One of those days...

I'm having one of those days...one of those days where my to do list feels three miles long and I'm spewing emotions all over the place. It's not pretty.

See tonight I've opened up my home to friends old and new, acquaintances and strangers to study God's word and Lysa TerKeurst's Made to Crave. Which is why I found myself de-cluttering my kitchen this morning instead of using my "quiet" time to read my devotional and Bible and to pray. I should really know better by now.

I know that by starting my day this way my day goes more smoothly. I feel more in control. I have more patience. I enjoy my day.  But this morning I listened to Satan's lies telling me my kitchen clutter was repulsive and more important.

Then my children were up and I found myself rushing Eva to get ready for school and losing patience with my little two.  I snapped at my husband. I found myself looking around at my house; one that I typically find cozy and comfortable but all I could see was how it was lacking.

Then came the email from church saying the books for our study, the ones that were supposed to be here, are not here. They've been delayed by the weather. I took it upon myself to worry and fret and stress about whether or not they will make it here today.

Then I started looking at myself and how the jeans that fit well yesterday now felt tight. My sweater no longer fit right. Who am I trying to kid? I was feeling like a failure, like a hypocrite. Completely inadequate for leading a group of women through God's word.

So I found myself crying and yelling and pleading with my husband to pray with me over the phone. It's one of those days that I just want a re-do and it was only 8:30 in the morning.

I prayed (and apologized) with my husband. I put our youngest down for a nap. I put a movie on for Lorelei and determined to ignore all the "bad mom" thoughts for letting her watch tv.  I sat down and opened up my devotional, Unglued, also by Lysa TerKeurst. Here is the first thing I read:

Forget the former things; do not dwell on the past. See, I am doing a new thing!

Now it springs up; do you not perceive it?

I am making a way in the wilderness and streams in the wasteland.

Isaiah 43:18-19

It was exactly what I needed to hear and exactly when I needed to hear it. If I had read that a few hours earlier I doubt it would have been as significant. It went on to talk about how on "one of those days" you need to stand firm on what you know and not get whisked away in a sea of emotions.  That I am the boss of my feelings, not a slave to them. That a few bad moments don't make me a bad person and they don't define who I am.  That I need to position my heart in a place to experience God.

For me, one of those places where I hear God is right here on my blog. So I sat down and opened up a new post and my fingers have hardly been able to keep up.

Bad moments don't define me.  That's not who I am! I am not a failure or a hypocrite. I am a lavishly loved child of God.  My husband, my children and my home are blessings.  And He has put me on this journey, leading these women through God's word and Made to Crave.

Father God, remind me that you are always here for me on good days and bad.  Help me to enjoy the good ones and to look for how you are turning around the not-so-good ones.  Give me your power to react in a graceful and godly way when I'm having "one of those days".  Shut down Satan's attacks against me. Protect the women that you have put on this journey with me. Remind us all of your love and and our need for You.  And if it is safe to do so bring those books through the snow to us. :)  In Jesus precious name, Amen.

As I wrap this post up the snow has stopped  falling and the sun has come out making the snow glisten and glitter in such a spectacular way.  Everything is once again white and pure and beautiful.  It's like God just smiled at me and gave me a re-do.

Finally, bothers and sisters, whatever is true, whatever is noble, 

whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely,

whatever is admirable - if anything is excellent

or praiseworthy - think about such things.

Philippians 4:8

The stealing of innocence...

A while ago my dear friend Shelly asked me what I thought about "tag teaming" and writing about our experiences with depression.  I immediately thought it was a great idea and then she said something about digging deep and I inwardly groaned.

I know nothing is wasted in God's economy. He uses the good stuff and the bad stuff. We may never know who or what or how.  I've been on the receiving end of someone using all their hurt to guide me along and so I believe that God is calling me to do the same.  But some stuff is just hard to talk about, hence the inward groan.

Shelly, author of Just Trying to find My Way and I were tossing around ideas of how to approach this tag team effort; our goal being to let those who are suffering from the same stuff that they are not alone and to maybe help explain to those who have a loved one who is suffering and just don't understand it.  We were throwing around topic ideas when she said "why don't we just start at the beginning?" Well why didn't I think of that?

