October 16th, a Wednesday evening. I had read on facebook that a plane heading from the capital to the South had crashed, killing all 49 on board. I am ashamed to say that it was just another news item, something I registered in the passing, thinking I'd get back to it later. Which I did, but in unexpected ways. It wasn't until it became apparent that someone I actually knew had been on that plane that the reality of it all sank in.
It took many days to find all the parts of the plane, to pull the bodies out of the river, to identify the victims. It still seems so surreal that this young couple is gone. And yet it really happened. And we are left behind, dealing with the shock and pain and sadness while they have moved on ahead of us into glory and light and goodness and neverending beauty and contentment and bliss.
Death remains a mystery, yet constant companion. I have seen joy and sorrow mingle as we celebrate a life well lived and reminisce about favorite moments with those who have passed away. We are shocked and left speechless when death happens suddenly and unexpectedly. I think of my grandfather, who was ready to die and yet held on to life for much longer than I would have thought. Why do we fight death? Or fight to live? Especially when we know what is waiting for us?
In the past few years there have been many goodbyes. I said goodbye to my grandfather. Others said goodbye to their father. Some had to say the dreadful goodbye to a baby - one born with severe deformities, one born still after a car accident which in itself remains unexplained. A former colleague and teammate died at age 22 after battling an illness.
Though death comes as a welcome relief to some it still leaves us grieving. Weeping for those that have moved on ahead of us. We weep for moments we are deprived of. Seeing a child grow up. Holding grandbabies. Saying one last 'I love you'.
We weep and fight and pray for life because life is a gift. God breathed on Adam and gave him the breath of life. God formed us and knit us together in our mother's womb. He gives us this life, this day, as a gift.
And life is made up of thin places. Places where we can catch a glimpse of eternity. And before we know it, maybe unexpectedly, that veil will rip apart and we will see clearly. Will live as God had intended from the beginning. But till then we are on this side of eternity. And grieve. And weep. And have to learn to let go. Because we will never understand the 'why'.
The plane crash reminded me of this gift of today. It made clear to me that all I have is now. And in the blink of an eye, in an instant this life here can be over. What will I do with what is given me?
Receive it graciously. Savor the moment - the good and the bad, the lighthearted and challenging. Enjoy - good food, good company, good books. Notice the beauty. Create beauty. Be present and mindful in the moment. Never hold back on hugs and 'I love yous'. Be mindful of your 'last words'. Take risks and don't shrink back from the new and different. Seize opportunities as they arise, even if they might be 'too expensive'. Drink good coffee and not settle for second best. Learn not to look back with regret but know that God is the Redeemer of all. Live today, not yesterday or tomorrow. Laugh daily and strive to be joyful in all. Seek to serve others and make their day a happy one. Smile. Show compassion to others and yourself. Don't hold a grudge but be quick to forgive and seek forgiveness. Celebrate the ordinary with lots of chocolate cake. And most of all love. Love freely and deeply but with open hands. Because in an instant the veil can tear and we might move through the thin place to the other side. With my grandfather's last words to me: 'Until we meet again.'
Sunday, November 24, 2013
Wednesday, October 16, 2013
all you need is ...
A friend shared about her sister's struggle with clinical depression for over 20 years. She got married and had kids but for a long time she could not even function enough to get dinners cooked or take care of her children. Her husband was loving and faithful but not necessarily firm with his children. He let them have free reign, always insisting that they would turn out just fine. And they did.
In ending the story, my friend said: "It's just so cool to see how God really stepped in and took care of those kids when their mom just couldn't."
It reminded me of a workshop I went to at a conference when Dylan was just a baby. The workshop was on family life or raising kids overseas and the speaker said: "God loves your kids so much more than you do. Don't worry about them. Just love them and He will take care of them because He loves them even more than you do."
