I know. Not the happiest of titles, but I'm afraid my random thoughts might not be happy either.
Today my brother got a letter from the Florida parole board explaining that in September 2011 the man who killed our father almost twenty two years ago will be up for parole. Today has been a blur since that news was shared. We were told a long time ago that if we wanted to make sure he stayed in prison that all we had to do was write a letter to the parole board. But it leaves me asking, Why write the letter?
Who am I that I should decide the fate of a man who made a stupid mistake? (He got scared during a robbery and pulled the trigger.) Yes, I think we need to pay for our mistakes. Yes, I think people who commit murder should go to prison. I don't think he should spend the rest of his life in jail though. He's already spent over half his life there. Do I deserve freedom anymore than him? How many times have I driven too fast, or pushed my car through the light that was a little too red? How many times have I been behind the wheel after drinking something? Or how many times have I blacked out from drinking? The answer doesn't matter because ONE time is too many.
Through my relationship with Christ I have learned to forgive the man, Keith Minor. A few years ago, maybe seven, I felt the conviction on my heart to write him and share my beliefs and my forgiveness. None of us ever deserves grace or forgiveness. It is only through the One who paid it all for all that any of us receive grace. And it's our job as believers to pass that on to those who have hurt us. The Lord's prayer makes it pretty simple "Forgive us as we have forgiven others." Why is the God of the universe going to forgive us of so much when we are unable to forgive so little. God doesn't have a rating for sins the way humans do. Me drinking too much even one time is the same in His eyes as Keith Minor killing my father. Through that letter a line of communication was opened. He is truly sorry for what he did, not just because it has cost him so much, but genuinely sorry. I still have that first letter. We wrote back and forth for a couple years. He shared with me a lot of the pain of his past and his anger with God over the death of his own parents. (His father killed his mother and then committed suicide on a Sunday morning as Keith was getting himself ready for church.) I also sent him a bible and asked him to read it, starting in the New Testament. He was hesitant because of his anger with God but told me he would anyway basically because he had nothing better to do. One of the last letters I received shared with me that he had become a believer and received Christ's free gift of salvation. I don't know where his walk is, but I do know that the same Holy Spirit that occupies me also occupies him. I know that God has given him a second chance, just like he's given me, even if society isn't ready for that. And if Jesus can forgive the men who took His life shouldn't I be able to do the same for the man who took my father?
But then the other side of me yells inside. He took my Daddy. Twenty two years ago I lost one of the most amazing men I will ever know. He robbed my Daddy of seeing my high school graduation, welcoming my first serious crush into the house before going out for the evening, walking me down the aisle at my wedding, seeing his grandchildren born. I've lost twenty two years of laughing and watching Bears and Cubs games. I've lost out on fixing things. He would have loved my Mustang. He would probably be helping me right now with the little projects that are over my head around the house... the leaky faucet in the bathroom, the electrical box that needs repaired. He was an amazing man of God and where I've gotten my heart for serving God. He knew that as a believer service was a privilege and responsibility, not an obligation. My children, nieces, nephews and even my baby sister, don't know my father as anything more than a picture that sits on top of my entertainment center with the flag from his coffin. They know that's where Martin got his name. They know the story of how he died. But they've been robbed of a Grandpa. And if my Dad was such an amazing daddy, how much better would he be at being a Grandpa whose soul job is spoiling and fun?
I think what it comes down to is this, no matter who writes a letter, how long he sits in jail, whether he received the death penalty or life in prison... no matter what else happens, no one, NO ONE, can bring my father back to me or my family. And if it can't do that, then what's the point?
Wednesday, January 20, 2010
Sunday, January 17, 2010
Coke Free
So I've been Coke free for a full week. In one week I've learned a lot about myself, but more about the people around me. I feel like an addiction is an addiction. Anything that takes us away from our fullness in Christ is an addiction. Anything we yearn for more than Him and His Will is an addiction. Somehow though, people think I'm kidding when I say that I've given up Coke because of this. I've been offered Coke countless times this week. And most of the time it has been by people in my life who follow it with, it's "JUST ONE Coke." I can't seem to make people understand my feelings on it. It's almost embarassing. No, it is embarassing. I feel like they think I'm a joke, or that this whole thing is a joke. How can I make people see that I want to be closer to Christ and want to remove all obstacles on that journey.
