Mocking Bird

Posted in Eucharisteo, laughter, my boy, my girl, parenting (aint for sissies) by

I think one of the ways God keeps us parents humble is by creating our children to mimic everything we do.

Just when you feel like super-mom because you mastered the never-ending to-do list all while keeping the family happy… who am I kidding? That never happens. Let me try that again…

Just when you feel proud for being a parenting rockstar, because your children never fight, for making it an entire day without screwing up in the parenting department… UGH.

Just when you feel good because you finally had ONE positive parenting moment, you overhear one of your kids on their “phone” say in a remarkably familiar tone, “You have got to be kidding me. What an idiot!” Or the other child drops a toy and says in frustration with a furrowed brow, “dogGONit!”

Yep, there is no way one can get a big head with the little mini-mes running around highlighting every one of your flubs, parenting or otherwise. And it isn’t just the things you say. Their mannerisms, body language, and how they react to things can often mirror each other and mom and dad. (Although I have no idea where Annalise picked up that eye roll with a sigh thing. Seriously. Just don’t ask her dad about it.)

What I’ve begun to realize is that as they get older, the mimicking changes a bit.

A 2-year old often mimics immediately and verbatim – or as close to verbatim as was understood. I say, “Jacob, come here and give mommy a kiss.” He says, “Give mommy kiss?” I say, “Why is your shirt all dirty?” He says, “Because my shirt all doody.” I get frustrated and let out a loud “uuugggghhh!” Jacob does the same, and then looks at me with a big dimpled grin, apparently proud of his ability to remind me that he is always listening and capable of repeating anything. Anything.

The 2-year old also mimics seemingly mindlessly. At least the chatty 2-year-old does. What I mean is, while his mouth is constantly moving, he can hear something from a distance and add it to the continual chatter.

Example: While in the grocery store, Jacob was telling me a story about Maggie, the dog at Bev’s house. Despite his sister constantly interrupting him to tell me we should buy this or that, or that we really neeeeeed fruit snacks and chocolate covered granola bars, and even though I wasn’t fully focused (I did slip in a number of “Uh-huhs,” and “Oh, wow!”s so he knew I was “listening”), the boy just. didn’t. stop. talking. You’d think that while one was so busy ignoring his sister and telling every detail of his interactions with a puppy, one would not be aware of other sounds, such as the background music and intermittent advertisements being played in the store. But you would be wrong. Because as he told his never-ending story, he’d take a break to comment on whatever it was the nice lady on the loud speaker was advertising. “And den (then) Maggie wunned (ran) over and… she said choc-o-wat, Mama. Choco-wat nummy. Wight, mama? Wight? It nummy. We should get some of dat too… and Maggie wunned over and fall down wif a big cwash! She cwashed and it was so funny! And… she said da qwackers on sale. Did you hear, mama? Da qwackers nummy, too. Day on sale!….And den Maggie got up and…”

How does he do that? I can barely hear him and Annalise and pay attention to my grocery list without running the cart into things. He can tell a story, block out Annalise-noise, hear and repeat commercials, and continue his story where he left off, all the while pointing out things he’d like to buy as we pass them. He is the only male I know that can successfully multi-task.

The 2-year old has an unusually keen sense of hearing. He can pick up on whispered phrases, but he is most talented at catching things said in another part of the house. While he and his sister argue over a toy for the thousandth time, one parent (not mentioning any names) overhears in another room and says in frustration, “My gosh guys, c’mon!” Immediately we hear Jacob shout, “My gosh, guys, c’mon!” Followed by Leesie shouting, “JACOB! DON’T. SAY. GOSH! MOMMEEEEE! JACOB SAID GOSH!”  Great.

Jacob is so good at repeating everything – at any time and from any part of the house – that I called him my little mocking bird. His reply, “I am not your walking-bird! I Jacobpweestman!” He then walked out of the room chattering, “walking-bird, walking-bird, walking bird…” Exactly. And how I love you, my little mocking bird.

4-year-old mocking birds mimic differently, for they are a bit wiser. These older and wiser mocking birds choose phrases they like and try them out at a later – and sometimes very random – time. This is their way of testing a phrase to see if it they want to add it to their repertoire.

Example: In a fit of anger for being put in time out, my sweet girl hollered from the corner of the hall. “Well… You… YOU… You’re just JEALOUS!” (Like I said, phrases are tested out at often very random times.)

So where’d that come from? I don’t recall ever using that phrase in front of her – or come to think of it – at all. It isn’t a word I use much, and certainly not in that tone. But she heard it somewhere and decided to try it out. Multiple times a day. For several weeks. And not once was it used correctly.

“Annalise, can you please pick up your toys?”

“No! You’re just JEALOUS!”

 

“Leesie, don’t talk to your brother like that!”

“You’re just JEALOUS, mom!” No. Actually I’m not. I’m really really not.

 

Or to Jacob, “Go away! You’re just JEALOUS!”

Good grief.