For me, I grew up the classic oldest child.  Independent, stubborn, perfectionist.  I was born to lead, born to boss other people around.  I saw everything in black in white, right and wrong.  And I was my own worst enemy.  My mom often said she never punished me because the way that I was so hard on myself was worse than any punishment she could have doled out.

I wasn't a straight A student in school which meant there was always room for improvement. I put a lot of pressure on myself.  I found math and science to be hard and I struggled.  Pulling in those B's made me feel like a huge failure.

I was always comparing myself to everyone else and I always fell short.  I was never pretty enough, thin enough, athletic enough, smart enough. I never had the right clothes and my curly hair was not the right style. I wasn't popular.  I was pretty much a big bully, but to myself.

By the time I hit high school I remember feeling like my emotions were on a constant roller coaster only I mostly bounced between angry and sad.  We had a family history of depression and anxiety and so at the time it made sense to start some antidepressants. They helped in evening out some of the extremes but they left me feeling numb.

I started working when I was 15 to save money for a car. And because I was an all out go-getter, I picked up a second job too. When I was 16 I had my car and a night off so friends and I decided to go "cruising".  Does anyone still do this?  Seems so silly now, driving that mile loop over and over.  But it was the thing to do and we had fun.  I remember this particular night we spotted some boys cruising and at some point stopped to chat them up.  They weren't from our same town so we didn't know them. One of them, who was a couple of years older took a liking to me and asked me out.  I was over the moon flattered, and agreed.

I think I was one of the last of my friends to date.  It seemed like they had all been dating for a while so of course I was always wondering what was wrong with me that no boys took an interest in me.  But my night finally came and I was so nervous and excited I could hardly breathe.

I think he had a job interview so I waited around for him (talk about romantic) and then we went out for burgers.  We went for a drive and then parked at this park and sat in his car and talked.  He seemed so nice and things seemed to be going so smoothly.  Then in a blur of details I won't go in to he raped me. It was my first date. My first kiss. My first everything.

I remember he dropped me at my car and I cried the whole way home.  Somehow I knew it had to have been my fault and the guilt and the shame were suffocating.  I think I even wrote him a letter apologizing.  I felt worthless, like trash.

I stuffed the memories and tried to go on with my life.  I think on the outside I probably appeared pretty normal.  Studying, hanging out with friends, working. When I was a junior in high school I started taking college classes part time.  I thrived on the pressure to do more, be better.

I remember seeing him at college once, from a distance.  It threatened to shatter all the broken pieces that I was barely holding together.  A year or so after that sighting I was in my apartment, checking my voice-mail when my world shattered.  He had gotten my number from someone and wanted to know if I wanted to go out some time....four years later.

I told my parents. I moved out of my apartment. I think I even changed my phone number.  I was so scared. I started counseling and I learned there that being date raped was not my fault.  It took many years to come to a place of acceptance and of healing.

Sharing this part of my story is leap of faith and a feeling of God's prompting. I don't know how God is going to use this one. It is one of those things I wish I could delete from my past and never have to think of (or share) again, yet I know that it's a piece of what's shaped me to be who I am.

Meanwhile, the moment we get tired of waiting, God's Spirit is right alongside helping us along. 

If we don't know how or what to pray, it doesn't matter. He does our praying in and for us, 

making prayer out of wordless sighs, our aching groans. He knows us far better than we know ourselves and keeps us present before God. That's why we can be so sure that every detail in our lives of love for God is worked into something good.  Romans 8:28 

*To read Shelly's tag-team post, go to www.somethingaboutthecolororange.blogspot.com and read The stealing of innocence...

Love your neighbor as yourself...

When my husband and I were house hunting I don't think we ever considered the neighborhood.  We were pretty focused on the house, which is normal I suppose.  However the house we bought is in one of those neighborhoods where your house and the one next door is separated by little more than your driveway.  Definite potential for awkward moments if you and your neighbor don't see eye to eye.

We were lucky though and hit the neighbor jackpot.  The woman next door was a single, hardworking mom with two beautiful daughters.  I think the girls were pre-teen at the time and they took a liking to my husband right away.  Since sometimes he's like a big kid he was always ready for a snowball fights or a water balloon fight.  I remember one day he even came in the house and said they had pulled him over on his bike for speeding and could I "make" him some money to go and pay his fines.  I knew he was going to make such a good daddy.