Monday, August 3, 2009
Sharing on Zambia
I spoke at my church yesterday about my mission trip to Zambia. I was given just a few minutes to answer some questions about the trip and what God accomplished through us. I shared about everything that I could in the short time. If you've asked me about Zambia since I've gotten home you know I will talk your arm and ears off, so getting my thoughts down to 5-7 minutes was a real struggle.
Anyway, I spoke on the positive aspects of Zambia, the things that are in the control of each individual. They have such a hunger for God and fellowship with Him and His people. They will sit for hours on Sunday mornings, after walking for hours to get there. Yes, I said walking. They also have such a joy for God. Jesus said that it would be easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than a rich man to enter the kingdom of heaven. I know the reason now. We have so much that we don't think we need God. As Americans we are the richest people in the world. Even the poorest people in our country, the people who bust their butts for minimum wage, are among the richest people in the world. They have pure joy for the Lord. You can see the joy in the eyes of the people that really "get" it. I'm actually jealous of their joy and have started praying to have that kind of joy for Jesus.
The negative things were the things the people of Zambia could not control individually. Polygamy is still legal there. In a country that admits that 25% of their population is HIV positive you would think step one would be outlawing polygamy. Instead women are still treated as property. They have a wife for cooking, a wife for cleaning and another for those "extra" duties. Women have no voice and no rights there. Another thing they don't have control over is their financial situation. The minimum wage in Zambia is the equivalent of $300... a YEAR! They live in small one room huts-no electric, no plumbing, no seperate rooms for each kid, no cable, no AC, no Italian tile flooring or granite counter tops. They cook outside over a fire, or sometimes in a cooking hut. (These look like what we think of when we hear Tiki huts.) And because of their income they eat only sheema. I've compared it to poor man's grits. Imagine grits, with no salt, butter, cheese or any type of spices. They eat that for three meals a day. Sometimes they have meat that they can dip it in, sometimes they have vegetables. Otherwise, it's just sheema.
After talking about all of this I talked about Global Samaritans and the outreach they do. They run the orphanage there that we stayed at. We have 50-60 children. (I honestly lost count because we got some new kids while we were there.) The majority of children are orphans of the AIDS crisis. Some of the kids though have been taken away from their parents. One of the girls, Catherine, is a one of the most beautiful girls I have met in my entire life. Her mother sold her into prostitution when she was around 8 years old. She realized how wrong this was and went to social services. She was thankfully taken away from her mother. She has the joy of the Lord I was talking about earlier. She knows Jesus loves her and that radiates through all she does. I also spoke about Joe, the little boy that my husband and I are going to sponsor. We don't have a lot of money. In face, by American standards we're really poor. We have four children and he's a lower enlisted in the Army. We're making sacrifices though to sponsor this little boy and another little boy through World Vision. Through Global Samaritans we pay $30 a month for Joe's care. That $30 a month feeds him, clothes him, shelters him, educates him in God's way and gives him medical care. We can choose to change the life of a little boy for what it costs for our family to go out to a cheap place, once. We are choosing to help this boy and sacrificing eating out, something we as Americans do too much anyway. I also spoke of the other boys that still need sponsors, since new children showed up while we were there. These boys don't have sponsors yet. I "thought" that people would be willing to sacrifice a little to change the life of one boy for eternity. Only one person came to speak to me after though. She said she needed to talk to her husband after getting the details. One of the boys was sponsored, by someone in my life who is on Disability and has a very, very limited income. She was willing to sacrifice, while the people driving the brand new cars, looking at their watches to see when it would be time to go to get their own lunch at the restaurant of their choosing, were not willing to sacrifice. It is so hard to not be frustrated. And angry. I'm praying for God to change the hearts of His people. I guess it really is easier for that camel to make it through the eye of a needle. If for whatever reason you feel led to sponsor a child please send me a message for more information. I'm not going to stop until I have found the sponsors God has for these boys.
Anyway, I spoke on the positive aspects of Zambia, the things that are in the control of each individual. They have such a hunger for God and fellowship with Him and His people. They will sit for hours on Sunday mornings, after walking for hours to get there. Yes, I said walking. They also have such a joy for God. Jesus said that it would be easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than a rich man to enter the kingdom of heaven. I know the reason now. We have so much that we don't think we need God. As Americans we are the richest people in the world. Even the poorest people in our country, the people who bust their butts for minimum wage, are among the richest people in the world. They have pure joy for the Lord. You can see the joy in the eyes of the people that really "get" it. I'm actually jealous of their joy and have started praying to have that kind of joy for Jesus.
