Life is Heavy

I read an article the other day about a father who was being charged with murder by way of neglect. He had been home alone with his two daughters, ages 2 and 3, when he heard a loud noise come from their room. Rather than investigate said noise and make sure his daughters were okay, he stayed in his comfortable position. On the toilet. #2. 

It wasn't until many minutes later that he checked on his daughters and found them both dead, suffocated by the weight of a dresser that had fallen upon them. 

I was randomly thinking of that story this morning. For one, it breaks my heart. I imagined what it may have been like for those two helpless girls. What kinds of things were going through their minds as they passed from life to death? One thought that had to have crossed their minds was,

"Daddy will come through that door at any second and rescue us!"

I just can't imagine a scenario where they wouldn't have been waiting for their father to come and lift the weight of the dresser so they could return to their playing. 

As all these thoughts were scrambling through my brain, it reminded me of what it feels like to live without Christ. 

I have. I've tried to do things on my own. I sometimes jokingly refer to my "rebel years" as the times when I drank and shoplifted and played with figurative fire. 

The behavior was secondary. What was going on in my mind and heart was a curiosity that figured there was so much more than "just living for God". 

Sure it seemed as though I had the freedom to do whatever, whenever. But I had never felt less free. I was chained to pleasing my friends and showing them that I could be as tough and as careless. In actuality, I was being suffocated. I was slowly dying beneath the weight of all the junk the world has to offer. 

But this post is not about my suffocation. It is about my rescue. 

I have a Father who did come for me. 

When I compare what it's like to do life with God versus doing life without Him, the closest analogy I can think of is that feeling of suffocating. Striving to breathe while it only gets more difficult to do so. Gasping for any tiny breath to fill up the lungs for just one more second. 

Life is heavy. It can suffocate in a moment or throughout a lifetime. There is no shortage of baggage that adds to the weight: Death. Sickness. Poverty. Disappointment. Depression. Doubt. Heartbreak. Failure. Loss. Perfectionism.

There is a very real struggle going on. 

It only takes one "Yes" to God and He bounds in at the chance to lift the weight of all that seeks to suffocate us. He is a Father who can be trusted to save. He aches to save. 

In Him alone is there hope, and help, and healing. 

Safety in Darkness

Jonas' new favorite thing to do is to climb up onto his big brother's toddler bed. Maybe it is because it has a cool red blanket strewn on top of it in order to create a fort-like atmosphere. Maybe it is because Finn's bed is more fun to bounce upon. Maybe it is because he has been told over and over again NOT to do it. Judging from his mischievous smile when he gets caught, I think it may be the latter.

Last night, I followed him into the room and shadowed him as he climbed up on the bed for like, the 15th time that day. Since I am battling a nasty sore throat and fever, I just did not have the energy to lift him off again. So I joined him. I laid down in the bed with him, and if he got too close to the edge, I mustered the power to steady him.

It wasn't too long before Finn joined us. To a three year old, a situation like this screams, "PARTY IN MY BED!!!!!" Finn laughingly turned on the noise machine and turned off the light, delighting in the fact that we were having a 'sleeping party'.

Unsurprisingly, Jonas was not a fan of this new twist. The lights had been shut off for him and the fun had stopped. I could feel him in the dark grappling to find his balance because he could know longer see where he was. I felt him, ever so slowly, sidle over to me. He touched my face and my arms to make sure it was me, and then he clung to me. I spoke to him as he searched and told him he was okay.

I enjoyed every second of the snuggles, however brief they were. Because 5 seconds later, Finn bounded to the light switch again and turned the lights back on. Just like that, Jonas started scooting further away from me again. He felt safe with the light back on and so he went back to doing whatever he wanted.

Until once again, Finn hysterically shuts the light off and we are basked in darkness. Then the searching and grasping for my arm and face resumed.

This hilarity ensued for a good five minutes before mommy regained the strength to put an end to the madness.

In the light, Jonas giggled and played and made daring attempts to fly past me off of the bed. In the darkness, Jonas cuddled and clung closely to whatever part of me he could find.

And I'm laying there thinking, isn't that what we too often do with God?

When the light is on and we can see where we're going, when things are rosy and sunshiny and going our way, we edge away from Him by pursuing our own desires or whatever is making us happy and fulfilling our needs in that moment.

But when the lights go out on us, what then? We suddenly feel alone and afraid. We struggle through the darkness to find any piece of Him that we can. When we find Him, we hold on tight to His love, and strength, and peace. We know we are safe with Him in the dark.

But oh….to know that it is safe with Him in the light as well. To know that the best place to be on the brightest days of our lives is STILL right by His side, clinging to His hand.

