On A Day Like Today...

Full disclosure:  I've about had it with this week. I don't think I can face another wrench in the works regarding any of my responsibilities. I won't go into the details of the itemized list...it's not so much the details anyway, as it's my attitude regarding them.

And don't think that it's lost on me that the troubles of this week coincide with my firm resolve to thank deeply and daily...or, mostly daily.  It's always the way of the enemy to prey upon our penchant for giving into self but when we become resolve to set self aside in exchange for more of Him, our nemesis bears down hard.

It's always far easier to complain about my injuries--justified & unjustified--than it is to be thankful for them; or even be thankful for the good things surrounding them. I need the soothing salve of true gratitude to set my mind at peace--on things above.

I will thank...I will thank.

27--A Gift Sweet, Sour, Salty: Pumpkin-flavored coffee; Leftover Halloween Gummies; Herbed Zucchini
28--Three Gifts Found In Little People: Hugs & Snuggles at Bedtime; That I get to be her Mama; Gangly legs and snaggle-tooths
29--Three Gifts That Make Me Laugh: The Hubbs; Dr. Who Humor; Grumpy Kiddo Talk
30--Three Gifts Found In Community: Service; Acceptance; Fellowship
31--A Gift In A Plate, Pot, Package:  Pork Chops & Mashed Potatoes; Warm Potato Soup; Recipes from a Friend
32--Three Gifts Hard Giving Thanks For:  The Possibility of No More Children; Uncertainty; Weakness
33--A Gift Worn, White, Whispered: Earrings from a Friend; Clean Sheets of Paper; Sweet Nothings from Hubbs
34--Three Gifts In Today's Work: Caught up laundry; Transformative thinking; Cozy Home
35--A Gift at 8am, 12pm, 8pm: Surprise egg; Laundry success; Hot Bath
36--Three Gifts Blue:  Sweatpants; Sky Behind Clouds; Favorite Eyeliner

Imperfect Progress

Imperfect progress. It's a term I read recently in this book.  And it's a term I really like because so often, my labor at doing life encapsulates one of these two ideas.

Chevrons...nailed it...

I realized last night at 11:54pm that I had not put pen to page, as it were, to thank and share thanks as I had planned. But too often for me the checked boxes of productivity are idols. I talked about this today at Bible study--a clean house, a well-manicured to-do list, all the little ducks in their ordered little row...these things do not make me pure. These things do not make me successful. These things do not mean that I have it all together.

Jesus said, "it is not what goes into the mouth that defiles a person, but what comes out of the mouth; this defiles a person." 

Humans use measuring sticks to quantify the good, the bad, the ugly. But it's not about the rules you're supposed to follow to be considered good or the boxes you're supposed to check to  I am, at my heart, corrupt. I am defiled. My words, the product of a murderous, double-edged, soaked-in-poison weapon. I find my remedy only in trusting Jesus. His Spirit tames my tongue; transforms my heart. That is salvation.

And I don't have my act together no matter how many boxes I check. There's too much imperfect in my progress. But it's progress and it's grace-covered and transformation still happens slowly because of Him. That is sanctification.

So I trudge onward, thanking, raising my ebenezers:

17--A Gift Outside, Inside, Upside Down: Golden & Scarlet Autumn Leaves; Warm; Kiddo hanging off the Couch
18--3 Gifts About Your Parents: Faithful to Each Other; Honest; Creative
19--3 Gifts Held In Hand Today: Kiddo Hand; Coffee; the Word
20--3 Gifts Found In Your Mother: Kind; Prayer Warrior; Tenacious
21--A Gift Picked Up, Put Away, Put Back: House Messes; Laundry; More House Messes
22--3 Gifts About Me: Good Listener; Try To Be A Good Mama; Try To Be A Good Wife
23--3 Gifts Found In His Word:  Grace; Mercy; Discipline
24--A Gift In A Box, A Bag, A Book:  New Smelly-Goodies from B&BW; Fresh Groceries; Solidarity & Resonance
25--3 Gifts Unexpected: Birthday Goodies from Friends; Financial Goal Met; Good Days
26--3 Gifts From Your Childhood:  Rectangle Pyrex Pan Cakes; Sparklers & Roman Candles in Grandma's Back Yard; Sitting In Front Of Grandma's Furnace on Cold Mornings

The Beauty of Slow

I've been after orderly routine since the end of August and frankly, I've grown quite tired of the chase. For whatever reason, the cleaning and cooking and teaching Bible study and helping the Hubbs and exercising and small group and discipleship class and overseeing homework and making lunches will not conform to the shape I've predetermined would be the most advantageous.