I explained to her that: 1) She clearly didn’t know what the word jealous means and was using the phrase incorrectly, 2) She was obviously trying to be mean, and that wasn’t okay, and 3) If she continued to use it, there would be consequences. Not because the actual phrase was mean, but because her intentions were.  (After explaining that one, she tried out the word “intentions” for a few days on me… until she couldn’t remember what word it was anymore.)

“You’re just jealous!” was also then adopted by brother-mocking-bird, who used it on me a few times as well. It’s very difficult to keep a straight face when a super-cute-toddler-trying-(unsuccessfully)-to-have-a-very-stern–face says to you, “You so jealous, mom!”

Jealous? Of wearing diapers? Of having to depend on others to feed and clothe me? Of playing all day? Of daily naps? Of having no responsibility whatsoever? Yeah, actually. Maybe I am. Except for the diapers part.

In any case, I’m glad that phrase finally ran its course and was not permanently added to the 4-year-old’s repertoire.

It can be very obvious when a 4-year-old mocking bird is trying out a new phrase, even when it is used correctly. They will often say it more than once, and they may look at you to study your reaction to their latest verbiage.

Example: We were on a walk, when we noticed a lady walking her boxer up ahead. Annalise’s Uncle Tom also has a boxer named Elby. While boxers can look very similar, this one was pretty different from Elby and clearly not him. Nevertheless, Annalise decided it was a good opportunity to test a new phrase. In a bit of a chatty middle-school-girlish voice, she said, “Woah! I saw that dog and thought it looked like Elby. But then I was like, what the heck? How could that be Elby out here? And Uncle Tom isn’t even around! So, what the heck???” Quick glance at mom to read my reaction.

I was like??? What the heck???? Is she a 14-year-old from the early 90’s or something? And where did she hear that phrase in the first place? What the h…. Ohhhh… Never mind. Turns out I am the 14-year-old from the early 90’s. And she is just my mocking bird. But I would never tell her that. Because she is wise, and sensitive, and she is ever-trying to be her own person. Only while doing so, she ends up a lot like me. How I love you so, my beautiful and wise 4-year-old mocking bird.

The best (or worst, depends on how you look at it) of the mocking bird mimicking comes, not in words and phrases, but in actions. In moments where you see your little birds doing exactly what you would do. It is the best, because you know how much they really are like you, and somehow, that is comforting. But it is also the worst, because you know how much they really are like you, and that is also very very frightening.

Example: Jacob loves his little cars. He has oh-so-many of them. More than a 2-year old needs, for sure. He sleeps with them, carries them around the house, and takes them everywhere we go in the car. This morning, we heard him talking loudly in the other room. We weren’t sure exactly what he was playing, but his voice was boisterous, as though he were announcing something. This went on for a few minutes before Matt came to me and said, “Come here. Come see what your son is doing.”

My son? Why my son? Is he being naughty, so you don’t claim him? This is what I found:

Not naughty. Just organized and categorizing. Disney cars on the right, other cars on the left/back, larger cars on the ground. And all lined up neatly. (His loud talking was introducing each vehicle “on stage.”)

Yes. My son. How proud I felt. My boy. Linear thinker. So neat. So organized. Just like his mama, who keeps all the pencils in the container with the erasers at one end, turns all the mugs in the cupboard so the handles face the same way, stacks things in cute organized bins including one labeled “Labels,” and always – always – straightens poker chips when playing Texas Hold ‘Em so the white marks on the rim of the chips make a straight white line all the way down. (Clearly, I just play for fun with friends. I’m not sure that kind of behavior would be allowed in casinos. I don’t care which stack is bigger… just give me the straight chips.)

Unnerving chaos:                     Better, but still needing adjustments:

                                                                  

My mocking bird. Organizing his cars. I must get a picture. I grabbed my phone, doing my best to overlook the small gap between two of the cars and stopping myself from straightening the one that was slightly crooked at the end. He will learn. Noticing those details will come with time.

And then, just as I’m about to snap the shot, my 4-year-old mocking bird jumps up. “Wait! Let me just straighten this car and push these together,” she says while scooting the row of cars over, ignoring the protests from her brother.

Ah, yes. And there are drawbacks to my OCD behavior. I recall that now. Over-organizing. Wanting things my way. Not being happy with good enough. That’s right… just when I start feeling proud, my mocking birds remind me of my faults and keep me humble.

But oh, how I love those birds, my gifts. I must do better, for them. They motivate me.

And so my prayer:

LORD, just for today, give me the strength to be patient and loving at all times. To keep my cool, but to be warm to the little ones around me. When I am proud, remind me that “everything good in me is You, everything else is just me.” Help me to model less of me and more of You. And for my little birds, help me to speak JOY, GRACE, and uplifting words of STRENGTH, so they will do the same. ~ Amen

Grace Lavished

Posted in angel babies, Eucharisteo, grace, grief and loss, joy found, twins by

I am humbled.