The negative things were the things the people of Zambia could not control individually. Polygamy is still legal there. In a country that admits that 25% of their population is HIV positive you would think step one would be outlawing polygamy. Instead women are still treated as property. They have a wife for cooking, a wife for cleaning and another for those "extra" duties. Women have no voice and no rights there. Another thing they don't have control over is their financial situation. The minimum wage in Zambia is the equivalent of $300... a YEAR! They live in small one room huts-no electric, no plumbing, no seperate rooms for each kid, no cable, no AC, no Italian tile flooring or granite counter tops. They cook outside over a fire, or sometimes in a cooking hut. (These look like what we think of when we hear Tiki huts.) And because of their income they eat only sheema. I've compared it to poor man's grits. Imagine grits, with no salt, butter, cheese or any type of spices. They eat that for three meals a day. Sometimes they have meat that they can dip it in, sometimes they have vegetables. Otherwise, it's just sheema.
After talking about all of this I talked about Global Samaritans and the outreach they do. They run the orphanage there that we stayed at. We have 50-60 children. (I honestly lost count because we got some new kids while we were there.) The majority of children are orphans of the AIDS crisis. Some of the kids though have been taken away from their parents. One of the girls, Catherine, is a one of the most beautiful girls I have met in my entire life. Her mother sold her into prostitution when she was around 8 years old. She realized how wrong this was and went to social services. She was thankfully taken away from her mother. She has the joy of the Lord I was talking about earlier. She knows Jesus loves her and that radiates through all she does. I also spoke about Joe, the little boy that my husband and I are going to sponsor. We don't have a lot of money. In face, by American standards we're really poor. We have four children and he's a lower enlisted in the Army. We're making sacrifices though to sponsor this little boy and another little boy through World Vision. Through Global Samaritans we pay $30 a month for Joe's care. That $30 a month feeds him, clothes him, shelters him, educates him in God's way and gives him medical care. We can choose to change the life of a little boy for what it costs for our family to go out to a cheap place, once. We are choosing to help this boy and sacrificing eating out, something we as Americans do too much anyway. I also spoke of the other boys that still need sponsors, since new children showed up while we were there. These boys don't have sponsors yet. I "thought" that people would be willing to sacrifice a little to change the life of one boy for eternity. Only one person came to speak to me after though. She said she needed to talk to her husband after getting the details. One of the boys was sponsored, by someone in my life who is on Disability and has a very, very limited income. She was willing to sacrifice, while the people driving the brand new cars, looking at their watches to see when it would be time to go to get their own lunch at the restaurant of their choosing, were not willing to sacrifice. It is so hard to not be frustrated. And angry. I'm praying for God to change the hearts of His people. I guess it really is easier for that camel to make it through the eye of a needle. If for whatever reason you feel led to sponsor a child please send me a message for more information. I'm not going to stop until I have found the sponsors God has for these boys.
Sunday, July 19, 2009
My little mustard seed
We hear all the time about how we should have the faith of a mustard seed. Just the faith of a little seed and we can move mountains. (Matthew 17:20 ) So many times though, our faith sits, stagnant and doesn't grow.
I've just returned from Zambia, Africa. That has been my biggest step of faith ever. While I was preparing for my trip I kept praying about that faith of a mustard seed. "Lord, help me overcome my unbelief." (Mark 9:24) I knew I was going to a volatile place and knew I had to be on my A-game. No second guessing once I got there. Zambia has forever changed me, just like I was told it would. The people will forever be in my thoughts and prayers, even if I don't know if I'll see them again this side of heaven. For a long time I've been growing my fruits of the spirit but could never find my joy because of past hurts. But now, I have found my joy and I am swimming in the sea of that joy.