It wasn't long after that that our oldest daughter was born.  The youngest next door started babysitting her when she was around six months old and she's been our go to babysitter ever since.  I've never had to worry about my kids when she's here.  They even go to bed for her which is truly remarkable.  She's always willing to help too.  Like when I was laid up in bed during my third pregnancy, not only did she come over and watch my kids all day, she also helped me make the cake for Lorelei's first birthday. Or when we were in the NICU with our youngest and she helped out watching our kids and made sure the dog got fed and let out.

She's a senior in high school and she'll be leaving before we know it.  We are going to miss her dearly.  It's been such and honor and pleasure watching the neighbor girls grow up into such beautiful and caring women.

I know they turned out so great because of the way they were raised.  I've always admired their mom.  I knew she worked hard all day, commuting thirty minutes or more and then came home and was mom and dad. She took pride in their home and was always taking care of it and improving.  Then I would think of all the others things she was doing too, laundry, cooking meals and helping with homework.  The thought of it all made me tired and I'm sure she was but it never showed. She was always so happy and positive and encouraging.

Then she met her fiance and I watched her happiness grow and grow.  And even though I know they will be moving soon, with no kids left at home to be closer to their jobs I couldn't be more delighted that they found each other.  It will be a joyous occasion when they get married in a few days.

Now maybe I'm coming off as a stalker-ish neighbor but when you live 20 feet from someone else's house for nearly ten years you develop a rapport.  We've become those neighbors who borrow a cup of sugar, a stick of butter or a bag of shredded cheese.  The neighbors who call each other when you realize you are not going to be home and the dog needs to be let out. The neighbor you call to borrow the game of Scrabble who says "Sure, I'm not home right now. But here is how you break in..." The neighbor you call to rescue your cat from a recliner or a bunny from your window well. The neighbors you find yourself talking to for thirty minutes when you only meant to take out the garbage. And the neighbors who make homemade sympathy cards when your pet dies.

They are the neighbors that invite my kids over to frost cookies or play games for a couple of hours so I can have a "mommy break" or a nap.  The neighbors that take our kids out for ice cream and collect worms for them to play with.  The neighbors who don't freak out when my girls play on their lawn and let them pull their flowers to give to their mom.  The neighbors who exchange Christmas presents and go to one another's birthday parties.

The verse "Love your neighbor as yourself" keeps running through my head.  And how could you not love your neighbor when they've always supported and encouraged and motivated you?  They've set the bar pretty high for whoever our new neighbors may be and I know that they will always have a very special place in our hearts.

An hour of prayer...

The church we belong to is holding a week of prayer.  They encouraged people to come to the church and pray for one hour, 24 hours a day for the entire week. I was skeptical at first when I heard about it. Could I pray for an hour? Why would I have to come to church to pray, can't I pray at home? Who is really going to go to church in the middle of the night to pray?

My husband and I talked about it and decided we would sign up for an hour and go there and pray together.  When I arrived to sign up the time slots where nearly full, even those in the middle of the night.  We picked 9 pm on Wednesday night and our sweet neighbor agreed to come sit at our house with our sleeping children.

On Monday and Tuesday I heard all these incredible things about other peoples prayer times.  They gushed about how God met them there and that an hour wasn't nearly long enough.  They oozed radiance as they talked about it, even if I couldn't see them in person.  What if I didn't have that kind of experience? What if I went and missed the point all together?

We arrived for our time slot and relieved the people that had been praying before us.  They were glowing, beaming really.  I was really anxious to get started and see what this was going to be all about.  We followed the guide around to different stations in the room.

At the first station we simply praised.  There was music playing and scripture to help you along.  There was an art station set up for those that like to praise that way. The next station was confession complete with note cards where you could write out your confession and then place them in the paper shredder.  There was a station in which we prayed over our church staff and leadership.  Then a station where we prayed for our community and one where we played for the world and the missionaries we sponsor.

As we followed along our prayers became more intense and I regretted the skepticism I had had about praying like this.  At the last station we were to meditate on Psalm 23 and 24 and listen to what God told us.  My husband and I took turns reading them out loud and then waited.  And God met us there.