I began to write out my journey of faith just for myself, and I wrestled with the idea of making it public on my blog. (If you haven’t read it yet, this post won’t make sense. Read Tarnished first.) On the one hand, it felt good to write it all out and recognize how far I’ve come from my intense hatred toward God just 5+ years ago. It encouraged me to see how He’s been working in me, all the puzzle pieces lined up and fitting together, rather than each piece floating around in my mind disconnected from the rest. I was writing it for me. But then I thought that maybe it would be good for others to see, too – to encourage those that have prayed so faithfully for us and those that God has used to speak to us, to grow and stretch us during the past year.

On the other hand, posting this journey meant admitting to the world that I don’t have it all together. (I know. Shocking.) It meant confessing to people I know, love, and respect that my faith couldn’t withstand heartache. (Hmmm… a bit of pride creeping in here? I think so.) It’s humbling – and to some extent humiliating – to know other people have grown in their faith in the midst of a tragedy, while I completely crumbled. Waves crashed, and I jumped ship. Shouldn’t I have been stronger? Why did it take me over 5 years to get to the point where I can trust God and accept that His ways are not my ways (Isaiah 55:8), and that is a good thing? After all, He sees the big picture. And not just my big picture. He sees everyone’s big picture, how they are interlinked, and for all of time. Why was I so stubborn in accepting that He knows best? I don’t want everyone to know about this major fault of mine!

Ah, yes. Pride. Guilt. Slowly creeping in like the ocean’s tide. I could soon be swamped.

I decided to write out my journey and think on it for a while before posting. I read it probably a dozen times (and missed all those typos/errors each and every time. Oops.) I didn’t want to post it if it was only for my benefit, but I would make it public if it could encourage someone else. I decided to post it. I prayed it would reach someone. I prayed that God would be glorified. I prayed that I could redeem some of the lost time I spent hating God, and that maybe, maybe some good would come of it.

The day after posting, I regretted it. First, the waves of pride came again, washing over me as I saw the number of people reading it increase. Then came the even more intense guilt. I failed. I threw my faith out the window. I completely jumped ship. I tried reminding myself that this isn’t about me. It’s about bringing glory to the One who made me and loves me as I am, despite my faults.

I had the opportunity to have a conversation with my pastor about it. I’m pretty sure I’ve said it once or twice before, but he’s pretty awesome. Seriously. (Oh yes, I did already say that. Here, here, and multiple times on various dates here.) But it’s worth saying again. How blessed we are to be a part of a church where we get to hear him preach nearly every week. He is so real. So transparent. And he speaks Truth. And since writing the last blog post, I have heard from more and more people who also feel – every week – like the preaching is just for them. Clearly, Pastor Phil is being used by God. I am constantly learning from him.

During our conversation, I told him about my guilt for hating God. I told him how bad I felt for jumping ship the second strong waves crashed. Pastor Phil cupped his hands like a bowl. “In your eyes, you jumped ship. But in His, you were always right here.”

What an amazing picture. No matter how much I give up on Him, no matter how far I try to run from His presence, I can’t ever escape the palm of His hands. Even when I jump ship, I still land right there, right where He is holding me.

You’d think that would be good enough for me to get past the whole guilt/pride thing. Um, no. (I may have also mentioned once or twice that I am a bit stubborn.) So while I was greatly encouraged by my conversation with my pastor, the very next day I allowed myself to feel guilty once again. I had lunch with a friend who experienced the loss of a baby similar to our situation. She rejoices at the gift God gave her. She is thankful for a treasure she has in Heaven. She didn’t hate like I did. More guilt as I wish I would have had her faith. Ugh.

Do you ever have one of those nights where you can’t keep your eyes open when you’re in the living room, but the second you hit the bed, you’re wide awake? Do you ever have an argument with yourself or with God? As I lay on my pillow that night, frustrated about not falling asleep, a thought crept into my mind…

Read Jesus Calling.

No. I left it in the living room. I’m not getting up.

Read Jesus Calling.

No. I’m cozy. I’m going to sleep now!

Get up. Read Jesus Calling.

No! Thank you. I think I’ll lay here in my misery and guilt until I fall asleep. I just missed one day. I’ll read two tomorrow.

You missed two days. Go read yesterday’s today.

Maybe I’m not making myself clear here. I’m. Not. Getting. Up. I will read two – no, THREE – devotionals tomorrow. Promise.

Get up. Read Jesus Calling. Read yesterday’s entry. Read it now, before you sleep.

It was at this point I realized I was even more awake than when the argument in my head started. I reluctantly – and with irritation – jolted up and into the living room, hoping to quiet my thoughts and allow myself to go back to sleep. My movement was sudden and startled Matt, so he followed me out to see what was going on. Embarrassed for sounding a bit crazy, I thumbed through the book while explaining to him that I just needed to read the devotional from yesterday so I could shut up my mind and get to sleep in peace, that really I didn’t think it was going to be helpful, but at least I wouldn’t be having stupid arguments in my head.