When we remain by His side, we do not need to be afraid that the light around us might suddenly go dark.
When we remain by His side, we don't waste time trying to struggle in the darkness by ourselves.
When we remain by His side, we get to experience the brightest highs and the darkest lows with the One who loves us stronger and knows us better than we could ever imagine.

There's no safer place than that.

"For anyone out there who doesn't know where you're going, anyone groping in the dark, Here's what: Trust in God. Lean on your God." Isaiah 50:10 (MSG)

"'Do not fear, for I have redeemed you; I have called you by name; you are Mine! When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; And through the rivers, they will not overflow you. When you walk through the fire, you will not be scorched, nor will the flame burn you. For I am the Lord your God, The Holy One of Israel, your Savior; I have given Egypt as your ransom, Cush and Seba in your place. Since you are precious in my sight, Since you are honored and I love you, I will give other men in your place and other peoples in exchange for your life. Do not fear, for I am with you." Isaiah 43:1-5 (NASB)


"There are many out there taking other paths, choosing other goals, and trying to get you to go along with them. I've warned you of them many times; sadly, I'm having to do it again. All they want is easy street. They hate Christ's Cross. But easy street is a dead-end street. Those who live there make their bellies their gods; belches are their praise; all they can think of is their appetites. But there's far more to life for us. We're citizens of high heaven!" Philippians 3: 18-20 (MSG)

Beautifully Messy

My best friend and her kids came over for a play date yesterday, so I cleaned. As I was scrubbing the bathroom floor, I had to ask myself: "Why am I cleaning? Why do I care?"

After all, Chanelle knows that I am not Mrs. Clean. I'm aware that she knows me well enough to know that I could care less if there are a handful of crumbs left over on my table from breakfast or smudgy splotches on the windows from where my boys love to stand and press their faces against the glass.

Not only that, but she also lived with me for years and saw firsthand how I rarely even noticed if something was dusty and that I never owned a vacuum cleaner. She was the one who taught me how to do laundry our freshman year of college because I had forgotten my mom's tutorial. 

She knows me. So why did I care? Why did I scrub?

The best I can come up with is that I wanted her to think, "Wow, Gretchen really has this wife and mom thing down. She makes it look easy! She's a natural!"

Or....something like that. 

I wanted to appear to have it all together, so I could look like a rousing success story, an accomplished woman. 

All of this, for someone who knows me better than almost anyone. All of this, for someone who already knows I am a good wife and mother. All of this, for someone who I know does NOT care about my house because she just wants conversation with me and to watch our kids play together. 

The irony of this story lies in the fact that I totally forgot to clean up the basement, which is typically the messiest room of the house anyway. And where is the very first place the kids want to play?

The basement. Where the cushions are off the sofa from where Matt took his Sunday afternoon nap. Where cars and trains are strewn on the floor. Where old picture albums I had been paging through sit on top of a chair and our computer desk is covered with clothes we've been meaning to give away. The basement. 

I was thinking of all this today and again how silly it was. But more than the silly factor of it all, it hit me how this is exactly what we tend to do with ourselves. 

When we head out into the world, we neatly tuck everything into its proper place and scrub away the dirt so we glean with promise and minimize the things that others could criticize. But there lies below a basement where the mess dwells. 

The appearance seems just right, but look a little closer. There are pieces of ourselves that we hide away, whether through shame or guilt or embarrassment, that cannot stay hidden forever. We can gloss and floss ourselves to a sheeny perfection, but the mess remains. 

The insecurity. The anxiety. The sadness. The hurt. The loss. The anger. The questions. The doubt. The wound. 

When I read books or watch movies, there is something very off-putting to me when the protagonist is too perfect. I have read books before where I am actually rooting for the main character to fail a little bit. It is annoying to me when a fictional character handles every situation perfectly...especially in Christian books. 

My favorite all-time character is Anne Shirley. She is smart and passionate and savvy and strong. These are wonderful traits. She also has a quick temper and is kind of fruit loops sometimes. These are her messes. Anne Shirley is someone I can relate to because she is so beautifully messy. Give me a messy human over a perfect one any day (unless that perfect one is Jesus. Then give me Jesus).

I think this is one of the reasons I pursued counseling as a profession. I love peoples's messes. I long to tell them they are not alone in their messes but that there is help and hope and healing greater than they've ever dreamed. 

There is a Love that knows and loves every inch of our mess (even that part that tries to appear to have it all together).

All we need to do is to open wide our basement doors and give access to the mess.

And when it comes to others' messes, let's offer grace abundantly to give people some space to work through it. Let's give them so much grace that they know they don't have to have it all together.

While you're at it, be a gem and grab a broom to sweep up that cobweb in the corner.