I've been sidelined by bronchitis, beset by carpal tunnel syndrome in the less dominant of my two hands, gripped with quirky tendon issues in my right hand, and benched by shoulder/neck pain. I've been to the doctor more in the last two months than in the past two years.  Hubbs has had some rough patches that felt debilitating; we're contemplating some major life-changing choices that need slow, thoughtful answers...there is much. We are not alone, I know. This quandary is as old as the hills.

And it teaches me, stubborn student, though I be. It teaches me things like, I need to stop chasing perfection; there is no routine that will not be interrupted by life; living daily needs to be about thanks and taking time to love and give grace...and blessed be that my success as a mom, wife, Christ-follower is never dependent upon the state of my laundry...

Moments of snuggles and laughter, conversations about spiritual bankruptcy without Christ and the total forgiveness He offers and having faith in who He is, and loving and giving, breaking bread and fellowship and praying and worship...these are the routine that I should be pursuing; gentle and free; not forced or rushed but organic and fluid.

A song runs through my head; heard it this morning. It goes:

Could've come like a mighty storm
With all the strength of a hurricane
You could've come like a forest fire
With the power of Heaven in Your flame

But You came like a winter snow
Quiet and soft and slow
Falling from the sky in the night
To the earth below

Could've swept in like a tidal wave

Or an ocean to ravish our hearts
You could have come through like a roaring flood
To wipe away the things we've scarred

But You came like a winter snow, yes, You did
You were quiet, You were soft and slow
Falling from the sky in the night
To the earth below

Ooh no, Your voice wasn't in a bush burning
No, Your voice wasn't in a rushing wind
It was still, it was small, it was hidden

Oh, You came like a winter snow
Quiet and soft and slow
Falling from the sky in the night
To the earth below

Falling, oh yeah, to the earth below
You came falling from the sky in the night
To the earth below

Give it a listen here. You won't be sorry. :)

Thanks for this day:

11--Three Gifts Before 9am:  Holy Spirit awakenings to prayer; Sunrise!; Newness & freshness of the morning

12--A Gift in a Sign, a Smile, a Snack:  Good days remind that God is near, always; my Kiddo's bright one when she laughs; Pumpkin spice latte

13--Three Gifts Found in Christ: Forgiveness; Transformation; Companionship

14--Three Gifts Found About In My Home:  Cozy; Clean; Safe

15--Three Gifts Inside A Closet:  Handbags!; Warm coats for cold days; Space to store linens

16--Three Gifts Found in the Dark:  Blessed rest; Quiet stillness; Kiddo snuggles & Hubbs holding me close

Practicing Joy, Giving Thanks

It's been over a year since I set my foot tentatively on the path of daily thanks. It's been a little less than that since I started sharing the lessons I'm learning on that path. I am but a beginner and there are days that the lessons seem really easy and I still muck it all up. And I have, despite my nifty smart phone-computer connected app, days upon days--nay, months--of blanks for joys unthanked; opportunities for worship skipped over. Maybe it's my propensity for checking boxes on to-do lists, but I often go back and fill in the blanks for days past. I find justification in this, for at the end of the day, is it not still continuing the discipline of thanking--of Eucharisteo? I really don't want it to be about just checking a box but about persevering to see the hand of God in my life & to thank Him for being there, for being faithful despite my ridiculous pinball mind, so easily distracted by things. 

I am inspired by this month. At the end of it, we set aside a whole day for thanks. And as much as it has become a day of turkey and pie, it's original purpose--Thanks-giving--remains. I want to purposefully, intentionally give thanks this month--all months, really, but as an spiritual exercise this year, in an effort to fix my mind on what is true, honorable, just, pure, lovely, commendable--on excellence and what is worthy of praise. I want to place my days and weeks of unthanked joys at the feet of Jesus, as an offering of thanks. 