Here is where the story gets funny. I turned to the day’s devotion that I had skipped. The one I was apparently going to have to read if I wanted a chance at going to sleep. As I began to read, I couldn’t help but laugh. I read it aloud to Matt. We were both laughing.

From Jesus Calling by Sarah Young:

May 9

Don’t be so hard on yourself. I can bring good even out of your mistakes. Your finite mind tends to look backward, longing to undo decisions you have come to regret. This is a waste of time and energy, leading only to frustration. Instead of floundering in the past, release your mistakes to Me. Look to Me in trust, anticipating that My infinite creativity can weave both good choices and bad into a lovely design.

Because you are human, you will continue to make mistakes. Thinking that you should live an error-free life is symptomatic of pride. Your failures can be a source of blessing, humbling you and giving you empathy for other people in their weaknesses. Best of all, failure highlights your dependence on Me. I am able to bring beauty out of the morass of your mistakes. Trust Me, and watch to see what I will do.

Romans 8:28; Micah 7:7

If you have that book and read the devotional for May 9 and didn’t get much out of it, sorry. That one was written just for me.

So what now? What comes of the girl who hated God, now loves Him, and is on a majorly steep learning curve to reflect His image? (We’re talking straight up-and-down cliffs, here.)

This is the part where I work on choosing and remembering. Waking up each morning and choosing to remember that I am human, and I will continue to make mistakes. Yet, He still LOVES ME. He made me, and He does all things well.

Remembering that He is God, and He knows best. For me, for you, and for all of eternity. Oh boy, that one’s a toughy. I have to choose that often. (Yes, I know, stubborn me. Sheesh.) But I do. I have to decide each and every day – sometimes multiple times a day – that GOD is GOD, and I am not.

Remembering that no matter how far I run, jump, or hide, I can never escape the palm of His hands.

Remembering that He – God – the Creator of the Universe has lavished His Amazing Grace upon me. (Ephesians 1:7-8)

Grace lavished. Upon me. Stubborn. Prideful. Tantrum-ing, hateful me.

I am humbled. I am in awe. I am so incredibly grateful.

When I started this blog, I was purposeful in my intent: to focus on joy and the Giver of all good and perfect gifts. I was excited as I started the process. It felt good.

In her book One Thousand Gifts, (which I am super-slow at reading. Sorry, Rach. Still haven’t finished chapter 4), Ann Voskamp embraces joy in gratitude for the many Gifts from God. At the women’s retreat I attended, Sandi challenged us to do the same, to write down 1,000 gifts. 1,000 “pops of joy” from our Creator, God. Our Heavenly Father. More excitement from me for a challenge that aligned with what God was doing in my heart already.

Even having started this process on my own, I am a slow learner.  Even having multiple reminders in various ways, I stumble as many times as I attempt.

But I am lavished in His grace. Each day. Each moment. Each time I stumble. Each time I get back up. Grace lavished.

Like Ann Voskamp, Sandi, and many other women, I am looking for it in 1,000 ways. How He shows His love for me. Each gift an example of His unending love, His amazing grace. With no disrespect to a friend who coined the term “pop of joy,” I’m recording my gifts of grace. It helps me remember. Since I don’t seem to be so good at that…

Here are a few of my Gifts of Grace from this week:

  • Two hands, cupped together, reminding me I can not escape His love.
  • Encouraging messages from people I don’t know who read my journey. May God be glorified – answered prayer.
  • Jesus Calling May 9 entry. It was written for me, for this moment.
  • A text from a friend that simply said, “You are worth it.”

I think that last one was another reminder of God’s love for me. When the guilt creeps in, when I feel overwhelmed and discouraged and ashamed and in awe that He – GOD – could forgive and love me, He quietly whispers, “You are worth it.”

And I am lavished in His Grace.

Ephesians 1:7-8 ~ “In him we have redemption through his blood, the forgiveness of sins, in accordance with the riches of God’s grace that he lavished on us with all wisdom and understanding.”

Romans 8:28 ~ “And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose.”

Micah 7:7 (ESV) ~ “But as for me, I will look to the Lord; I will wait for the God of my salvation; my God will hear me.”

Tarnished

Posted in angel babies, Eucharisteo, grace, grief and loss, twins by

Recently, I’ve read a number of blogs from various people sharing their tragic real-life stories. A couple who lost their baby late in pregnancy. A young mommy-friend who is battling cancer after already having buried 2 of her babies. A mommy and daddy who said good-bye to their baby girl as she went to be with Jesus. And another mommy, her son buried, at the hands of a drunk driver. There are others, too. Stories from friends or from people I knew once upon a time. Blog after tear-jerking blog.

As I’ve read each of these heart-wrenching tales, I’ve been struck by the calm. The peace. The joy amidst heartache. All of the bloggers referred to the grace of God sustaining them. All of them are choosing not to ask God “why?” but to thank Him for His unending love, praise Him for His sovereignty.

And I am completely amazed.