Whenever I worry about my children, worry about what they might be missing out on because of this journey we are on, worry that I might be messing them up, worry about not being fully present each minute of each day, worry about the many times I lose my temper and make mistakes, I am reminded of that thought: "God loves these children so much more than I do or ever could". And anyone who has kids and knows this love that runs so deep and that hits you with such force the second you know of this life growing inside of you and that helps you press on through those sleep-deprived, hazy days when you feel like you're sleepwalking and your child is just throwing another temper tantrum and you don't know if you can take it anymore...and God has so much more of that. Wow.
At times I tend to see my children as an extension of myself and I need these reminders that they are not, that they are a person of their own right, with their own personality, their own self. That they, too, are my brothers and sister in Christ.
It makes me realize that I need to have compassion with them and show them grace. And show myself grace, too. Rules are good and helpful but sometimes what my children really need is compassion and grace. When my four year old is kicking and screaming because he has all these passions and emotions inside and does not yet know how to handle them all I go into parenting overdrive and think this is a teaching moment and I have to stick to the guns. When actually, what I am realizing, he needs me to squat down and hold him and all his emotional turmoil. And then, when he has calmed down in my embrace, when I have loved him and shown him compassion, we can have that teachable moment.
So often I tend to criticize, stick to principle, judge others for what they say and do. I expect perfect behavior from imperfect children, from imperfect others and imperfect me. How good it is to look into Jesus' eyes and see that they are full of compassion, never judge, and that His arms are always wide open, exuding grace.
I appreciated a quote attributed to Billy Graham: "It is God's job to judge, the Holy Spirit's job to convict and my job to love. "
Someday, when my kids look back on our home, I hope they remember a joyful mama, full of compassion and grace. I still have time to get there....
In ending the story, my friend said: "It's just so cool to see how God really stepped in and took care of those kids when their mom just couldn't."
It reminded me of a workshop I went to at a conference when Dylan was just a baby. The workshop was on family life or raising kids overseas and the speaker said: "God loves your kids so much more than you do. Don't worry about them. Just love them and He will take care of them because He loves them even more than you do."
Whenever I worry about my children, worry about what they might be missing out on because of this journey we are on, worry that I might be messing them up, worry about not being fully present each minute of each day, worry about the many times I lose my temper and make mistakes, I am reminded of that thought: "God loves these children so much more than I do or ever could". And anyone who has kids and knows this love that runs so deep and that hits you with such force the second you know of this life growing inside of you and that helps you press on through those sleep-deprived, hazy days when you feel like you're sleepwalking and your child is just throwing another temper tantrum and you don't know if you can take it anymore...and God has so much more of that. Wow.
At times I tend to see my children as an extension of myself and I need these reminders that they are not, that they are a person of their own right, with their own personality, their own self. That they, too, are my brothers and sister in Christ.
It makes me realize that I need to have compassion with them and show them grace. And show myself grace, too. Rules are good and helpful but sometimes what my children really need is compassion and grace. When my four year old is kicking and screaming because he has all these passions and emotions inside and does not yet know how to handle them all I go into parenting overdrive and think this is a teaching moment and I have to stick to the guns. When actually, what I am realizing, he needs me to squat down and hold him and all his emotional turmoil. And then, when he has calmed down in my embrace, when I have loved him and shown him compassion, we can have that teachable moment.
So often I tend to criticize, stick to principle, judge others for what they say and do. I expect perfect behavior from imperfect children, from imperfect others and imperfect me. How good it is to look into Jesus' eyes and see that they are full of compassion, never judge, and that His arms are always wide open, exuding grace.
I appreciated a quote attributed to Billy Graham: "It is God's job to judge, the Holy Spirit's job to convict and my job to love. "
Someday, when my kids look back on our home, I hope they remember a joyful mama, full of compassion and grace. I still have time to get there....
Wednesday, August 28, 2013
search for simplicity
It's the height of rainy season. There have been steady rainfalls on most days, interwoven with sunny hours. Everything in the house and outside feels clammy. It is our wettest month of the year.