One full day of November is past. This next is nearly there. Five each day, with an extra on God's day and an additional on the Day of Thanks, with maybe some ramblings and lessons I'm learning, starts now:

*************************************************

1--Three Gifts Inherited: Love of Words; Stubbornness Tenacity; Grandma's Dishes
2--Three Gifts Square: Pack of Fat Quarters for a Rag Rug; Enough Parchment for 2 Triangles; White Overflow Basket
3--A Gift Stacked, Stashed, Stilled: Books upon Books; Nut Meal for Cookies; Raging Hormones calmed with quiet
4--Three Gifts Found in Christ: Forgiveness...Grace, always; Patience w/ my stupidity; Holy Perseverance 
5--Three Gifts Found Close: My Husband; My Daughter; My Friends
6--Three Gifts Found Reflecting: Aging Face in my mirror; Being made into His image, one chipped piece at a time; Light reflecting off yellow trees
7--Three Gifts Fragile: Glass scoops, heirlooms from Grandma; Delicate cookies that turned out decently, made for a friend; Quiet in my man's mind
8--Three Gifts Tasted:  Good chocolate cake; hearty spaghetti; blueberry cheesecake ice cream

9--Three Gifts Flat: Stone in my garden, ready for my baby gardenia; Oklahoma; Organized desktop 

10--Three Gifts Found in Difficult People:  Growth in learning patience; complexities & history that paints & taints personality; recognition of my own fallen nature  

We Really Are All Mad Here...

I top this post with a strongly-worded meme/poster because lately, this echoes the thoughts swirling around my mind and my life. And it's also true.

There are so many places I could go with this but I will keep it personal because I can only share my own personal experience. My husband lives with depression, generalized anxiety disorder, and mild obsessive compulsive disorder. His thoughts are often unrelenting, boulders of negativity that cause him to lose (a lot of) sleep. And because of the nature of OCD, he fixates on those thoughts. I say this with absolutely no hyperbole: it can be an exhausting existence.

Let me draw my red line here and now concerning this kind of thing, however. This is not a situationally-based depression caused by sin or by disobedience. It is not caused by a host of bad choices or even one bad choice. This depression is physiological. Yes, events of life have deepened the struggle, but not caused it. Too often, the Church gets it mixed up, misdiagnosing symptom for root cause; because while depression and GAD deeply affect spirituality, the origin is not there.  That's not to say that spiritual growth can't be stunted by these issues. It surely can. But let us call a spade a spade.

As the spouse of someone who lives with these raging internal battles, it can be equally exhausting to be the unending (physical) voice of encouragement. It can be discouraging and lonely to know that there will be days in which my generally cheerful disposition feels like an unwanted guest in my home.

But like many other relationships in life, God uses marriage to sanctify us. In fact, marriage may be the one place where sanctification gets real, right quick. So many times, the Word tells me how to do it:

*Be completely humble and gentle; be patient, bearing with one another in love. Make every effort to keep the unity of the Spirit through the bond of peace. (Eph. 4:2-3)
*Starting a quarrel is like breaching a dam; so drop the matter before a dispute breaks out. (Prov. 17:14)
*Submit to one another out of reverence for Christ. (Eph. 5:21)
*Now as the church submits to Christ, so also wives should submit to their husbands in everything.(Eph. 5:24)
 ^*However, each one of you also must love his wife as he loves himself, and the wife must respect her husband. (Eph. 5:33)

Today, I confessed to my husband that I  my relatively good mood gets squelched when he's struggling with anxiety and depression. What a thing to say...I mean, really. "Listen, I know you're having a hard time with your thoughts on a day-to-day basis, but your sadness is really killin' my happy buzz..."

But I am human and I falter. And I get selfish. Now, I'm not saying my needs are unimportant. Of course they aren't. But I find, being married gives me opportunity after opportunity to lay my own needs or rights or preferences aside in favor of my husband. Considering this is the entire foundation of my faith, and the God-calling to a life of faith (Romans 8:28-30), I can't ignore a chance to be transformed (Romans 12:1-2) by the kind of love and sacrifice that is only possible with Jesus. And there's the key. With Jesus. When I start thinking about MYself, MY needs, MY desires, I get lost and frustrated and feel the isolation the most. When I let Jesus love through me, I am focused on Him and doing His work.