He reminded me, in light of my post yesterday: Big Scary Dreams, that he has blessed us abundantly.  That I need for nothing. He told me I did not need to be afraid because He was walking by my side. Before we knew our hour and then some was up but it was hard to leave and when we stepped outside into the dark cold night I'm pretty sure we were glowing.

We really should have went to bed when we came home with our new early morning routine and all, but Dana had some homework to finish and my mind was so full that I really didn't think I could fall asleep.  Pretty soon it was midnight and we were just crawling into bed.

At one o'clock our 2 1/2 year old woke up.  She was complaining of ear pain and running a fever.  She shares a room with our 1 year old and even though the sleep 5 feet apart they usually can sleep through the other one's cries, but not this morning. They went back and forth with the crying while we got Tylenol and teething tablets, drinks of water, diaper changes.  We took turns separating them and trying to have them lay with us in our bed.

I seem to lose every last ounce of patience as a mom in the middle of the night.  My husband on the hand is the opposite. So patient and loving and kind. So I lay there listening to one of them cry with the other in bed with me, racked with guilt because he needed to be sleeping with these long days he's putting in.  So I took the crying child, our youngest, upstairs and told my husband to get some sleep. She's been eating us out of house and home lately so I thought maybe it was hunger pains and she needed a snack.

So that is how I found myself sobbing over Cheerios at 2 am.  My husband came up and hugged me and then he said "Of course Satan would attack us tonight."  I thought "well, yeah, since we decided to stay up until midnight." Then it hit me.  It was because we had been diligently praying, because we had been seeking God and filled with the Spirit. I was mad then and I renounced Satan and told him to get lost. It was sometime around 2:30 that everyone fell into a deep sleep and it was not easy to get up with my husband when the alarm went off at 5.  But if he was willing to do it, so was I.  We are after all, a team.

And now I sit here drinking coffee and reflecting and praising God for last night.

God, my Shepard! I don't need a thing.

You have bedded me down in lush meadows,

You find me quiet pools to drink from.

True to your word, You let me catch my breath

and send me in the right direction.

Even when the way goes through Death Valley,

I'm not afraid when You walk at my side.

Your trusty shepherd's crook makes me feel secure.

You serve me a six-course dinner right in front of my enemies.

You revive my drooping head; my cup brims with blessing.

Your beauty and love chase me every day of my life.

I'm back home in the house of God for the rest of my life.

God claims earth and everything in it, God claims the World and all who

live on it. He built it on ocean foundations, laid it out on river girders.

Who can climb Mount God? Who can scale the holy north face?

Only the clean-handed, only the pure-hearted;

men who won't cheat, women who won't seduce.

God is at their side; with God's help they make it.

This, Jacob, is what happens to God-seekers, God-questers.

Wake up, you sleepyhead city! Wake up you sleepyhead people!

King-Glory is ready to enter.

Who is the King-Glory? God, armed and battle-ready.

Wake up you sleepyhead city! Wake up, you sleepyhead people! 

King-Glory is ready to enter.

Who is the King-Glory? God-of-the-Angel-Armies: He is King-Glory.

Psalm 23 & 24

Big scary dreams...

When my husband asked me if I thought he could go back to school I immediately became his biggest cheerleader.   I knew it would be challenging to have him working full time and going to school part time with three kids under 6.  I knew there were areas I would have to "pick up the slack". But I never second guessed our decision for him to go back and God made it pretty clear that this was the path we were to take.

So I was baffled when I found myself sitting on the couch this afternoon crying.  It was his third day of school, the third day of our new "normal" and I found myself thinking "how am I going to do this for the next four years?!?"

It all started this morning when our 2 1/2 year old woke up and excitedly said "Daddy make pancakes!" I tried to explain that daddy had went to work hours ago and well, mommy is no good at pancakes.  She settled for a bowl of mini wheats, something mommy is good at.  I got to thinking about Saturdays which is always our pancake morning except he won't be here now, he'll have to be at work Saturday mornings. When I mentioned it to him he said he would teach me to make pancakes...but I have my doubts.  I'm not such a good student in the kitchen.

