We were exactly in the middle of our month long missions trip to South Africa. I, along with a few others, were randomly selected to go and speak at a women's prison just outside of Cape Town. We drove through the imposing gates of the prison and as we walked inside, steel door after steel door closed loudly behind us, locking us into the dreary building.
We started our time with worship. None of us had a guitar or piano, but we had a kickin' boombox and a cd. We got through the first song, no problem. We may have gotten through the second song as well, I cannot remember; the details have gotten a little foggy in the last ten years. Another song started playing; it was "You Raise Me Up", which was at it's peak of popularity.
I will never forget the way that these ladies joined in. Their faces shone with encouragement as they sang the words of this song.
And then, the cd started skipping. Our kickin' boombox was kicking it towards a slow death. I started praying that the song would start working. It was easy to see this song was ministering to these women and I was totally overwhelmed and intimidated at the thoughts of what could happen if we upset them or let them down. I was naive.
The song stopped playing entirely. I looked around the room with frightened eyes for one brief moment until...
the women kept right on singing. They were not going to let a boombox dinosaur ruin the moment that they were having with the song.
The singing filled the room and each face only became more beautiful.
It was a holy moment.
The ladies were in unfortunate circumstances in their lives. Truly, none of them were exactly where they desired to be. They had been met with hardship and mistakes and loneliness. Yet, they kept singing.
It reminds me of King David and his precious Psalms. There are plenty of psalms that were written in the midst of his life's pain. In the persecution, David wrote and sang. In the rejection, David wrote and sang. In his sin and shame, David wrote and sang.
His psalms speak still today that God can be found at the rock bottom of our circumstances. Each melancholy psalm pours forth its pain and then directs its gaze instead on the beauty and sovereignty of the Lord.
David too, kept singing. He let the song in his heart carry him through the storm directly into the presence of God.
Psalm 4: David begins with, "How long, exalted men, will my honor be insulted? How long will you love what is worthless and pursue a lie?" (v 2) and he ends with "You have put more joy in my heart than they have when their grain and new wine abound. I will both lie down and sleep in peace, for you alone, Lord, make me live in safety." (vv 7-8)
Psalm 5: David begins, "Listen to my words, Lord; consider my sighing. Pay attention to my cry, my King and my God, for I pray to you." (v 1) and ends, "But let all who take refuge in you rejoice; let them shout for joy forever. May You shelter them, and may those who love Your name boast about You. For You, Lord, bless the righteous one; You surround him with favor like a shield." ( vv 11-12)
Psalm 6: David begins, "Lord, do not rebuke me in Your anger; do not disciplines me in Your wrath. Be gracious to me, Lord, for I am weak; heal me, Lord, for my bones are shaking; my whole being is shaken with terror. And You, Lord - how long?" (vv 1-3) and he ends with, "The Lord has heard my plea for help; the Lord accepts my prayer." (v 9).
These are just three examples from a single page of Scripture. Each psalm ends in hope. David and the other psalmists poured out their prayers, focused on God's goodness, and found their burdens lifted (except psalm 88, which ends on a painful note. But that's another blog...)
Sometimes the song can speak the words that we cannot.
When we were pregnant with Ezra and had received the report that he may have chromosomal abnormalities, we had to wait until we could follow up on that report. It was a vicious five days of waiting and wondering.
During those moments when the fear tried to choke me, I would sit at our piano and play the only song that would bring me comfort: "Good, Good Father". I would sing through tears streaming down my face and dwell on His goodness. There, sitting at the piano and focused on Him, I could truly accept whatever fate awaited my precious baby.
I kept singing. It was all that I could do.
When your circumstances are not all that you wish they were, keep singing.
When pressures are pushing in at you from every side, keep singing.
When your heart is broken and battered, keep singing.
When anxieties threaten to tear you apart on the inside, keep singing.
When the loneliness is stifling, keep singing.
When you cannot do anything else, keep singing.
In the singing, you will find Him.
Showing posts with label Ezra. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Ezra. Show all posts
Monday, December 5, 2016
Tuesday, October 18, 2016
Ezra's Birth Story
With each of my boys, one way I have loved celebrating their first birthdays is by remembering and documenting their birth stories.
I feel a little sheepish because I don't remember a ton of details from Ezra's birth. It was so uncomplicated that I have not told and retold the story dozens of times in the last year.
Finn's birth story was such a surprise, and Jonas' had so many complications; I told those over and over again.
Ezra's, in so many words, was contractions, active labor, birth. The end.
Yet as I have paused to really think through those days, there are so many little things hiding beneath the surface of those obvious details.
For one thing, he was my first baby that made me see my due date come...and go. As my due date was October 16 and Finn and Jonas had each come a few days early, I was hopeful from the very beginning that he would be born on the 13th. That is the anniversary of my brother's death, and I thought it would be super cool to redeem that date a little.
The 13th came and went. So did the 14th, 15th, and 16th. Ugh, and the 17th.
For about three nights before he came, I was up often in the middle of the night with contractions. Each night they got a little stronger and I would wake up so hopeful that the day had come! Yet they died down about the same time the sun came up. We had our 40 week checkup on Friday, October 16 and I was only dilated to a 1.5. This was after a couple nights of contractions. I was fairly discouraged, but my doctor said she thought I may not make it through the weekend. But grudgingly, I had to set up another checkup for 41 weeks...just in case.
The night of the 17th they were particularly strong. By the time it was time to get up for the day, I was gripping my pillow through the contractions and was having a difficult time talking through them. It was a Sunday morning. I remember being so thankful that Matt had someone to cover for him at church that morning, as I did not think I could manage the contractions and parenting our two young boys through the morning hours.
I was planning to ride the contractions out at home for a few more hours, but my mom convinced me to at least call the doctor and tell her what was happening. Her nurse called back and let me know that I should probably come in.