The struggles my husband lives with are real and they're permeating. It can be so hard for him to see the light and the joy. I mentioned, today, the idea of posting around our home visual reminders of God's provision and sovereignty and love. I likened it to Hayden's need for visual reminders. If you've been in our home and used the restroom here, you won't soon forget the visual schedules posted for "How To Use The Potty" and "How To Wash Your Hands." It's not that she doesn't know how but being so focused in on something else causes her to operate often, only on muscle memory. And she can forget steps. Those visual schedules are there to help her remember.

So why not post scripture and hymn lyrics and even slightly off-color posters emblazoned with an encouraging phrase and perhaps an expletive or two? The idea is to put in front of his face what his mind has a hard time recalling.

God commanded Israel to do this (with only slightly more holiness than what I have in mind...) when He told them, "these words that I command you today shall be on your heart.You shall teach them diligently to your children, and shall talk of them when you sit in your house, and when you walk by the way, and when you lie down, and when you rise. You shall bind them as a sign on your hand, and they shall be as frontlets between your eyes.You shall write them on the doorposts of your house and on your gates." (Deut. 6:6-8)

So I start with this meme I've posted. My Love, depression IS a lying bastard. Life WILL be brighter again and whether it's bright or gray, I'll be here, holding your hand no matter what. And God will be here, too, holding us both, giving us exactly what we need for this season.

On Hoping

Two and a half months without publishing any of the handful of posts begun does not a blogger make.  Rock-steady consistency with projects has always been an area of challenge for me.  I would rather think of this blog, however, more as trying to cultivate habit than a "project." I suppose that means that in cultivating a habit of writing, I should, ya know, write.

In my own defense against myself, I wrote things--didn't post them or polish them or really even finish them...Wait, I'm defending myself against myself, here. I digress.


Tumultuous is a neat word. It tastes and feels like of a swath of rough road; hilly, speedy, twisty. And change brings tumult. Life has been tumultuous in the time I've spent not-posting-yet-dabbling-in-writing. Life has changed in certain aspects for my little family. And we're still all mad here--maybe more so than before. But we've spent the last two and a half months chasing hope. And hope is a funny thing; not so much ha-ha funny but funny-funny.

Studied a passage in scripture recently that I really think encapsulates Hope...the kind that exists despite our nasty circumstances; the God-Hope that He means us to have; the kind that abides among Faith & Love. (And my own circumstances are incomparable to those that other families and people have experienced. I do not ever wish to diminish the severity of what others have gone through.) But I'd like to, for just a second, share what I feel God showed me about Hope.

As a deer pants for flowing streams,
    so pants my soul for you, O God.
² My soul thirsts for God, for the living God.
When shall I come and appear before God?^[b]3 My tears have been my food day and night, while they say to me all the day long,
    “Where is your God?”
⁴ These things I remember, as I pour out my soul:how I would go with the throng    and lead them in procession to the house of Godwith glad shouts and songs of praise,    a multitude keeping festival.⁵ Why are you cast down, O my soul, and why are you in turmoil within me?
Hope in God; for I shall again praise him, my salvation^[c] 6 and my God.My soul is cast down within me;
    therefore I remember youfrom the land of Jordan and of Hermon, from Mount Mizar.⁷ Deep calls to deep at the roar of your waterfalls;
all your breakers and your waves
    have gone over me.
⁸ By day the Lord commands his steadfast love, and at night his song is with me,    a prayer to the God of my life.⁹ I say to God, my rock: “Why have you forgotten me?
Why do I go mourning because of the oppression of the enemy?”
¹⁰ As with a deadly wound in my bones, my adversaries taunt me,
while they say to me all the day long,
    “Where is your God?”
¹¹ Why are you cast down, O my soul, and why are you in turmoil within me?
Hope in God; for I shall again praise him, my salvation and my God.