Because I, too, have been on a journey with heartache and tragedy. Had I been a blogger just six years ago, readers would have experienced our highest peaks in life as we learned – despite having been told we would not be able to conceive naturally – that my 22-year prayer for twins was answered with no medical help whatsoever, immediately followed by our lowest valleys as we said good-bye to our baby girls in this world. I could have written out the details of our story, only my blog would have been different than those I have read of late. Mine would have been full of whys, full of anger.

Let me just say that I know the loss Matt and I have experienced is not even close to what some people in this world face. I don’t think, by any means, we’ve had the worst tragedy, the biggest heartache, or that we deserve some medal for our suffering. It isn’t like that at all. We have much to be grateful for. I also don’t think that the suffering of one can be minimized when compared to the suffering of another. For example, I don’t like when people say, “I’ve had a couple miscarriages, but that is nothing compared to what you’ve been through,” insinuating that just because our loss was further along, their loss was no big deal. We all have trials. Suffering is suffering. Loss is loss. Heartache is heartache.

And to be clear, I am not bringing up this heartache to gain sympathy. I don’t need it or want it. What I do need is to fix some wrongs. To redeem some of what was lost. To hopefully bring some glory to God and His unfailing love.

It’s just that if I were a blogger 6 years ago, you would not have read my thanks to God for His unending love. While I likely would not have been brave enough to write it for all to see, the words in my head and sometimes on my tongue would have (and did) curse God and “his plan.”

Or, if I wrote at that time, I may have written off God completely. Who needs you, if you even exist at all. Had you read my thoughts at that time, my view of God would have mirrored our roller-coaster circumstances.

…I guess it’s a good thing I wasn’t a blogger 6 years ago…

Apparently, I did not have a strong anchor to withstand the crashing waves we faced. Oh, I thought I did. I thought I trusted God fully, even while knowing that didn’t mean I was protected from heartache. I grew up the daughter of a funeral director. I saw heartache. Lots of it. I knew trusting God meant trusting through the good and the bad. I knew it meant believing God is a loving God, even when prayers aren’t answered the way we’d like. Knowing the anchor exists isn’t the same as grabbing hold, trusting it in the midst of the storm.

But let me back up a bit…

Immediately following the loss of our girls, I decided God did not exist. I mean, how could he? How could a god exist and allow such heartache?

Only I couldn’t swallow that thought. I knew God existed. Without going into the details here because it would take too long to explain each occurrence, I knew God existed because I had experienced Him in my life. It was not a question of if He existed, but why He would allow such pain.

And there were many whys. Why us? Why this miracle? Why give miracles only to take them away? Why answer a 22-year prayer only to destroy it? Why give hope only to crush it? And yet again? And then again? You are our Father, why torture your children this way? Why ignore the prayers of thousands of believers from around the world and let these babies die? Why not save them and bring glory to Yourself through this string of miracles?

The big “why” that I couldn’t swallow was: Why twins???? Having prayed for them since I was 5, and I mean really prayed for them – it felt like a personal attack. Me against God. He was out to get me where it hurts, and he succeeded. And I hated him for it. H-A-T-E. I had all sorts of things to say to this God, cruel ruler of the universe.

But God is not to blame, many people reminded me. Oh yeah? Well, God could have done something, yet he didn’t. In my mind, that made him guilty of murder. Murder of my two babies. The analogy I shared with my family and close friends was that of a lifeguard watching two girls drown. If this lifeguard – the only one capable of jumping in and pulling them to safety – just stood by and watched them die, he would be to blame for their death. Guilty of murder. God was the lifeguard that stood by and did nothing. And I was done with him.

For two years I felt this way. For two years the “why?”s and the anger towards this God that was supposed to be good stirred up hatred inside of me. By now, we had a little girl to raise. An amazing little creature, who trusted us for her well-being. Who was entrusted to us, and I knew I would be responsible for teaching her right from wrong and things of eternal value. I didn’t want to screw it up, only I didn’t know what to say. I wasn’t sure what to tell her about a God that I wanted her to love, but that I hated. I didn’t know how to explain the suffering I felt while teaching her that God is sovereign and good.

I asked Matt if he would see a counselor with me. We visited with a pastor from our church at the time, and I told him my feelings towards God and my view of him as the life-guard that stood by. He asked me about God’s promises… did He ever promise to protect us, to keep us from pain and suffering? No, I said, “So that means, we just live in a cruel world. Satan is real. Evil and pain exist. God didn’t promise to protect us from it, but he can use it for his glory. It’s not his fault, it’s Satan’s fault. It’s Adam and Eve’s fault.” The pastor agreed. God is good. Satan is bad. Sometimes life sucks.

For another two years, that became my new answer. Why is there suffering? How do I reconcile this pain and heartache with a loving creator? God is sovereign. But we live in a cruel world with sin, suffering, and heartache. So life sucks sometimes. But God can use this heartache for His glory.