Back to the mustard seed, we always hear about that seed. How just a little faith and we can move the mountains in our lives. But have you ever thought about what it means to be a seed? Or the faith of a seed? Ask any gardener, if you sit a seed, any seed, in a jar, up on a shelf, it will do nothing. When we let our faith sit, it will do nothing. No growing. In order for our faith to grow, we as seeds, have to be planted and guess what, WE HAVE TO GET DIRTY! We can't grow our faith sitting in our living rooms, in our fake plastic lives and expect our faith to grow. We have to put ourselves out there- in the dirt of life, in the "fertilizer," in order to have any chance of growing. The more dirt, the better that seed is going to grow. Put a seed in a small pot, with dirt, on your porch, it can only grow so big. Put the same seed in your backyard, add some living water, and bam! Instead of a small plant you now have a tree. We have to get dirty. In order for our faith to grow, to where God wants our faith to grow, there has to be dirt.
So where's the dirt in your life? What is your comfort zone that you're sitting in, making excuses for your faith not growing? Are you sitting in that plastic life and complaining because you just don't feel close to God? Why aren't you out there, getting dirty for Him?!
I'm not just talking about Zambia, or even missions. We all have a calling and not everyone is called to love on the people of Africa the way I have been. But what about the people you see everyday who are hurting? What about your neighbor, your sister, your friend? There is someone in your life God is calling you to love, but you sit back and are scared of getting dirty, scared of getting hurt, scared of the "what if's."
If you ever want to grow in your faith to the level you see in others you have to step out. You have to find yourself firmly planted in Him, letting the dirt of life surround you and the living water fill you, if you ever, EVER, want to see the mountains in your life move.
I've just returned from Zambia, Africa. That has been my biggest step of faith ever. While I was preparing for my trip I kept praying about that faith of a mustard seed. "Lord, help me overcome my unbelief." (Mark 9:24) I knew I was going to a volatile place and knew I had to be on my A-game. No second guessing once I got there. Zambia has forever changed me, just like I was told it would. The people will forever be in my thoughts and prayers, even if I don't know if I'll see them again this side of heaven. For a long time I've been growing my fruits of the spirit but could never find my joy because of past hurts. But now, I have found my joy and I am swimming in the sea of that joy.
Back to the mustard seed, we always hear about that seed. How just a little faith and we can move the mountains in our lives. But have you ever thought about what it means to be a seed? Or the faith of a seed? Ask any gardener, if you sit a seed, any seed, in a jar, up on a shelf, it will do nothing. When we let our faith sit, it will do nothing. No growing. In order for our faith to grow, we as seeds, have to be planted and guess what, WE HAVE TO GET DIRTY! We can't grow our faith sitting in our living rooms, in our fake plastic lives and expect our faith to grow. We have to put ourselves out there- in the dirt of life, in the "fertilizer," in order to have any chance of growing. The more dirt, the better that seed is going to grow. Put a seed in a small pot, with dirt, on your porch, it can only grow so big. Put the same seed in your backyard, add some living water, and bam! Instead of a small plant you now have a tree. We have to get dirty. In order for our faith to grow, to where God wants our faith to grow, there has to be dirt.
So where's the dirt in your life? What is your comfort zone that you're sitting in, making excuses for your faith not growing? Are you sitting in that plastic life and complaining because you just don't feel close to God? Why aren't you out there, getting dirty for Him?!
I'm not just talking about Zambia, or even missions. We all have a calling and not everyone is called to love on the people of Africa the way I have been. But what about the people you see everyday who are hurting? What about your neighbor, your sister, your friend? There is someone in your life God is calling you to love, but you sit back and are scared of getting dirty, scared of getting hurt, scared of the "what if's."
If you ever want to grow in your faith to the level you see in others you have to step out. You have to find yourself firmly planted in Him, letting the dirt of life surround you and the living water fill you, if you ever, EVER, want to see the mountains in your life move.
Monday, February 9, 2009
For Such A Time As This...
"... For such a time as this." (Esther 4:14)
I've been thinking a lot lately about this little scripture from Esther. It's seemingly innocent, Mordecai's reply to Esther about what was going on in the kingdom, the Jewish people facing a threat on their lives.
I'm increasingly frustrated with the state of this world, this country. We have families struggling to survive. And I'm not talking about physically surviving. I'm talking about surviving as a family unit. Men, women and children are all being attacked. And we're completely clueless as a nation. We believe that we deserve all of this "stuff" just because we're Americans. Truthfully none of us deserves any of this. I don't deserve to be sitting in a four bedroom house with two bathrooms. Not when there are families all over the world living in one room huts.