This led me to thinking about all the other changes. If you know me, you know that I am not a morning person.  However, I decided I really like having a hot breakfast with my husband (and honestly if it weren't for him making it I'd be eating mini wheats too).  I also thought if I had any hope of having some quiet "me" time I should try to get it in first thing in the morning.  So I've been getting up at a 5 am with him.  Last night I tried to stay up while he did homework but apparently I fell asleep sitting on the couch with my kindle still in my hand.

I knew last night he wanted to get a jump on his homework so I attempted to corral and settle the girls before bed. I'm also on my own in the mornings now, getting them all ready for the day.  Pretty soon I was feeling really overwhelmed and really tired. I felt blindsided by all the changes that were happening.  Why hadn't I thought this through? I'm a planner after all.

If I had thought it through, would I have told him not to go?

Then the tears came. I knew I had to tell him how I was feeling but I felt like I wasn't being supportive if I did.  I knew I was building things up in my head and making it seem more daunting that it needed to be.  I knew I just needed some time to get in my groove and establish a new routine.  I felt guilty that I had been taking for granted how much he helped me with the kids and around the house.

He stopped by home for a quick lunch between work and heading off to school.  I really tried to keep it all in check while he was here but he knows me so well.  As he was getting ready to walk out the door he said "Are you okay?" And I started to cry again.  He looked so torn but I knew he had to go to school. He hugged me and called me a few minutes later from the road.

I caved and told him everything I was feeling.  Unsupportive, guilty and ashamed.  He reminded me that we are a team and a really good one.  Things are going to change.  The next few years will be bumpy and challenging but we're in it together.

Once again I feel like God's making me move out of my comfort zone and pushing me to trust His plan for us.  I heard someone once say "If your dreams don't scare you, then they are not big enough."  Part of me wants to say "Oh, but things were so nice and comfortable the way they were." but I know that's not going to cut it.  Besides, if it's scary, it's usually pretty exciting too, right?

Grace...

I've been mulling over the word grace for the last few days.  Grace is defined as God's unmerited favor.  Basically, being loved when we are unlovable.

One of my favorite lyrics comes from David Crowder's How He Loves, it says 'if His grace is an ocean, we're all sinking'. My husband and I went on a cruise for our honeymoon.  Our day at sea we got up early and perched ourselves on the rail to watch the sun rise out of the ocean.  I remember feeling so small and insignificant.  I also remember my husband telling me how God created that perfect and spectacular sunrise just for us.  Maybe he was just trying to be romantic but we both knew it was true.

Sometimes it's hard to wrap my head around it.  That God loves me as big as the ocean felt that day, stretching out endlessly in every direction.  After all, who am I to deserve this great big love when most days I feel so unlovable?

And that's just it. I don't deserve it and I never will.  There isn't a thing I can do to earn God's favor and yet He keeps lavishing me in His love.  I love how the Message portrays this in Isaiah 43:1-7 (paraphrased):

But now, God's message,

the God who made you in the first place,

the One who got you started:

"Don't be afraid, I've redeemed you.

I've called your name. You're mine.

When you're in over you're head, I'll be there with you.

When you are in rough waters, you will not go down.

When you're between a rock and a hard place-

it won't be a dead end-

because I am God, your personal God,

the Holy of Israel, your Savior.

I paid a huge price for you:

all of Egypt with rich Cush and Seba thrown in!

That's how much you mean to me!

That's how much I love you!

I'd sell off the whole world to get you back,

trade the creation just for you.

So don't be afraid: I'm with you.

I'm round up all your scattered children,

pull them in from the east and the west.

I'll send orders north and south:

'Send them back.

Return my sons from distant lands,

my daughters from faraway places.

I want them back, every last one who bears my name,

every man, woman and child

whom I created for My glory,

yes, personally formed and made each one.'"

We sang a new song at church today. I've got an affinity for songs that can make you feel and this one tied together all the things I was thinking about grace.  It said "your grace abounds in deepest waters, your sovereign hand will be my guide, where feet may fail and fear surrounds me, you've never failed and you won't start now, so I will call upon Your name, and keep my eyes above the waves, when oceans rise, I will rest in your embrace, for I am Yours and You are mine". 

For I am Yours and You are mine...