And then we began to attend Sunrise Baptist Church, where for the first time in my adult life, I feel like I was really truly stretched in my faith. I was confronted with verse after verse that contradicted my current view of God. The problem was, my mantra “God is sovereign, but we live in a cruel world so life sucks, but God can use it for His glory” contradicted itself (not to mention the Bible.) Because if God is sovereign, as in in-control and all-powerful, then isn’t he all-powerful-all-the-time? Meaning, God is sovereign, all-powerful, and in-control even when a mommy lies on her back for weeks, begging and pleading with him to save her babies; He is in-control even when those babies are born, suffer, and die in the hands of their broken mommy and daddy; He is in-control even when that mommy watches her husband carry a pink gingham casket containing their precious girls and even when that casket is buried along with her 22-year dream for twins. So if he is all-powerful and in-control all the time, then he isn’t just using the crappy stuff that comes about because of this cruel world –  for his glory, but He is in the crappy stuff. He is there, in it, allowing it all to happen in his all-powerfulness. God can’t be sovereign if crappy stuff just randomly happens in a crappy world. That would be Him not in control. But if He truly is sovereign, then He is in control. All the time.

And here we come to the problem. That puts God right back in the life-guard seat. Watching my babies drown.

Not only that, but my viewpoint – the “Satan exists, so we live in a cruel world so life sucks” viewpoint – gives Satan way too much power. He is not the one in control. God is. So while Satan really truly exists and really truly is out for evil and to destroy, while life may be very painful at times, I don’t really like the idea of giving Satan the satisfaction of winning here. He exists only in a world that is ultimately controlled by God. 

So wait, God is in the suffering? As in, he allows it, in his great plan? Well, if you read the book of Job (which everyone will tell you to do when you experience loss. Seriously. Everyone.) You will see that Job experienced tremendous suffering. In fact, in just a few minutes time, he learned he lost all he owned – 7,000 sheep, 3,000 camels, 500 oxen, 500 donkeys, many servants, and all of his ten children. (Job 1:14-19). Satan was the cause of all this, but he only was able to destroy all of Job’s belongings and family because God allowed it (Job 1:12), God was the one in control. In fact, Satan could not harm Job’s person until God allowed it (Job 1:12 and 2:6). And what did Job do when he learned of his great loss? “He fell on the ground and worshiped God, saying “Naked I came from my mother’s womb, and naked shall I return. The Lord gave, and the Lord has taken away; blessed be the name of the Lord.” (Job 1:20-21)

I’ve read this account of Job’s life a lot in the last 5+ years. Lots. The thoughts that usually came to mind when I read it in the first few years were, “Whatever, Job. All perfect and holy. I hate you, too.” No, I’m not kidding. That’s really what I thought. Then in the following years, “Job, you seriously can’t be human. That kind of response just doesn’t happen when people experience that great of loss.” Except it does. Because as I said in the beginning, I’ve read peoples’ accounts, their testimonies, their worship and thanksgiving in the midst of their greatest suffering.

I vividly remember the first Sunday we were finally able to talk ourselves into attending church after burying our babies. It was months later. I didn’t want to be there. I still hated God. I went. I stood during worship. But I didn’t sing. One of the worship songs that morning was the Matt Redman song, “Blessed Be the Name of the Lord.” You know the one. We had sung it a thousand times before.

Blessed be Your name
On the road marked with suffering
Though there’s pain in the offering
Blessed be Your name

Every blessing You pour out
I’ll turn back to praise
When the darkness closes in, Lord
Still I will say

Blessed be the name of the Lord
Blessed be Your name
Blessed be the name of the Lord
Blessed be Your glorious name

You give and take away
You give and take away
My heart will choose to say
Lord, blessed be Your name

I left church even angrier at God. YOU give and YOU take away. Again. His fault. He did it. Even Job says so.

Except Job didn’t say so. Job said, “The Lord gives and the Lord takes away.” But he didn’t say, “It’s God’s fault.”  “In all this Job did not sin or charge God with wrong.” (Job 1:22)  So Job knew the Lord was in his suffering, allowing it, but he didn’t blame God or charge him with wrong. Even as Job continued to suffer physically as described in chapter 2, he knew it was allowed by God. God didn’t create the suffering, but He allowed it to happen. He had his own purposes in mind for doing so. Ultimately, HE was in control, and Job worshiped Him.

Fast forward to about 10 months ago…

It was around this time that I had been confronted with so many verses and Biblical truths that I could no longer deny that: 1) God exists. 2) He is in control. 3) He is good. And 4) All these are possible at once. Even though I suffer and you suffer and people have tremendous heartache.