Walking into the building, I had to stop several times as contractions hit. They were definitely strong, and I was so hopeful that they were productive and that we would not get sent right back home.
When they checked me at the hospital, I was dilated to a 6 - HALLELUJAH!!!
They checked me in, and I got fairly comfortable, and I got my sweet, sweet epidural. One of my prayers for this birth was to have excellent nurses and to have a doctor in the room upon birth. I had learned with Jonas how vital a great nurse can be. God answered my prayer, and then some. We had the most amazing nurse named Molly, who was attentive and fun and communicative. She was exactly what I needed.
After a few hours of my contractions amping up and then relaxing, they decided to give me a dose of pitocin to see if they could move it along a bit. Within the next hour, I was ready to push. And about an hour after that, sweet Ezra Adam made his appearance at 4:08 p.m. Not only was there a doctor in the room, but a doctor and a student and 3 or 4 nurses. We were more than cared for.
Recovery was easy, especially in comparison to my others boys. I was up walking around that evening. This turned out to be a huge blessing; Matt's mom, who was watching Finn and Jonas, had not been feeling well. Since she is a warrior, she watched them without complaining. Yet we knew at that time that something more was going on. So Matt made himself more available to help her with the big boys, and I bonded with Ezra.
From the moment I got home, I was able to dive right in and keep things running. The adjustment to having three kids was fairly smooth, simply because I felt fine for the most part.
Ezra became and remained my sweet cuddle bug; he loved to be held. It was difficult to put him down sometimes!
I look back at the past year and everything that God has seen us through. There are many sweet memories, and many painful ones. Ezra came into this complicated world in an uncomplicated way. His name means "Help" and he is a reminder that God always gives us the help we need when we need it. He is a reminder, always, of God's faithfulness and goodness.
Monday, September 19, 2016
When Life Barks at You
Ezra fell down the stairs yesterday.
I heard him crying as I was changing out of my church clothes and in a moment of panic, wondered if I had forgotten to shut the door to the basement after laying Jonas down for a nap.
Coming around the corner into the kitchen and realizing that the door was indeed open was one of the scariest moments of my life.
I ran. I ran so fast that I don't remember how I reached him. I only remember the way I felt. I picked him up and held him close and checked him all over.
I was shaking and crying and terrified.
He was fine. Truly, I'm not sure how, but he was and is completely fine.
I, on the other hand, remained a mess. I ripped myself apart with thoughts of my incompetency as a mother. I felt like the worst mom in the world, negligent and forgetful and guilty.
The only counselor I ever saw pinpointed me from the very beginning: "You are way too hard on yourself, Gretchen." This was one of those moments. I curled into myself and fixated on my failure.
I felt sick all afternoon. The "what-if's" and "what-could-have-been's" terrorized me. I allowed them to. Logically, I knew that Ezra was okay. I knew that he was safe and healthy and perfectly perfect. Yet I was allowing my thoughts to reek complete havoc on my peace.
Then there came a moment of decision for me. I was watching a video of our worship experience yesterday morning at church. The worship that day was powerful, anointed, and broke some chains off of me. As I re-experienced that moment via video, one of the lyrics jumped out at me: "You rescued me so I could stand and sing, I am a child of God".
Rescue. I knew that God had rescued my boy, again. I knew that with my whole being. I just didn't know why. Then, in that moment, it hit me. God is rescuing Ezra for Himself and some greater purpose that I cannot yet fathom. Something in me just knows it. I don't need to fear losing a boy that God seems intent to rescue.
Even in my failure, I cannot break what God intends to keep whole.
I knew then that I had a choice to make. I could keep ruminating on what could have happened, or what could happen the next time I forget to do something important. I could tie myself up in knots with question after question, the worst case scenarios building a grim future for my life.
Or I could choose to see God's mercy in the situation. I could see His saving hand and pour out my gratitude to Him. I could laugh in wonder at the amazing protection that God has ordered for my precocious Ezra. That was a moment of distinction for me:
Choosing to see God's protection in my failure.
Choosing to see God's protection, and not my failure.
Choosing to see God's protection.
And then thanking Him with all I have.
A couple of nights ago, we were visiting my aunt and uncle who live on a beautiful piece of land in Canton. They have an adorable golden retriever named Jack, who is still quite puppy-like in his behavior. Jack is sweet and energetic and BIG. My boys love dogs, but they are not used to dogs that big. So when Jack bounced around with them, barking, they got scared. They ran. Jack, who thought they were playing, ran after them. This caused terrified screams and cries from their cute little faces.
There was one time in particular that Finn was running from Jack, screaming. Matt called out to him, "Finn! Finn! Just run to me!" Matt knew that if Finn would run to him, then he would be able to protect him. He would handle the dog and keep Finn safe. When Finn kept running farther and faster away, it was difficult for Matt to do anything. He needed Finn close to protect him.
However, Finn couldn't hear his daddy calling. The dog was too close and the barking was too loud. Those teeth were too big and the situation was too scary. So he cried and screamed, powerless to do much else.
This was such a vivid example to me of how God responds to us in the barking chaos of our lives. When circumstances are overwhelming, He calls out to us to come close, to draw near. He wants to enclose us in the shadow of His wing so that He can better protect us. Yet sometimes the noise and the size of our circumstances just drowns out the voice of our Father and Protector. In our fear, we end up running further away from Him Who alone can help us.
Ezra falling down the stairs was life barking at me. Barking at me about my greatest fears and my most intimate failures.
When I drew close through prayer, it was then that God could speak the words that would restore my peace and dismantle my anxiety. I could have spent many days tied up in knots and broken over what almost happened. I know myself enough to know that I could have spiraled into a hole of fear and guilt.