The last two days the boys (with Alana joining them most of the time) have spent almost all their waking ours digging in a mud hole. They have gone from discovering a long lost Ancient Egyptian grave to making tar to building walls to defending their castle with mud bombs. They jump into puddles, are covered in mud and are discovering the great outdoors. I love to listen in on their conversations while at play, catching a glimpse of the magical world of their imagination. I love how they interweave what we have been studying at school with all that they do in the great outdoors. How it becomes an integral part of who they are right now. I love the growth of their relationships with each other, seeing how they interact and how their personalities shine through.
I often dream of an old farmhouse, lots of space, green hills, changing seasons, living off the land, a closer connection to nature and a more simple and quiet and peaceful life, away from the noise and busyness and smells of the city.
So I am thankful for rainy days and mud holes and the freedom the kids have to be outdoors, to connect with the here and now. It may not be an old farmhouse and my garden so far has not yielded much fruit. But this is the day that the Lord has made and it is a gift to be enjoyed and received and savored. This is the here and now, my present reality. And I am grateful.
Note: This was written about two weeks ago. I wanted to add a picture of muddy faces but you'll just have to imagine those for now. :)
The last two days the boys (with Alana joining them most of the time) have spent almost all their waking ours digging in a mud hole. They have gone from discovering a long lost Ancient Egyptian grave to making tar to building walls to defending their castle with mud bombs. They jump into puddles, are covered in mud and are discovering the great outdoors. I love to listen in on their conversations while at play, catching a glimpse of the magical world of their imagination. I love how they interweave what we have been studying at school with all that they do in the great outdoors. How it becomes an integral part of who they are right now. I love the growth of their relationships with each other, seeing how they interact and how their personalities shine through.
I often dream of an old farmhouse, lots of space, green hills, changing seasons, living off the land, a closer connection to nature and a more simple and quiet and peaceful life, away from the noise and busyness and smells of the city.
So I am thankful for rainy days and mud holes and the freedom the kids have to be outdoors, to connect with the here and now. It may not be an old farmhouse and my garden so far has not yielded much fruit. But this is the day that the Lord has made and it is a gift to be enjoyed and received and savored. This is the here and now, my present reality. And I am grateful.
Note: This was written about two weeks ago. I wanted to add a picture of muddy faces but you'll just have to imagine those for now. :)
Like a thief in the night
Last week, somebody climbed up to our balcony at night, entered into our house through the screen door, walked into our bedroom and stole, among other things, my laptop and David's super new phone that he had saved up for.
This is the first time we have had things stolen from this house and the first time ever to experience a break-in. That in itself is something I am so grateful for.
I am also grateful that we all slept soundly, that none of the kids woke up and stumbled into him (or her) on their way to the bathroom. We have since heard that the incidents of armed robbery are increasing and for all I know there might have been a gun in our house that night. Things could have been a lot worse.
Still, to know that someone came into our 'holy of holies', our bedroom, one of the most private rooms in a house and walked right up next to our bed and helped himself (or herself) to our possessions has brought along a wealth of extremely varied emotions and thoughts.
Since then, almost a week has passed. I am learning to let go. Let go of the monetary loss. Let go of work that has gone lost. Let go of memories in the form of pictures and videos. It is, after all, just a thing and I won't tie my heart to a thing. The memories are stored. They are part of me. The work can be redone. The thing can be replaced eventually.
Letting go of that 'feeling' has been harder. At times I'll climb the stairs and think of this stranger's feet touching the exact same steps. I look at the screen door that stood ajar in the morning as I woke up and remember those first moments of realization. I replay all I remember of the last week in my mind and try not to blame or suspect anyone.
It is amazing how this incident can rob you of all joy and take the wind out of your sails. Just when things were starting to look up after a challenging start back to life here it's like a blow to your stomach that leaves you struggling for air.
Again I have that choice. To not be robbed again. I may have been robbed physically and materially. But I will not let myself be robbed of joy as well. I don't want to be governed by fear.