It was a series of puzzle pieces that were getting put together before my eyes. A quick summary of a few of them, which won’t even scratch the surface of how all the pieces fit together:

  • Every sermon Pastor Phil preached seemed directed at me. Every. Single. One. I can’t possibly summarize them here. But they were all for me. (God the Holy Spirit is working inside me. Apparently He’s not done with me yet.) Thanks, Pastor Phil, for being a vessel to be used so mightily by God.
  • I had a conversation with our pastor’s wife who has experienced great loss and suffering as well. She made a comment that sticks with me. Something along the lines of, “I can’t help but be happy for people who suffer, because it’s only then that they can truly experience the Joy of the Lord.” Thank you, Lisa, for always sticking the right words in my mind to fester in my heart.
  • The women’s Bible study I attend spent time focusing on how experiences God gives us are used to shape us and our relationship with Him.  (i.e. No longer can I be content with “Life just sucks sometimes, but at least God can use it for His glory.” God is in the hard, using it to shape us, and allowing it for His glory. Remember Job?) See also Romans 8:28
  • I was put in a Bible study group with the perfect women to encourage me. They all did in one way or another, but wow… Amy and Judy, the encouragers. Every question I had, frustration I felt, fear that welled up, you combated it with the exact Truth I needed to hear. I am so grateful.
  • I decided to focus on Joy and began a blog to help me to remember to do just that. (Thanks, Matt, Amy, and others for encouraging me to do so.) I decided to believe what the Bible says and shows over and over. That God is good. All the time. And that He is the giver of all good gifts. There are countless verses to reference here, but just to name a few: Psalm 136:1, Psalm 100:5, Psalm 119:68, James 1:17
  • I began reading (again) a devotional my parents got me over a year ago. It sat unused for quite some time, but suddenly I felt compelled to read Jesus Calling. All about remaining in His presence. All about being reminded of His sovereignty and goodness. Ok. Got it. YOU are in control. All the time. And YOU are good. All the time. And just in case I forget, I have a daily devotional leading me right to the perfect verses that I needed to hear that day. Every day.
    Thanks, Mom and Dad, for praying faithfully and encouraging lovingly.
  • I attended a women’s conference where the focus is on Joy. I already mentioned in this post how awesome the conference was and how I left feeling full. Everything I heard there fit in perfectly with everything God had been working on in my heart already. The topic, the challenges, and one of the recommended books? Jesus Calling. Check. Already reading that one. Thank you, Sandi, for your encouraging messages.
  • We finished our Bible study on Experiencing God and began studying Philippians, a.k.a. The Joy book. Of course we did. Because apparently Holly needed to be beat over the head with the same topic until she finally figured out how to experience joy amidst suffering, how to be thankful and trust in God and His sovereignty no matter the circumstance. Read Philippians.Not just in one night. Study it carefully. Take a chapter a week. I dare you not to change your outlook on where your joy comes from.
  • In our Sunday School class, we’re studying 1 Peter. A question of suffering came up. Why is there suffering? Our fearless leader, Jeff, turned the question around. Does God suffer? While I knew the answer, I hadn’t really thought about it before. Or at least not at a time when I was willing to listen. We looked up a number of verses that pointed me to the same conclusion: While I suffered, He too suffered. (Isaiah 63:9). A simple thought, maybe, but it helped me turn my “heartless lifeguard” view of God around for good. As I ached, He ached too. My heart was broken. So was his. I am His child. A Father grieves for the pain their child feels. God suffered with me. Thanks Jeff and Renee for reminding me. At just the perfect time.
  • A Facebook friend posted this story about Malachi 3:3 He will sit as a refiner and purifier of silver; he will purify the Levites and refine them like gold and silver. The point of the story is that a refiner of silver knows it is pure when he sees his image on it. So God is working to purify me – help me to be a reflection of Him. Only as I read it, something else struck me: While he waits, He is holding me through the entire process. Feeling the heat from the flames. Waiting patiently for me to reflect His image.
    Thanks, Karen, for posting that when it had touched you. You have no idea how many others you touched by sharing it and making yourself vulnerable on FB.

And that’s where I am now. Realizing that I am about the most tarnished impure silver there is. While others have suffered and continue to thank the Lord for his faithfulness and love, I threw tantrums. I hated. I name-called. I kicked and screamed and denounced God. And all the while, He held me and suffered the pain I suffered. Patiently waiting for me to reflect an image of Him. Oh, how He’s waited. (And by the way, He will continue to wait. Because I will always have more to learn, ways to grow.)

Thank you, Lord, for your grace. For your patience. For your forgiveness of my stubborn and selfish ways. I want to be a reflection of You, for your glory. I’m just sorry that it’s taking me so long.

If you’ve read this far, you’re likely one of the people who love us and prayed for us during our loss nearly 6 years ago. Likely, you’re someone God put in our lives to help carry us through the storm. Maybe you were a person who reminded me on more than one occasion that yes, God still sits on the throne. How blessed I am to have had people in my path gently do just that; countless family, a friend, a co-worker, even my boss. Thank you. Thank you for your unwavering faith, for not giving up on God as I did, and for not giving up on us in prayer.

So now, it’s about time I grab hold of that anchor. More storms may come. They likely will. I cannot allow every wave to send me overboard or capsize the boat. It doesn’t mean it won’t be hard. I’m not saying there is no longer hurt with our loss. It doesn’t mean I don’t have any more questions. It just means that I have decided to trust the anchor I knew was there all along. It means I understand now, finally, that God is in control, and He does all things well. He doesn’t make mistakes. Our twins, their births, their death, wasn’t a mistake. He oversaw it all. And yet, He is good. I have to trust that. I’ve decided to follow Job’s lead and say, “The Lord gives and the Lord takes away. Blessed be the name of the LORD.”