The psalmist speaks of a downcast soul; of a soul-thirst for God. He is desperate for relief. His cry is for relief--not from his circumstances but from his wait for God. And yet he waits. With Hope.  His Hope comes from knowing how God acted on his behalf earlier in his life. He remembers how it was when he could praise openly, with abandon. At one point, maybe his lowest, he wonders if he has been forgotten. But he ends with a directive to himself (and to me), a reminder to HOPE.

The last tumultuous two and a half months have set me and my little family panting for God. And the bitter pill to swallow with parched throats was perseverance rather than deliverance; transformation instead of the safety of complacence. But isn't that how God begins to transform us? By allowing us to endure experiences that give us the opportunity to remember what He promises in His Word; to remember His goodness despite what we can see in front of us?

Oh, these are easy words to say and easy to write. But to live them, that's the horse of a different color.  But oh, to rest in that Hope! Life is hard. There's no way around that. But I choose to live, Hoping in God, praising Him, believing that will He use my circumstances, whatever they are, for His good & His glory.

Baring All My Weakness

I once called my parents from children's camp to come pick me up, two days into the trip. I felt sad and overwhelmed at being apart from them; alone for the first time--it was the first trip my older sister didn't go on, too, since she had graduated to the camp for the next age level. For a long time, looking back, I chalked it up to emotional immaturity--the same kind that led me to spend too many days in my 4th grade year, calling home to be picked up because I "didn't feel good"; calling my parents in the middle of the night from a slumber party to come and get me; having other moments where being away from those closest to me made me feel pressed with unease, deeply longing for a return to the familiar. 

The Hubbs is on a business trip. Sounds simple enough; except that it's his first and his new company is, shall we say, far more of a presence and a force than his old. Not a bad thing. But his days have been 12 hours long and his nights have been punctuated by networking and dinners and our talk time has gotten pushed back and I've gotten impatient and down and then the being apart becomes more than just physical.

There are so many facets to this and it is too easy to label and oversimplify the obvious. For example: Yes, absence makes the heart grow fonder but when you bind yourself to someone for a lifetime, sometimes absence stretches that bond to the point of pain. Yes, what doesn't kill me will only make me stronger…that means very little and comforts nothing when you sit on your bed, unable to sleep and just ache to feel his arms around you. Yes, there are deeper issues of trust and control swirled in like unwelcome guests at a party--but how do you practice and learn discipline when sorting laundry feels like running a 5K?

Don't get me wrong, I can admit that there are some things I need to work through. But it's a tangled rat's nest of logic and reason and emotion and all of it seems both justified and unwarranted.  God uses the circumstances of my life to teach me what it means to draw my comfort from Him; to know that when I feel weak / am weak, then He is strong. I just wish the lesson would sink in. He keeps holding me to the fire, dross stubbornly clinging to my spirit and I wish it would just burn away so I can rest in His peace and move on.

It's funny how you grow up and one day you're in your thirties--how the hell did that happen? And you still feel like an immature 11-year old at being left alone.  I just feel like a weak fool. But it keeps coming back to my heart, this idea of our weakness and God's strength. His strength is perfected in my weakness. I have a weakness. And the remedy is to cling to Him who is strong; who can make me strong because I just need to be real and open about my weakness.  He who knows my heart knows anyway. Why do I feel like I need to put on a brave face?  

I'm not going to stuff how much I hate being apart from my husband. I'm not going to "try to do better." I will admit that I am weak in this. But I trust that God will make me strong because I just can't do it alone. I cannot make it through the day on my own power. I need just enough strength for each step, Jesus. And You have that in abundance--grace, too. Your grace is abundant for me. It's a good thing, too, because without those, I'm a mess. 

None of this is to suggest that I'm just going to curl up in a ball underneath my bedspread and wallow in self-pity until Hubbs is back. I will still take Kiddo to school and therapy and will still do laundry and dishes and cook--well…let's not go too far. :)  I will spend time with friends. I won't feed my sadness and succumb to waves of despair that drag me out into a sea of debilitating depression. I will stand in the waves in the strength of my Savior and my God. Because His strength is firm and strong and can withstand those waves. 

Having "proper perspective" doesn't always make us FEEL better. Sometimes, it's enough to know that He knows that we feel like crap and will hold us through it.