The words of Jesus come to my mind:
"Watch therefore, for you do not know on what day your Lord is coming. But know this, that if the householder had known in what part of the night the thief was coming, he would have watched and would not have let his house be broken into. Therefore you also must be ready; for the Son of man is coming at an hour you do not expect." Matthew 23:42-44
Jesus will come like a thief in the night. Our feeling of security and safety led to slackness on our part. We got less careful and a little lazy. Every day I have that choice of how I want to live my life. I want to finish strong, not become complacent. Not rob myself of joy by focusing on all that could be better. I want to be ready and watchful and mindful and go through each day with an open heart and open eyes and open hands. Live each day fully. Filled with a lot of laughter. And ice - cream.
This is the first time we have had things stolen from this house and the first time ever to experience a break-in. That in itself is something I am so grateful for.
I am also grateful that we all slept soundly, that none of the kids woke up and stumbled into him (or her) on their way to the bathroom. We have since heard that the incidents of armed robbery are increasing and for all I know there might have been a gun in our house that night. Things could have been a lot worse.
Still, to know that someone came into our 'holy of holies', our bedroom, one of the most private rooms in a house and walked right up next to our bed and helped himself (or herself) to our possessions has brought along a wealth of extremely varied emotions and thoughts.
Since then, almost a week has passed. I am learning to let go. Let go of the monetary loss. Let go of work that has gone lost. Let go of memories in the form of pictures and videos. It is, after all, just a thing and I won't tie my heart to a thing. The memories are stored. They are part of me. The work can be redone. The thing can be replaced eventually.
Letting go of that 'feeling' has been harder. At times I'll climb the stairs and think of this stranger's feet touching the exact same steps. I look at the screen door that stood ajar in the morning as I woke up and remember those first moments of realization. I replay all I remember of the last week in my mind and try not to blame or suspect anyone.
It is amazing how this incident can rob you of all joy and take the wind out of your sails. Just when things were starting to look up after a challenging start back to life here it's like a blow to your stomach that leaves you struggling for air.
Again I have that choice. To not be robbed again. I may have been robbed physically and materially. But I will not let myself be robbed of joy as well. I don't want to be governed by fear.
The words of Jesus come to my mind:
"Watch therefore, for you do not know on what day your Lord is coming. But know this, that if the householder had known in what part of the night the thief was coming, he would have watched and would not have let his house be broken into. Therefore you also must be ready; for the Son of man is coming at an hour you do not expect." Matthew 23:42-44
Jesus will come like a thief in the night. Our feeling of security and safety led to slackness on our part. We got less careful and a little lazy. Every day I have that choice of how I want to live my life. I want to finish strong, not become complacent. Not rob myself of joy by focusing on all that could be better. I want to be ready and watchful and mindful and go through each day with an open heart and open eyes and open hands. Live each day fully. Filled with a lot of laughter. And ice - cream.
Wednesday, March 20, 2013
new life
We have been listening to Seeds Family Worship CDs in our van (they kind of run non stop) and we love them. And I cannot say enough good things about Seeds Family Worship CDs! Even my almost-two-year old little girlie girl bellows along and will sing the songs in the car and while doing her 'work' around the house (aka making a mess).
One of the songs and verses that stuck out to me this past week was 2 Corinthians 5:17:
Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, the new creation has come: The old has gone, the new is here!
What amazing words. Made all the more real when I had the privilege of meeting a young woman who had just gone through a traumatic loss. Her life had been full of mistakes and a sad past but through this loss she and her husband found Christ.
A new creation. The old has gone, the new has come. A clean slate. A second chance. A white robe in place of filthy rags.
What love that made this possible, this transformation that reaches to the deepest, innermost being of a person whose life up to that point was full of horrific and terrible memories.
A new creation. Made new. The old has gone and will never come back. What happened in the past is of no consequence because the new has come!
In light of Easter, I am so thankful for these words, so thankful for this new life. So thankful for the terrible death that made it possible, that paid the price in full.
The cross, that makes all things new, wipes the slate spotlessly clean. Creates new life and beauty out of the ashes.
Thank you for the cross, my friend.
One of the songs and verses that stuck out to me this past week was 2 Corinthians 5:17:
Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, the new creation has come: The old has gone, the new is here!