My Sweetest Thing

Posted in Eucharisteo, grace, my boy, parenting (aint for sissies) by

Before you were here, I wondered…

…I love them so much. How can there possibly be more love in there for another?

aBut there was.  It multiplied. Bubbled up and overflowed. 2 years ago, you came. My heart melted at your sight. Perfect round cheeks, deep creases on every limb. Dark hair and eyes. Love multiplying. My perfect gift from God.

     

aYou were just so little when we had a scare. Lots of tests, lots of pokes in scary places testing for scary things. But you were safe in God’s hands. And we had some time to get to know each other, you and me. Just us, in the big hospital room with the teeniest-tiniest hospital gown I’d ever seen. I got to know you better then. And you got to know me and trusted so fully. My Brave One. And love multiplied again.

  

aNot much longer before you made yourself heard. Constant noises. Happy noises. My Content Boy, joyful heart. Increasing this love in my heart even more.

 

But it seems it isn’t just in my heart. A smile on the face of everyone you meet. You bring joy. You bring laughter. You fill hearts with love.

You are a workmanship of God.

aMoving. Walking, then running, then climbing. My Little Monkey into everything. And still, My Snuzzle Bug. My Curious George. My Van Gogh. His Maspterpiece.  How can this heart get bigger? But it does. Expanding so much, it’s sometimes hard to breathe. The fear of “what if?” But then I remember, you are God’s child. You were made for a purpose.

You are His Masterpiece. And you are My Gift.

   

aTalking. Talking. Always talking. And singing. And laughing. So much joy in you that you decide you must give it away. Something special… your words? your humor? your gentle heart? your smile? your song? Maybe all of these. Many hearts expanding with love. You make it so easy.

 

aAnd now. Starting my day hearing your voice. Always greeted with a smile. “Good mo-ning, Mama. I love you…  …SO much.” The way you talk. The way you walk to a beat. Your tightest hugs around my neck. Your thoughtfulness. “I frew it in garbage for you, Mama.” Or, “Look what I did! I got da milk out for you, Mama!” So proud. My Helper-Boy. My Teasing Boy. My Dancing Boy.

aToday you are two. If this heart expands more, it will burst. But you will find a way. It is your way. It is the Touch of God in you. You are special. You were made for a purpose. I love you, My Sweetest Thing. I love you, My Gift.

And I praise Him, because you are fearfully and wonderfully made; and His works are wonderful. I know that full well.

a“Before I formed you in the womb I knew you, before you were born I set you apart…” ~ Jeremiah 1:5

“For we are God’s workmanship, created in Christ Jesus to do good works, which God prepared in advance for us to do.” ~ Epheisans 2:10

Psalm 139:14

The Return

Posted in Eucharisteo, holidays, laughter, my boy by

This morning, while I was in Bible Study discussing Philippians and Annalise was in Kid’s Bible Class learning about God’s power and the importance of obeying him (Naaman’s healing from leprosy), Jacob was learning about Jesus ascending into heaven 40 days after his resurrection. Only I did not know this until later when I picked the kids up from their classes and this conversation took place in the van as we headed to the babysitter’s house:

Jacob: Mommy, bloo up da clouds!

Me: What?

Jacob: BLOO up da CLOUDS!

Me: What???

Annalise: Mom! I think in his Bible Class, they BLEW UP a CLOUD!!!

Me: No, I don’t think they did that.

Annalise: YES. That is what he just said!!!

Me: Jacob, can you tell me again what you said?

Jacob: BLOONnn up da clouds!

Me: The balloon went up in the clouds?

Jacob: YES! BLOON up da clouds!

Me: Did your class send a balloon up to the clouds?

Jacob: YES! Bloon up da clouds! Dis (just) like JESUS!

Me: Ohhh! You sent a balloon up into the clouds, just like Jesus went up? You’re so right, Jacob! Jesus went up into the clouds, to heaven, right?

Jacob: Wight, mommy. And He comin’ back.

Me: Yes, Jacob. He’s coming back some day. I can’t wait.

Jacob: Yep.  And He bringin’ me BLOON back!!!

Oh, how I love that boy…

Oh, how I love our church and the Truth taught there…

Oh, how excited I am for the promise of His return…

…Only if it happens soon, Jacob may be disappointed if Jesus comes with no balloon. Then again, maybe He would. Just for my boy, who is such a gift from God.

Acts 1:11  “Why are you standing here looking into the sky? This Jesus has gone away to heaven, and some day, just as He went, He will return!”

Revelation 1:7  “Look, He is coming with the clouds, and every eye will see Him, even those who pierced Him; and all the peoples of the earth will mourn because of Him. So shall it be! Amen.” 

Amen!