God is speaking. He is always speaking. I choose to stay close to Him so I can hear Him above everything else and so that He can handle the noisy dogs of life for me. Dogs chase and bark, but God draws and whispers. Dogs will demand our attention but God will invite it.
It takes desire and true intention to focus on God over the chaos of our circumstances. But when we do, we will find a Father willing and capable to protect.
I heard him crying as I was changing out of my church clothes and in a moment of panic, wondered if I had forgotten to shut the door to the basement after laying Jonas down for a nap.
Coming around the corner into the kitchen and realizing that the door was indeed open was one of the scariest moments of my life.
I ran. I ran so fast that I don't remember how I reached him. I only remember the way I felt. I picked him up and held him close and checked him all over.
I was shaking and crying and terrified.
He was fine. Truly, I'm not sure how, but he was and is completely fine.
I, on the other hand, remained a mess. I ripped myself apart with thoughts of my incompetency as a mother. I felt like the worst mom in the world, negligent and forgetful and guilty.
The only counselor I ever saw pinpointed me from the very beginning: "You are way too hard on yourself, Gretchen." This was one of those moments. I curled into myself and fixated on my failure.
I felt sick all afternoon. The "what-if's" and "what-could-have-been's" terrorized me. I allowed them to. Logically, I knew that Ezra was okay. I knew that he was safe and healthy and perfectly perfect. Yet I was allowing my thoughts to reek complete havoc on my peace.
Then there came a moment of decision for me. I was watching a video of our worship experience yesterday morning at church. The worship that day was powerful, anointed, and broke some chains off of me. As I re-experienced that moment via video, one of the lyrics jumped out at me: "You rescued me so I could stand and sing, I am a child of God".
Rescue. I knew that God had rescued my boy, again. I knew that with my whole being. I just didn't know why. Then, in that moment, it hit me. God is rescuing Ezra for Himself and some greater purpose that I cannot yet fathom. Something in me just knows it. I don't need to fear losing a boy that God seems intent to rescue.
Even in my failure, I cannot break what God intends to keep whole.
I knew then that I had a choice to make. I could keep ruminating on what could have happened, or what could happen the next time I forget to do something important. I could tie myself up in knots with question after question, the worst case scenarios building a grim future for my life.
Or I could choose to see God's mercy in the situation. I could see His saving hand and pour out my gratitude to Him. I could laugh in wonder at the amazing protection that God has ordered for my precocious Ezra. That was a moment of distinction for me:
Choosing to see God's protection in my failure.
Choosing to see God's protection, and not my failure.
Choosing to see God's protection.
And then thanking Him with all I have.
A couple of nights ago, we were visiting my aunt and uncle who live on a beautiful piece of land in Canton. They have an adorable golden retriever named Jack, who is still quite puppy-like in his behavior. Jack is sweet and energetic and BIG. My boys love dogs, but they are not used to dogs that big. So when Jack bounced around with them, barking, they got scared. They ran. Jack, who thought they were playing, ran after them. This caused terrified screams and cries from their cute little faces.
There was one time in particular that Finn was running from Jack, screaming. Matt called out to him, "Finn! Finn! Just run to me!" Matt knew that if Finn would run to him, then he would be able to protect him. He would handle the dog and keep Finn safe. When Finn kept running farther and faster away, it was difficult for Matt to do anything. He needed Finn close to protect him.
However, Finn couldn't hear his daddy calling. The dog was too close and the barking was too loud. Those teeth were too big and the situation was too scary. So he cried and screamed, powerless to do much else.
This was such a vivid example to me of how God responds to us in the barking chaos of our lives. When circumstances are overwhelming, He calls out to us to come close, to draw near. He wants to enclose us in the shadow of His wing so that He can better protect us. Yet sometimes the noise and the size of our circumstances just drowns out the voice of our Father and Protector. In our fear, we end up running further away from Him Who alone can help us.
Ezra falling down the stairs was life barking at me. Barking at me about my greatest fears and my most intimate failures.
When I drew close through prayer, it was then that God could speak the words that would restore my peace and dismantle my anxiety. I could have spent many days tied up in knots and broken over what almost happened. I know myself enough to know that I could have spiraled into a hole of fear and guilt.
God is speaking. He is always speaking. I choose to stay close to Him so I can hear Him above everything else and so that He can handle the noisy dogs of life for me. Dogs chase and bark, but God draws and whispers. Dogs will demand our attention but God will invite it.
It takes desire and true intention to focus on God over the chaos of our circumstances. But when we do, we will find a Father willing and capable to protect.
Sunday, August 28, 2016
Faith is a Shield - Armor of God
I was not prepared for how the week of faith would test me. This is otherwise known as the week of Ezra and the nickel.
God is faithful. I know that and I think that most of the time I live it. Yet there are those times I live defeated and broken. There are times that I do not live as though I know God is faithful. Mercifully, that does not affect His faithfulness. It simply affects my victory stance.
Hebrews 11:1 lays out faith for us as so: "Now faith is the reality of what is hoped for, the proof of what is not seen".
Those words - reality and proof - speak of certainty. Faith is certainty in God. It is confidence in God's promises despite circumstances or consequences. It persists in trusting God.
"Faith is acting like it is so, even when it is not so, so that it might be so, simply because God said so." - Shirer
A simplified way of looking at it is faith = trust. Faith and trust both begin in the heart, but they are both proven in action. They are shown in obedience.
"Faith is acting like God is telling the truth...it is the process of adapting your behavior, your decisions, and ultimately, your whole lifestyle so that it accords with what God has asked you to do - without needing to see the evidence that it will all work out in the end...The act of faith is what becomes a shield of protection to guard against the enemy's attacks" - P. Shirer.