What amazing words. Made all the more real when I had the privilege of meeting a young woman who had just gone through a traumatic loss. Her life had been full of mistakes and a sad past but through this loss she and her husband found Christ.
A new creation. The old has gone, the new has come. A clean slate. A second chance. A white robe in place of filthy rags.
What love that made this possible, this transformation that reaches to the deepest, innermost being of a person whose life up to that point was full of horrific and terrible memories.
A new creation. Made new. The old has gone and will never come back. What happened in the past is of no consequence because the new has come!
In light of Easter, I am so thankful for these words, so thankful for this new life. So thankful for the terrible death that made it possible, that paid the price in full.
The cross, that makes all things new, wipes the slate spotlessly clean. Creates new life and beauty out of the ashes.
Thank you for the cross, my friend.
Sunday, February 3, 2013
honest
I've been quiet on here for a while. I've been in a slump and it's hard to know how honest to be here. Does anyone acutally read this? I don't know. But writing is somewhat therapeutic for me so here's to all my non - readers. Maybe some day a lonely wanderer in this cyber jungle will stumble upon this space and find comfort.
I've been in a slump and have not greeted this year with my usual giddy excitement over blank calendar pages. I feel like such a failure in every aspect of my life. -As a homeschooler - because every day is a struggle and my kids do not come running joyously when I say those magic words: 'time for school.' - As a mom - I have been so shorttempered and find myself yelling at the kids over little things that just make me snap. Maybe, just maybe, because there have been a few not so little things that have gotten me to that point. And it just never ends, this parenting gig. It goes on 24/7 and I am exhausted. At times I wish there was a little button I coudl press and that would instantly transform them into the perfect children you envision when they are still in your womb. As a wife - because I have been so tired and emotionally drained that I just want my space and long for 'me-time'. As a kingdom worker - because all I do is wipe bottoms and snotty noses and wrangle the kids and I don't make a difference in anyone's life. As a team member - because, again, I make no difference and it doesn't matter if I'm there or not. As a friend and daughter and supported person - because I have such a hard time to stay in touch and develop meaningful relationships.
I still feel this sense of failure deeply. Every time I lose it and yell at my kids again, or snap at David or whine to myself about not making a difference - I've failed.
And it's made me question my calling. Everyone's talking about calling these days - follow your dreams, discover the Element (great book, by the way) and pursue your passion, be sure of your calling. Is it my calling to wipe poopy bottoms and snotty noses and try to get some education into whiny kids? It's definitely not what I had in my mind when I sensed God calling us to come here.
I've come to the conclusion that CALLING is not that super mysterious and deep conviction of our high something something that magically transforms my lowly everyday into a life of greatness. My calling is to love God and love people and to be thankful. If I do that on a daily basis everything else will/should flow out of that.
Being sure of my calling - what does that even mean? It's putting far too much importance on little tiny me, putting far too much thought on me, myself and I, what I want, what I should be accomplishing, what I can expect of myself. And ultimately, it's what drains us of life and energy. Because we're afraid that we are not doing what we are called to be doing, that we maybe missed something, made a wrong choice, took a wrong turn and should be somewhere totally different, doing something totally different. That the reason we are not accomplishing great things and have amazing stories to tell is because we are not living our calling.
But who am I but a little tiny person in God's great universe. And yet, I am not just that little tiny person but the apple of His eye. What a paradox, what love. And so I was made to praise Him and love Him back. To know Him and make Him known by loving Him. That is my calling.
And I love Him by loving these four beautiful children that stretch me like nothing else has ever stretched me. I love Him by loving my amazing husband. I love Him by being thankful for each gift He gives, by being thankful for all and in all things.
And it is hard to be thankful while taking care of four sick kids while David gets to travel and see things and experience life and meet amazing people. It's hard to be thankful when my day is spent parenting a 3year old who screams and whines and throws things while clinging to my leg. And David gets to have important strategy meetings. It's hard to be thankful when he has stories to tell and meetings to go to and business plans to write and my world revolves around laundry and dishes and food to make and children to love.
