my heart ache to be back learning under Dr. Hummer and Dr. Meneses. I think the time I spent at Eastern in the Anthropology & Missions dept. was one of the best of my life. The friends in those classes are on my mind often, and just bring a smile to my face. Watching just made me so wistful, and I began to think of all the different paths my life could have taken if I had made different choices to pursue academia more.

But my life didn't take those paths. There are no alternate universes. (I have never ever seen an episode of Lost in my life, but noticed a lot of Facebook status updates today regarding this show and the idea of alternate universes. Any references made in the comments will be utterly lost on me - no pun intended) And I think part of the working out, as it were, of my restless mind and nature is one of the reasons I so often fail when I set goals for myself. I get bored, distracted and forgetful, and abandon half finished projects for the next thing.

Lately I've been so busy, then sick, that I've had nearly no opportunity to run or work out. And I find myself half wanting to head over the the track, and half wanting to just say, "Oh forget it, it's only a fun run, so I can walk that whole thing". That, however, would mean I had once again failed to finish, and let my restless (and yet lazy) spirit take the victory.

So tomorrow I'm going running. (Tonight we have potluck at church, and I've missed two weeks in a row already. Since this is my primary social event of the week, I just can't miss again or I'll go crazy). And this weekend I'll go running.

I've got to give focus to the wanderlust of my heart. Or it may just wander off on to another trail again, and we can't have that now.

Busy Bodies

I've had lots of plans to write here, but life has been really busy, mostly because Dan has been really busy. It's a wonderful blessing that he has a secure, well-paying job, but it'd be nice if they didn't rely on him so much! He's the go-to guy on things he doesn't even work on, and is often called on to fix things other people just can't figure out (despite it being their job to figure it out). So most days this past week were spent going in early and coming home late. Which meant I had lots and lots of time with the kids. All this led to pure exhaustion on both our parts.

So I didn't get to run or work out much.

That's what I was trying to say.

On Sunday, we went to the pool down the street for a family swim time, and apparently our whole day had the same idea! On the way in, I slipped and fell (it was a rainy day). Since I was holding Eben, I pretty much let my one knee take the fall, and now it is a-hurtin'. I find it funny that injuries tend to hurt more a day or two later than the initial incident; I guess because it has time to swell and all that.

I wanted to take a chance to thank all of you who have been praying for me, particularly in regards to my spirit of despondency. Despite the physical exhaustion of this past week, I've been feeling much more joyful and content in spirit. I know this is a direct result of prayers on my behalf because there is no other reason, and many to the contrary, why I should now be less melancholy.

So thank you! And here's hoping I'll be able to keep up a bit better now that Dan has solved the world's problems... Ok, at least at work. (for people half-way around the world)