It was 3 days before I taught on faith that my sweet monkey boy Ezra decided a nickel looked tasty to eat. With a nickel lodged in his throat, we drove him the ER and waited for 4 hours. I held him through the night as they admitted us, as that was the only time he would really rest. I waited the next morning as doctors changed shifts and no one could fit the surgery into his schedule. I clung to him with tears trickling down my face, out of fear and sheer exhaustion, and listened to the surgeon explain the risks. I handed him over to the nurse so they could anesthetize him.
In that awful, scary moment, I felt God speak to me about faith.
I could have walked around the entire hospital or called everyone in my phone and told them how fantastic the doctors were. I could have gotten on the speaker system and lauded their abilities. I could have talked myself hoarse about my belief in their knowledge and education.
But if in that moment, I chose not to hand my son over to them, I never really believed in them at all. My faith in the doctor and nurses was proven when I gave them my son.
I knew that I needed to hand Ezra over to them because their abilities to help him far exceeded anything that I could do.
They said the nickel had to come out, so I believed them.
They said they had to put him under to get it, so I let them.
They said I couldn't go with him, so I had to let him go.
So it is with God. If we never hand our mess over to Him to deal with and allow Him to work out what needs to be worked out in our lives, do we really trust Him? Do we really believe Him? Do we really have the faith in Him that we profess?
Paul chose to describe faith as a shield. Shields are meant to protect us and act as a covering for us. That begs the question, what is faith meant to protect us from?
Paul says faith protects us from flaming arrows.
"In addition to all, taking up the shield of faith with which you will be able to extinguish all the flaming arrows of the evil one" - Ephesians 6:16
You might be thinking, "Phew. It's been awhile since I've seen a flaming arrow."
It was revelatory to me when Priscilla Shirer pointed out that in Roman times, flaming arrows were not necessarily meant to take out an enemy. When someone was shooting a flaming arrow, it was meant to be a distraction from the real battle at hand. The intent was to get the other side so busy putting out those fires that they were disabled from fighting and vulnerable to attack.
Your enemy wants to distract you from the real battle. He wants to take your attention away from his strategy of war and he's relentless in the ways he will use to do it.
So, what's distracting you?
Arrows of condemnation? "You're always going to struggle with that sin and shame"
Jealousy? "You'll never be as pretty or talented as she is"
Insecurity? "Nobody wants you and you have nothing to offer"
Worry? "You're going to be sucked under that mess"
Sadness? "There's something wrong with you"
Doubt? "God doesn't love you, He just puts up with you"
There's a weapon for that.
This is where faith goes to work. As Shirer says, "We need to give our faith a job". Faith extinguishes flaming arrows, we are told.
Holding up the shield of faith renders Satan powerless. Trusting God is who He says He is and will do what He promised to do protects you from every single flaming arrow that Satan wants to use to distract you.
"If you want to see insecurity quelled, doubts suppressed, fears quieted, hate overpowered, or intimidation assuaged, move forward in obedience. In faith" - Shirer
Condemnation tries to get us to look at our sin. Jealousy tries to get us to look at others. Insecurity tries to get us to look at ourselves and all we lack. Worry tries to get us to look at our circumstances.
Faith looks at God. Faith sees His power and His goodness and His overcoming love for us.
And that's what makes us able to step out in action.
"If you are struggling to move forward in obedience to God, you do not need bigger faith. You just need to realize how big your God is. The more faithful and strong you believe Him to be, the more wiling you will be to depend on Him. Your level of faith will always be tied to your perception of God...you don't need more faith; you need a more comprehensive and accurate view of the faithfulness of your God" - Shirer
Rejoice, dear friends! Our shield of faith means that there is nothing with which Satan can come at us. Faith shields, protects, covers us - every day, every situation.
God is faithful. I know that and I think that most of the time I live it. Yet there are those times I live defeated and broken. There are times that I do not live as though I know God is faithful. Mercifully, that does not affect His faithfulness. It simply affects my victory stance.
Hebrews 11:1 lays out faith for us as so: "Now faith is the reality of what is hoped for, the proof of what is not seen".
Those words - reality and proof - speak of certainty. Faith is certainty in God. It is confidence in God's promises despite circumstances or consequences. It persists in trusting God.
"Faith is acting like it is so, even when it is not so, so that it might be so, simply because God said so." - Shirer
A simplified way of looking at it is faith = trust. Faith and trust both begin in the heart, but they are both proven in action. They are shown in obedience.
"Faith is acting like God is telling the truth...it is the process of adapting your behavior, your decisions, and ultimately, your whole lifestyle so that it accords with what God has asked you to do - without needing to see the evidence that it will all work out in the end...The act of faith is what becomes a shield of protection to guard against the enemy's attacks" - P. Shirer.
It was 3 days before I taught on faith that my sweet monkey boy Ezra decided a nickel looked tasty to eat. With a nickel lodged in his throat, we drove him the ER and waited for 4 hours. I held him through the night as they admitted us, as that was the only time he would really rest. I waited the next morning as doctors changed shifts and no one could fit the surgery into his schedule. I clung to him with tears trickling down my face, out of fear and sheer exhaustion, and listened to the surgeon explain the risks. I handed him over to the nurse so they could anesthetize him.
In that awful, scary moment, I felt God speak to me about faith.
I could have walked around the entire hospital or called everyone in my phone and told them how fantastic the doctors were. I could have gotten on the speaker system and lauded their abilities. I could have talked myself hoarse about my belief in their knowledge and education.
But if in that moment, I chose not to hand my son over to them, I never really believed in them at all. My faith in the doctor and nurses was proven when I gave them my son.
I knew that I needed to hand Ezra over to them because their abilities to help him far exceeded anything that I could do.
They said the nickel had to come out, so I believed them.
They said they had to put him under to get it, so I let them.
They said I couldn't go with him, so I had to let him go.