I remember a few years ago having a pastor from Zambia over to our house. Hubby and I had been called to be full time missionaries and were in the beginning stages of planning our taking our family (only two kids at the time) to Zambia to help run an orphanage there. Pastor Chewe was nearing the end of his trip. He'd spent time with a lot of people from our church, all of whom were very well off. He'd been to their six bedroom, three story houses on the lake. And then we invited him to have supper with us at our little three bedroom ranch that we were renting. We mentioned feeling a little embarassed because our house was so humble compared to the other places he'd stayed. I remember him looking at us and saying "This would be a mansion where I live." We'd been so worried about how we compared to other Americans that we had forgotten about where our guest came from. He lived in a small hut. He'd lost his wife to the HIV/AIDS crisis in Africa. He, himself, was battling (and has since lost that battle) HIV and hepatitis.
I get caught up in the keeping up with the Jones's. Hubby and I are both very guilty of it. And so now are our kids. Every once in awhile though I have these moments of clarity, or maybe extremeism. I get so frustrated by the views of a lot of Americans that I want to sell everything and move to a little hut in the woods somewhere. My own little uni-bomber type shack. I want to just cut myself from all of the outside world. I've even thought about converting to Amish just so I coule move into their communities.
Then I hear that still, small voice whisper to me.... "For such a time as this." God could have created me at any point in history. He could have made me back in the days of Christ. I could have been one of those that perished when Noah's flood came. I could have been created in the days of Little House on the Prairie. But instead, God wanted to make me now. He knew that He could use me here, now. He doesn't want me to go running and hiding, avoiding all contact with people. He wants me to live in this world, making a difference for Him. He wants me to use the tools we've been blessed with to do His work. I can use email for good. I can use TV for good. I can use my skills and talents here. Now. I'm not called to be timid. 2 Timothy says that as a believer in Christ I have been called to have a spirit of power, of love and of self discipline.
I've got the love thing down, though I could always use help. I struggle with loving those that don't love me. And I struggle with worrying what people think about me.
Power and self-discipline. Well that's just a different story altogether. Too often I let my flesh get the best of my body. I eat more than I should. Or drink more coffee than I should. I get frustrated and lash out in anger, instead of in love. (Guess I don't have that love thing down afterall.) I spend more time on the computer than I should. Or watch things that aren't good for me to watch. I'm getting better at the power thing. I view that as standing up for what I know is right, even when it isn't the popular opinion. The problem there is that I sometimes get too opinionated. I've offended people with my political views. I'm working on finding that balance.
That's what it's all about though right. Living for Christ in a fallen world requires balance.
Lord, thank you for your wisdom. You created me for such a time as this. You created me to be here, in 2009. Please allow me to use the things You have blessed me with for Your glory. And only Your glory. Please help me get myself out of the way of You. I just want to be a tool, used for Your glory, reaching Your children for You.
I've been thinking a lot lately about this little scripture from Esther. It's seemingly innocent, Mordecai's reply to Esther about what was going on in the kingdom, the Jewish people facing a threat on their lives.
I'm increasingly frustrated with the state of this world, this country. We have families struggling to survive. And I'm not talking about physically surviving. I'm talking about surviving as a family unit. Men, women and children are all being attacked. And we're completely clueless as a nation. We believe that we deserve all of this "stuff" just because we're Americans. Truthfully none of us deserves any of this. I don't deserve to be sitting in a four bedroom house with two bathrooms. Not when there are families all over the world living in one room huts.
I remember a few years ago having a pastor from Zambia over to our house. Hubby and I had been called to be full time missionaries and were in the beginning stages of planning our taking our family (only two kids at the time) to Zambia to help run an orphanage there. Pastor Chewe was nearing the end of his trip. He'd spent time with a lot of people from our church, all of whom were very well off. He'd been to their six bedroom, three story houses on the lake. And then we invited him to have supper with us at our little three bedroom ranch that we were renting. We mentioned feeling a little embarassed because our house was so humble compared to the other places he'd stayed. I remember him looking at us and saying "This would be a mansion where I live." We'd been so worried about how we compared to other Americans that we had forgotten about where our guest came from. He lived in a small hut. He'd lost his wife to the HIV/AIDS crisis in Africa. He, himself, was battling (and has since lost that battle) HIV and hepatitis.