But thankfulness always precedes the miracle as Ann Voskamp writes in her beautifully and eloquently written book. And I am always loved and God is always good.
So I gaze at my 3year old now sleeping peacefully next to me and I am thankful for his passion and healthy lungs, for his ability to articulate (however loudly and strongly) what he wants and likes and feels. I am not a failure but a broken human being. Just a mom, a tired mom but blessed. I am right where God has put me. This is the life He intended for me and so I can choose joy and I can choose to be thankful. And the miracles have come.
I've been in a slump and have not greeted this year with my usual giddy excitement over blank calendar pages. I feel like such a failure in every aspect of my life. -As a homeschooler - because every day is a struggle and my kids do not come running joyously when I say those magic words: 'time for school.' - As a mom - I have been so shorttempered and find myself yelling at the kids over little things that just make me snap. Maybe, just maybe, because there have been a few not so little things that have gotten me to that point. And it just never ends, this parenting gig. It goes on 24/7 and I am exhausted. At times I wish there was a little button I coudl press and that would instantly transform them into the perfect children you envision when they are still in your womb. As a wife - because I have been so tired and emotionally drained that I just want my space and long for 'me-time'. As a kingdom worker - because all I do is wipe bottoms and snotty noses and wrangle the kids and I don't make a difference in anyone's life. As a team member - because, again, I make no difference and it doesn't matter if I'm there or not. As a friend and daughter and supported person - because I have such a hard time to stay in touch and develop meaningful relationships.
I still feel this sense of failure deeply. Every time I lose it and yell at my kids again, or snap at David or whine to myself about not making a difference - I've failed.
And it's made me question my calling. Everyone's talking about calling these days - follow your dreams, discover the Element (great book, by the way) and pursue your passion, be sure of your calling. Is it my calling to wipe poopy bottoms and snotty noses and try to get some education into whiny kids? It's definitely not what I had in my mind when I sensed God calling us to come here.
I've come to the conclusion that CALLING is not that super mysterious and deep conviction of our high something something that magically transforms my lowly everyday into a life of greatness. My calling is to love God and love people and to be thankful. If I do that on a daily basis everything else will/should flow out of that.
Being sure of my calling - what does that even mean? It's putting far too much importance on little tiny me, putting far too much thought on me, myself and I, what I want, what I should be accomplishing, what I can expect of myself. And ultimately, it's what drains us of life and energy. Because we're afraid that we are not doing what we are called to be doing, that we maybe missed something, made a wrong choice, took a wrong turn and should be somewhere totally different, doing something totally different. That the reason we are not accomplishing great things and have amazing stories to tell is because we are not living our calling.
But who am I but a little tiny person in God's great universe. And yet, I am not just that little tiny person but the apple of His eye. What a paradox, what love. And so I was made to praise Him and love Him back. To know Him and make Him known by loving Him. That is my calling.
And I love Him by loving these four beautiful children that stretch me like nothing else has ever stretched me. I love Him by loving my amazing husband. I love Him by being thankful for each gift He gives, by being thankful for all and in all things.
And it is hard to be thankful while taking care of four sick kids while David gets to travel and see things and experience life and meet amazing people. It's hard to be thankful when my day is spent parenting a 3year old who screams and whines and throws things while clinging to my leg. And David gets to have important strategy meetings. It's hard to be thankful when he has stories to tell and meetings to go to and business plans to write and my world revolves around laundry and dishes and food to make and children to love.
But thankfulness always precedes the miracle as Ann Voskamp writes in her beautifully and eloquently written book. And I am always loved and God is always good.
So I gaze at my 3year old now sleeping peacefully next to me and I am thankful for his passion and healthy lungs, for his ability to articulate (however loudly and strongly) what he wants and likes and feels. I am not a failure but a broken human being. Just a mom, a tired mom but blessed. I am right where God has put me. This is the life He intended for me and so I can choose joy and I can choose to be thankful. And the miracles have come.
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