So it is with God. If we never hand our mess over to Him to deal with and allow Him to work out what needs to be worked out in our lives, do we really trust Him? Do we really believe Him? Do we really have the faith in Him that we profess?
Paul chose to describe faith as a shield. Shields are meant to protect us and act as a covering for us. That begs the question, what is faith meant to protect us from?
Paul says faith protects us from flaming arrows.
"In addition to all, taking up the shield of faith with which you will be able to extinguish all the flaming arrows of the evil one" - Ephesians 6:16
You might be thinking, "Phew. It's been awhile since I've seen a flaming arrow."
It was revelatory to me when Priscilla Shirer pointed out that in Roman times, flaming arrows were not necessarily meant to take out an enemy. When someone was shooting a flaming arrow, it was meant to be a distraction from the real battle at hand. The intent was to get the other side so busy putting out those fires that they were disabled from fighting and vulnerable to attack.
Your enemy wants to distract you from the real battle. He wants to take your attention away from his strategy of war and he's relentless in the ways he will use to do it.
So, what's distracting you?
Arrows of condemnation? "You're always going to struggle with that sin and shame"
Jealousy? "You'll never be as pretty or talented as she is"
Insecurity? "Nobody wants you and you have nothing to offer"
Worry? "You're going to be sucked under that mess"
Sadness? "There's something wrong with you"
Doubt? "God doesn't love you, He just puts up with you"
There's a weapon for that.
This is where faith goes to work. As Shirer says, "We need to give our faith a job". Faith extinguishes flaming arrows, we are told.
Holding up the shield of faith renders Satan powerless. Trusting God is who He says He is and will do what He promised to do protects you from every single flaming arrow that Satan wants to use to distract you.
"If you want to see insecurity quelled, doubts suppressed, fears quieted, hate overpowered, or intimidation assuaged, move forward in obedience. In faith" - Shirer
Condemnation tries to get us to look at our sin. Jealousy tries to get us to look at others. Insecurity tries to get us to look at ourselves and all we lack. Worry tries to get us to look at our circumstances.
Faith looks at God. Faith sees His power and His goodness and His overcoming love for us.
And that's what makes us able to step out in action.
"If you are struggling to move forward in obedience to God, you do not need bigger faith. You just need to realize how big your God is. The more faithful and strong you believe Him to be, the more wiling you will be to depend on Him. Your level of faith will always be tied to your perception of God...you don't need more faith; you need a more comprehensive and accurate view of the faithfulness of your God" - Shirer
Rejoice, dear friends! Our shield of faith means that there is nothing with which Satan can come at us. Faith shields, protects, covers us - every day, every situation.
Wednesday, April 6, 2016
How to See Others
We all feel a little invisible from time to time. Whether we're drowning in schoolwork or diapers or meetings, sometimes the things that we love and work hard for are the very same things that cause us to feel a little erased.
We can be in a crowd of thousands and still not feel seen.
Encouragement is an act of seeing others.
I used to be afraid to encourage others. It felt uncomfortable and awkward. I would see all of these wonderful, amazing things about other people, but would not speak it out. It felt like risking too much to speak it out; it exposed my inner world in a way that made me feel too vulnerable.
The older I get and the more I go through my own seasons of feeling invisible, the more I realize the absolute necessity of encouragement. Encouragement is a breath of fresh air, a hand lifting another up, and a salve for a hurting soul. The right word at the right time can make all the difference.
I have come to know the truth that when I see something awesome in another person, it is not mine to withhold, but a gift to give.
"Watch the way you talk. Let nothing foul or dirty come out of your mouth. Say only what helps, each word a gift." - Ephesians 4:29
When I see something great in someone else but choose to withhold it, it only makes me feel smaller. It makes me pick myself apart more, not less.
But when I speak it, it expands my ability to love and be loved. The more I do it, the easier it becomes.
"So then, we must pursue what promotes peace and what builds up one another." - Romans 14:19
My boys are learning the art of encouragement and it can get pretty hilarious at times! So hilarious in fact, that they serve as excellent examples of encouragement that doesn't exactly encourage.
The other day Finn said to me, "Mommy, you're the prettiest girl...in our family."
I laughed at his sweetness and said, "I'm the only girl in our family!" He just shrugged his shoulders. His heart was in the right place, but the encouragement fell a little short. It was honest and well-intentioned, maybe a little too honest? It was kind, but didn't exactly help me feel special. I believe true encouragement calls out something specific in another person. It recognizes gifts and goodness that God put into a person, and for a moment it is seeing a person through God's perspective, with all of the hope and purpose and love with which He packaged them.
Now Jonas, my little sweetheart in every sense, is a natural encourager. It is a gifting I already see growing in him. Any time I give him a compliment, he shoots it right back to me. This is a daily occurrence in our home:
"Jonas, you're the best boy in the whole world!" (I say this to all my boys...sssssh!) And without fail, Jonas smiles back, "You're best boy in the whole world too, Mommy!"
Uhhhh, thanks?! Encouragement like this rings a little insincere. It is spouted off quickly with little thought or intention. It can almost make the receiver feel like the person saying it doesn't really know her at all.
Then there's Ezra. He's a baby, so he doesn't talk yet :) . But for example's sake, he doesn't encourage others at all. Every positive thing about other people is met by him with silence. This is the very worst kind of encouragement because it is that which is not spoken. It is the kind that festers within the mind of the one who could have given a great gift. The encouragements that are not spoken block the light from entering someone's day.
We can be in a crowd of thousands and still not feel seen.
Encouragement is an act of seeing others.
I used to be afraid to encourage others. It felt uncomfortable and awkward. I would see all of these wonderful, amazing things about other people, but would not speak it out. It felt like risking too much to speak it out; it exposed my inner world in a way that made me feel too vulnerable.