I get caught up in the keeping up with the Jones's. Hubby and I are both very guilty of it. And so now are our kids. Every once in awhile though I have these moments of clarity, or maybe extremeism. I get so frustrated by the views of a lot of Americans that I want to sell everything and move to a little hut in the woods somewhere. My own little uni-bomber type shack. I want to just cut myself from all of the outside world. I've even thought about converting to Amish just so I coule move into their communities.
Then I hear that still, small voice whisper to me.... "For such a time as this." God could have created me at any point in history. He could have made me back in the days of Christ. I could have been one of those that perished when Noah's flood came. I could have been created in the days of Little House on the Prairie. But instead, God wanted to make me now. He knew that He could use me here, now. He doesn't want me to go running and hiding, avoiding all contact with people. He wants me to live in this world, making a difference for Him. He wants me to use the tools we've been blessed with to do His work. I can use email for good. I can use TV for good. I can use my skills and talents here. Now. I'm not called to be timid. 2 Timothy says that as a believer in Christ I have been called to have a spirit of power, of love and of self discipline.
I've got the love thing down, though I could always use help. I struggle with loving those that don't love me. And I struggle with worrying what people think about me.
Power and self-discipline. Well that's just a different story altogether. Too often I let my flesh get the best of my body. I eat more than I should. Or drink more coffee than I should. I get frustrated and lash out in anger, instead of in love. (Guess I don't have that love thing down afterall.) I spend more time on the computer than I should. Or watch things that aren't good for me to watch. I'm getting better at the power thing. I view that as standing up for what I know is right, even when it isn't the popular opinion. The problem there is that I sometimes get too opinionated. I've offended people with my political views. I'm working on finding that balance.
That's what it's all about though right. Living for Christ in a fallen world requires balance.
Lord, thank you for your wisdom. You created me for such a time as this. You created me to be here, in 2009. Please allow me to use the things You have blessed me with for Your glory. And only Your glory. Please help me get myself out of the way of You. I just want to be a tool, used for Your glory, reaching Your children for You.
Tuesday, December 30, 2008
As the year comes to an end...
Just a quick little blog. Sitting on my grandmother in law's computer and it's as old as some of my kids... but I wanted to put some thoughts out in cyber world and off my mind.
Yesterday was December 29. Just another day for most. But for me, it was the day I was supposed to become a mother for the fifth time. Yesterday was the due date for the baby we lost back in May. I never thought that a baby I didn't plan (not that any of my other four have been planned) and never met could be missed so much. But I've wiped quite a few tears away the last few days thinking about that baby. I also have been thinking about the other mothers of Christmas. What mothers are those you say? Well the bible tells us that because Herod was so scared of losing his throne he put to death all baby boys under the age of two when he heard that Jesus had been born. We always think about Mary, Joseph and baby Jesus at Christmas. Perfectly clean, in a clean world, never having to worry or be scared. This year though, my heart still fresh with a pain I never thought I would know, my thoughts have turned to the mothers who had to hand their babies over to King Herod's men, to be killed. Babies that were ripped from their mothers arms, just because they happened to be born at the wrong time. I can empathize now. How many of those mothers wished they had been the ones that were taken instead? How many of them, faithful God-fearing Jewish women, questionned God in their time of pain and anguish?
Back when I first lost the baby a good friend called to check on me. All I remember of that conversation (besides the appreciation that the topic wasn't avoided) was when he said the scripture in Job I've repeated to myself many times... "He (God) gives and takes away." I won't pretend to understand why God allowed me to get pregnant, just to take the baby away again. Could I have needed to be taught more on pain? More about submitting myself to God's plan? I've repeated that scripture to myself many times since that day in May. Every time I hear the song with those lyrics I can't sing out loud, for fear of losing myself into a hysterical puddle of crying goo.
In my Earth centered body, trying to focus on heaven, I like to paint a little picture. It's of my Dad, who was killed when I was twelve, holding that little baby we lost. (I imagine the baby as a boy.) He never got to meet any of his grandchildren. And maybe, just maybe, God wanted to give my Daddy a special gift I couldn't give him. I named my first son after him, but I couldn't give him the gift of being the first to hold one of his grandchildren. So maybe, in heaven, my Daddy is sitting in a rocking chair, surrounded by all the other people I've lost in my life, holding my little baby... rocking him, holding him close, singing to him and thinking about me.
I'm trying to heal this pain, but there are times when the pain seems so fresh, like the day I after, when I woke up and remembered I wasn't pregnant anymore. I'm trying.
He gives and takes away... but Lord, BLESSED be YOUR name!!!
Yesterday was December 29. Just another day for most. But for me, it was the day I was supposed to become a mother for the fifth time. Yesterday was the due date for the baby we lost back in May. I never thought that a baby I didn't plan (not that any of my other four have been planned) and never met could be missed so much. But I've wiped quite a few tears away the last few days thinking about that baby. I also have been thinking about the other mothers of Christmas. What mothers are those you say? Well the bible tells us that because Herod was so scared of losing his throne he put to death all baby boys under the age of two when he heard that Jesus had been born. We always think about Mary, Joseph and baby Jesus at Christmas. Perfectly clean, in a clean world, never having to worry or be scared. This year though, my heart still fresh with a pain I never thought I would know, my thoughts have turned to the mothers who had to hand their babies over to King Herod's men, to be killed. Babies that were ripped from their mothers arms, just because they happened to be born at the wrong time. I can empathize now. How many of those mothers wished they had been the ones that were taken instead? How many of them, faithful God-fearing Jewish women, questionned God in their time of pain and anguish?
Back when I first lost the baby a good friend called to check on me. All I remember of that conversation (besides the appreciation that the topic wasn't avoided) was when he said the scripture in Job I've repeated to myself many times... "He (God) gives and takes away." I won't pretend to understand why God allowed me to get pregnant, just to take the baby away again. Could I have needed to be taught more on pain? More about submitting myself to God's plan? I've repeated that scripture to myself many times since that day in May. Every time I hear the song with those lyrics I can't sing out loud, for fear of losing myself into a hysterical puddle of crying goo.
In my Earth centered body, trying to focus on heaven, I like to paint a little picture. It's of my Dad, who was killed when I was twelve, holding that little baby we lost. (I imagine the baby as a boy.) He never got to meet any of his grandchildren. And maybe, just maybe, God wanted to give my Daddy a special gift I couldn't give him. I named my first son after him, but I couldn't give him the gift of being the first to hold one of his grandchildren. So maybe, in heaven, my Daddy is sitting in a rocking chair, surrounded by all the other people I've lost in my life, holding my little baby... rocking him, holding him close, singing to him and thinking about me.
I'm trying to heal this pain, but there are times when the pain seems so fresh, like the day I after, when I woke up and remembered I wasn't pregnant anymore. I'm trying.
He gives and takes away... but Lord, BLESSED be YOUR name!!!
Monday, November 10, 2008
Truth in Love
So, on my recent cross country trek I had a lot of time to think. I mean, once you OOO and AAHH over the scenery for half an hour, it all starts to look the same. So that brought on some time to think and reflect.
I've been thinking and praying a lot on the term "Speaking the truth in love." (Ephesians 4:15)
I always wondered how one does that exactly. Some things can't be said lovingly. The people in the south have figured out a way to lessen the blow a bit by following everything harsh with "Bless Her Heart." It's not the same though as speaking the truth in love.
I've been praying about my witness, praying to show me if I've been harsh in this way, feeling justified of my words because of the other person being a Christian. Then it hit me, as clear as the sun outside (not in Washington LOL). It's all about relationship, just like everything Jesus taught. You take the time, building a relationship with someone. You learn to trust them and love them. You learn that they're standing firm on the solid rock of Jesus. You see them walking everyday with Him. And then, only then, is when the truth can be spoken in love. You build the relationship in brotherly love and can speak the truth.
I'm learning to distinguish truth from the lies of Satan in my everyday conversation. Satan tells me I'm worthless, that I'm a horrible mother. God tells me that He can see how much I love my children in the way we play together, or sing songs in the car in silly voices. He shines light on my flaws, but He doesn't attack me with lies. His word is truth. I'm learning to listen only to the voices that speak truth into my life. I'm also realizing the concept of quality over quantity of friends. I don't have to speak to someone everyday, or see someone everyday. If they are truly my friend they will love me and be praying for me even without the daily contact. I'm concentrating on hearing God's voice through the people He has blessed me with... my husband, my children and a few select (less than 10) friends whose words have spoken truth to my heart.