The older I get and the more I go through my own seasons of feeling invisible, the more I realize the absolute necessity of encouragement. Encouragement is a breath of fresh air, a hand lifting another up, and a salve for a hurting soul. The right word at the right time can make all the difference.
I have come to know the truth that when I see something awesome in another person, it is not mine to withhold, but a gift to give.
"Watch the way you talk. Let nothing foul or dirty come out of your mouth. Say only what helps, each word a gift." - Ephesians 4:29
When I see something great in someone else but choose to withhold it, it only makes me feel smaller. It makes me pick myself apart more, not less.
But when I speak it, it expands my ability to love and be loved. The more I do it, the easier it becomes.
"So then, we must pursue what promotes peace and what builds up one another." - Romans 14:19
My boys are learning the art of encouragement and it can get pretty hilarious at times! So hilarious in fact, that they serve as excellent examples of encouragement that doesn't exactly encourage.
The other day Finn said to me, "Mommy, you're the prettiest girl...in our family."
I laughed at his sweetness and said, "I'm the only girl in our family!" He just shrugged his shoulders. His heart was in the right place, but the encouragement fell a little short. It was honest and well-intentioned, maybe a little too honest? It was kind, but didn't exactly help me feel special. I believe true encouragement calls out something specific in another person. It recognizes gifts and goodness that God put into a person, and for a moment it is seeing a person through God's perspective, with all of the hope and purpose and love with which He packaged them.
Now Jonas, my little sweetheart in every sense, is a natural encourager. It is a gifting I already see growing in him. Any time I give him a compliment, he shoots it right back to me. This is a daily occurrence in our home:
"Jonas, you're the best boy in the whole world!" (I say this to all my boys...sssssh!) And without fail, Jonas smiles back, "You're best boy in the whole world too, Mommy!"
Uhhhh, thanks?! Encouragement like this rings a little insincere. It is spouted off quickly with little thought or intention. It can almost make the receiver feel like the person saying it doesn't really know her at all.
Then there's Ezra. He's a baby, so he doesn't talk yet :) . But for example's sake, he doesn't encourage others at all. Every positive thing about other people is met by him with silence. This is the very worst kind of encouragement because it is that which is not spoken. It is the kind that festers within the mind of the one who could have given a great gift. The encouragements that are not spoken block the light from entering someone's day.
What isn't spoken out, dies with you.
Fortunately, my boys have a phenomenal daddy to teach them. A few weeks ago, Matt stayed home with the boys while I had a full day of counseling groups and a women's leadership meeting. I popped in to nurse Ezra, then popped right back out. He was in charge of every meal, every diaper change, every mess clean up.
When I walked in the door that night, he's collapsed on the couch. He looks at me with tears coming to his eyes and says, "I don't know how you do it. I could never be a stay at home dad. You love us so well, and you do such an amazing job caring for our boys. Even when you think you don't handle situations well and get frustrated too easily, that's not true at all. You are very patient. I appreciate you so much."
His words were so sincere and specific, my heart melted in a puddle and tears came to my own eyes as well. You can tell encouragement is accurate and timely when it shows all over the receiver's face. All I could say in response was, "Thank you. That means so much to hear!"
I felt more seen that day than I had in a long time.
I encourage you to encourage others, as kind thoughts about them enter your mind, speak them. Let the person know that you see them.
You might just change someone's day.
"Show family affection to one another with brotherly love. Outdo one another in showing honor." - Romans 12:10
Fortunately, my boys have a phenomenal daddy to teach them. A few weeks ago, Matt stayed home with the boys while I had a full day of counseling groups and a women's leadership meeting. I popped in to nurse Ezra, then popped right back out. He was in charge of every meal, every diaper change, every mess clean up.
When I walked in the door that night, he's collapsed on the couch. He looks at me with tears coming to his eyes and says, "I don't know how you do it. I could never be a stay at home dad. You love us so well, and you do such an amazing job caring for our boys. Even when you think you don't handle situations well and get frustrated too easily, that's not true at all. You are very patient. I appreciate you so much."
His words were so sincere and specific, my heart melted in a puddle and tears came to my own eyes as well. You can tell encouragement is accurate and timely when it shows all over the receiver's face. All I could say in response was, "Thank you. That means so much to hear!"
I felt more seen that day than I had in a long time.
I encourage you to encourage others, as kind thoughts about them enter your mind, speak them. Let the person know that you see them.
You might just change someone's day.
"Show family affection to one another with brotherly love. Outdo one another in showing honor." - Romans 12:10
Tuesday, June 2, 2015
Job and Moses and a baby named Ezra
I've been re-reading the story of Job the last couple of weeks. I remember when I first read that book of the Bible - back in high school - I totally misunderstood it.
In my high school Bible, emblazoned with my name on the bottom right corner of course, I underlined quote after quote spoken by Job's "friends". They were touting the faithfulness and splendor of God, after all.
I didn't underline much of what Job said at that time. To me, what he said bordered on blasphemous, openly questioning God and opining his own faithfulness to God. It wasn't until Bible college when I better grasped the book of Job as a whole.
Job didn't handle things perfectly for sure, and God takes care of that in the last couple of chapters. But God is more upset with Job's friends for their passionless rhetoric about His ways. They are spouting off quotes they have learned about God, but not even once seeking to understand the whole situation. They are giving Job advice that he never sought or desired, and their compassion for the depth of their friend's woes is heartbreakingly absent.
In Job 6:25-27 he states, "Honest words never hurt anyone, but what's the point of all this pious bluster? You pretend to tell me what's wrong with my life, but treat my words of anguish as so much hot air. Are people mere things to you? Are friends just items of profit and loss?"