Most of those friends (except two) are back in Washington. That makes it so hard to start again here. I know though that those people, the ones who are truly my friends, will love me unconditionally, even 3000 miles away. These are the people who love me, love my kids, my husband and even my dog. These are the people who love me even though I'm a die hard Republican and they're die hard Democrats. (We just don't talk about it. LOL) They're the people that have gone to the ER with me. They're the ones that have helped me fold laundry, instead of just avoiding coming into my house. They're the ones who have taken my kids when I needed a little break. They've shown up on my doorstep with coffee when I needed it most. They're the ones that when I didn't have my husband to ask biblical questions of were willing to stand in the gap and answer my weekly silly questions. They're the ones who laugh over things like grits, Chick-Fil-A and The Wal Mart in an accent that is not anywhere near southern, but somehow we both found (and only use with each other). Like I said, they love me unconditionally. They can speak truth to me anytime.
I know that we've been moved here as part of God's plan for our life. I'm so scared though that I can't possibly find the kind of friends I left behind in Washington. But then I'm reminded of Jeremiah 29:11... "For I know the plans I have for you," declares the LORD, "plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future." My hope is to be in Him. And if He has taken us all the way across the country He has something amazing in store for us. Somewhere out there in Georgia and Alabama God has people that need the kind of love I've been shown. I just have to choose to Believe His Truth because He Loves Me. :D
I've been thinking and praying a lot on the term "Speaking the truth in love." (Ephesians 4:15)
I always wondered how one does that exactly. Some things can't be said lovingly. The people in the south have figured out a way to lessen the blow a bit by following everything harsh with "Bless Her Heart." It's not the same though as speaking the truth in love.
I've been praying about my witness, praying to show me if I've been harsh in this way, feeling justified of my words because of the other person being a Christian. Then it hit me, as clear as the sun outside (not in Washington LOL). It's all about relationship, just like everything Jesus taught. You take the time, building a relationship with someone. You learn to trust them and love them. You learn that they're standing firm on the solid rock of Jesus. You see them walking everyday with Him. And then, only then, is when the truth can be spoken in love. You build the relationship in brotherly love and can speak the truth.
I'm learning to distinguish truth from the lies of Satan in my everyday conversation. Satan tells me I'm worthless, that I'm a horrible mother. God tells me that He can see how much I love my children in the way we play together, or sing songs in the car in silly voices. He shines light on my flaws, but He doesn't attack me with lies. His word is truth. I'm learning to listen only to the voices that speak truth into my life. I'm also realizing the concept of quality over quantity of friends. I don't have to speak to someone everyday, or see someone everyday. If they are truly my friend they will love me and be praying for me even without the daily contact. I'm concentrating on hearing God's voice through the people He has blessed me with... my husband, my children and a few select (less than 10) friends whose words have spoken truth to my heart.
Most of those friends (except two) are back in Washington. That makes it so hard to start again here. I know though that those people, the ones who are truly my friends, will love me unconditionally, even 3000 miles away. These are the people who love me, love my kids, my husband and even my dog. These are the people who love me even though I'm a die hard Republican and they're die hard Democrats. (We just don't talk about it. LOL) They're the people that have gone to the ER with me. They're the ones that have helped me fold laundry, instead of just avoiding coming into my house. They're the ones who have taken my kids when I needed a little break. They've shown up on my doorstep with coffee when I needed it most. They're the ones that when I didn't have my husband to ask biblical questions of were willing to stand in the gap and answer my weekly silly questions. They're the ones who laugh over things like grits, Chick-Fil-A and The Wal Mart in an accent that is not anywhere near southern, but somehow we both found (and only use with each other). Like I said, they love me unconditionally. They can speak truth to me anytime.
I know that we've been moved here as part of God's plan for our life. I'm so scared though that I can't possibly find the kind of friends I left behind in Washington. But then I'm reminded of Jeremiah 29:11... "For I know the plans I have for you," declares the LORD, "plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future." My hope is to be in Him. And if He has taken us all the way across the country He has something amazing in store for us. Somewhere out there in Georgia and Alabama God has people that need the kind of love I've been shown. I just have to choose to Believe His Truth because He Loves Me. :D
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