These are the kinds of friends that it is tough to have in a crisis. They pronounce rote declarations over you, never taking the time to listen to your heart.
Then there are the types of friends that Moses had in Exodus 17:8-13. There is a battle waging between the Israelites and the Amalekites. Moses goes to the top of a nearby hill with his infamous staff. As Joshua leads the soldiers in battle, Moses wages his own type of battle from his spot on the hill. As he holds his arms up over the armies, the Israelites gain victory. But as soon as he puts his arms down, they immediately begin losing. What's a guy with two sore arms to do?!
Verse 12-13 tells us, "When Moses' hands grew tired, they took a stone and put it under him and he sat on it. Aaron and Hur held his hands up - one of one side, one on the other - so that his hands remained steady until sunset. So Joshua overcame the Amalekite army with the sword."
These are the types of friends that are wonderful to have in a crisis. When your arms get tired of fighting but the battle is not yet over, they surround you, they support you, they lift you up when you are too weak to do it yourself.
A crisis is a perfect opportunity to decipher whether you have Job friends or Moses friends.
You guys, if you're reading this, you have been Moses friends to us. If you commented to us or messaged us, if you texted words of encouragement, if you listened to our tears, if you lifted your hearts in prayer for us, if you gave us some of your time so that we had a fun distraction, you are indeed a Moses friend.
I can't tell you enough how amazingly supported and lifted up we felt during this past week. We felt buoyed by the prayers of others. Anxiety over the possibilities was not allowed entrance into our minds because of the prayer battle waged for us. We felt surrounded, understood, and most of all....loved.
Thank you. From the most sincere and authentic place in my heart, thank you.
Now for the good news :) .
We had our appointment this morning with the genetic counselor and an ultrasound to get a closer look at Ezra. Our genetic counselor was wonderful. She was full of positivity and calm confidence.
We went into our ultrasound and for about 45 minutes, the tech measured, checked, and double-checked any areas of concern. We were still in the dark during this time obviously, as techs are not allowed to discuss the details.
Then Dr. McNamara entered. From the moment he entered, I felt a kindness and compassion radiate from him. The simple way he looked at us, I could tell that he cared for us although he barely knew us. Matt stated afterward that God had again fulfilled the "good, good father" vision in Dr. McNamara. That's how secure he helped us to feel.
He showed us on ultrasound again the specific things they were looking for indicators of chromosomal abnormalities, specifically the hands, the heart, and the umbilical cord. Everything looked great! So great, in fact, that he advised against the further genetic testing that had been offered. In his words, "It's not needed. Your baby looks great."
In short, the cyst is still there, in the part of the brain that exchanges fluid with the spinal cord. It's something that simply happens sometimes, and when they are isolated (like ours) with no other indicators of abnormality (like ours), they tend to go away on their own by 28 weeks gestation. We will have one more ultrasound at that point to make sure things look good and that baby is on schedule.
Your words of kindness, support, love, and understanding have been used by God to bring us through the last week. I wish I could tell each of you individually how your prayers got us through. Please know how valued and valuable they each were. The waiting was by far the toughest part, and it was in the not knowing that God used you all to lift up our arms as we got tired.
Speaking of which, my brain and body are tired so I will sign off with this: a precious baby smirk to remind us that all is well!
In my high school Bible, emblazoned with my name on the bottom right corner of course, I underlined quote after quote spoken by Job's "friends". They were touting the faithfulness and splendor of God, after all.
I didn't underline much of what Job said at that time. To me, what he said bordered on blasphemous, openly questioning God and opining his own faithfulness to God. It wasn't until Bible college when I better grasped the book of Job as a whole.
Job didn't handle things perfectly for sure, and God takes care of that in the last couple of chapters. But God is more upset with Job's friends for their passionless rhetoric about His ways. They are spouting off quotes they have learned about God, but not even once seeking to understand the whole situation. They are giving Job advice that he never sought or desired, and their compassion for the depth of their friend's woes is heartbreakingly absent.
In Job 6:25-27 he states, "Honest words never hurt anyone, but what's the point of all this pious bluster? You pretend to tell me what's wrong with my life, but treat my words of anguish as so much hot air. Are people mere things to you? Are friends just items of profit and loss?"
These are the kinds of friends that it is tough to have in a crisis. They pronounce rote declarations over you, never taking the time to listen to your heart.
Then there are the types of friends that Moses had in Exodus 17:8-13. There is a battle waging between the Israelites and the Amalekites. Moses goes to the top of a nearby hill with his infamous staff. As Joshua leads the soldiers in battle, Moses wages his own type of battle from his spot on the hill. As he holds his arms up over the armies, the Israelites gain victory. But as soon as he puts his arms down, they immediately begin losing. What's a guy with two sore arms to do?!
Verse 12-13 tells us, "When Moses' hands grew tired, they took a stone and put it under him and he sat on it. Aaron and Hur held his hands up - one of one side, one on the other - so that his hands remained steady until sunset. So Joshua overcame the Amalekite army with the sword."
These are the types of friends that are wonderful to have in a crisis. When your arms get tired of fighting but the battle is not yet over, they surround you, they support you, they lift you up when you are too weak to do it yourself.
A crisis is a perfect opportunity to decipher whether you have Job friends or Moses friends.
You guys, if you're reading this, you have been Moses friends to us. If you commented to us or messaged us, if you texted words of encouragement, if you listened to our tears, if you lifted your hearts in prayer for us, if you gave us some of your time so that we had a fun distraction, you are indeed a Moses friend.
I can't tell you enough how amazingly supported and lifted up we felt during this past week. We felt buoyed by the prayers of others. Anxiety over the possibilities was not allowed entrance into our minds because of the prayer battle waged for us. We felt surrounded, understood, and most of all....loved.
Thank you. From the most sincere and authentic place in my heart, thank you.
Now for the good news :) .
We had our appointment this morning with the genetic counselor and an ultrasound to get a closer look at Ezra. Our genetic counselor was wonderful. She was full of positivity and calm confidence.
We went into our ultrasound and for about 45 minutes, the tech measured, checked, and double-checked any areas of concern. We were still in the dark during this time obviously, as techs are not allowed to discuss the details.
Then Dr. McNamara entered. From the moment he entered, I felt a kindness and compassion radiate from him. The simple way he looked at us, I could tell that he cared for us although he barely knew us. Matt stated afterward that God had again fulfilled the "good, good father" vision in Dr. McNamara. That's how secure he helped us to feel.
He showed us on ultrasound again the specific things they were looking for indicators of chromosomal abnormalities, specifically the hands, the heart, and the umbilical cord. Everything looked great! So great, in fact, that he advised against the further genetic testing that had been offered. In his words, "It's not needed. Your baby looks great."
In short, the cyst is still there, in the part of the brain that exchanges fluid with the spinal cord. It's something that simply happens sometimes, and when they are isolated (like ours) with no other indicators of abnormality (like ours), they tend to go away on their own by 28 weeks gestation. We will have one more ultrasound at that point to make sure things look good and that baby is on schedule.
Your words of kindness, support, love, and understanding have been used by God to bring us through the last week. I wish I could tell each of you individually how your prayers got us through. Please know how valued and valuable they each were. The waiting was by far the toughest part, and it was in the not knowing that God used you all to lift up our arms as we got tired.
Speaking of which, my brain and body are tired so I will sign off with this: a precious baby smirk to remind us that all is well!
Friday, May 29, 2015
"Help"
I'm not sure how people who have held a precious baby in their arms and let their minds truly think about how that baby was formed for 9 months, can still doubt in the hand of a Creator.
There are so many, many things that have to go correctly in order for a baby to be born perfectly without complications. It is truly a miracle when a baby is flawlessly formed and birthed.
With that being said, complications aren't rare. Medical issues, physical deformities, and babies with special needs are fairly common, yet it doesn't mean that those precious babies are any less beautiful or as though they were neglected and forgotten in the forming process.
Matt and I have been fortunate to have 2 uncomplicated pregnancies.
This one has proven a bit different.
We found out yesterday that there is a cyst on our sweet baby's brain. This can be an indicator of a few possible chromosomal issues.
I feel like I've been on a roller coaster for the last couple of days - the exhilaration of the ultrasound appointment, the unmet expectation of not having a daughter, the thrill and embrace of naming our sweet baby and being able to call him by name, and then the crushing news that there could be something seriously wrong with the baby we love so much.
A few days ago, even before our ultrasound, I felt a song laid on my heart. "Good, Good Father" was my declaration going into this week, not knowing all that I would be facing. I lived this song, walking around the house singing it and even figuring out the chords on piano so that I could play it from my heart.
One of my favorite lyrics of this song says, "You are perfect in all of Your ways", and I sang that over and over again, seeking to embrace God's plan for us no matter what it was.
When we found out on Tuesday that we were having a boy, we immediately set out trying to settle on a name for him. That's one of our favorite parts - getting to call him by name. We finally chose "Ezra Noel", and Matt nearly cried happy tears. He had been set on that name this entire pregnancy. I had been the holdout - Ezra Fjerkenstad seemed a bit of a mouthful to me. Yet, when I discovered that the name means "help", my mind was changed. Help was the one thing I knew I needed through this pregnancy - help with my sickness, my exhaustion, my feeling overwhelmed about having 3 young kids.
Naming him brought so much peace and anticipation to his impending arrival.
Then Wednesday afternoon came, and a scary phone call from our OB nurse. That afternoon as tears flowed, I read in Psalm 20:6: "That cinches it - help's coming, an answer's on the way, everything's going to work out".
I smiled at God's goodness that I should read that psalm that day of all days. Peace flowed in.
Later that day, my mother-in-law Lynette called to pray with me. On the voicemail she spoke a couple different times that God is a "good, good father" and able to be trusted. She had no clue I had been clinging to that song. Peace flooded in.
When my mind has been troubled these past few days, I turn on worship music and direct my eyes to the one sure Help I have, God my Father Who loves me and works all things for good.
Here is the part where I say how I hesitated to post this. I could have just posted a professional singer and band singing the song. But because I have personalized this song so much, I felt like it was important to post a personalized version of it (with my very, very rough piano skills). I love this though because if you listen closely enough, you can hear Finn singing along with me. There's nothing quite like listening to your child sing along to a song like this!
We have an ultrasound Tuesday when we will discover more about what is going on with our baby. We highly value your prayers as we wait. Until Tuesday, we are focusing on expecting a good report.
Then our next hurdle will be breaking it to Finn that we are not naming the baby Batman.
There are so many, many things that have to go correctly in order for a baby to be born perfectly without complications. It is truly a miracle when a baby is flawlessly formed and birthed.
With that being said, complications aren't rare. Medical issues, physical deformities, and babies with special needs are fairly common, yet it doesn't mean that those precious babies are any less beautiful or as though they were neglected and forgotten in the forming process.
Matt and I have been fortunate to have 2 uncomplicated pregnancies.
This one has proven a bit different.
We found out yesterday that there is a cyst on our sweet baby's brain. This can be an indicator of a few possible chromosomal issues.
I feel like I've been on a roller coaster for the last couple of days - the exhilaration of the ultrasound appointment, the unmet expectation of not having a daughter, the thrill and embrace of naming our sweet baby and being able to call him by name, and then the crushing news that there could be something seriously wrong with the baby we love so much.
A few days ago, even before our ultrasound, I felt a song laid on my heart. "Good, Good Father" was my declaration going into this week, not knowing all that I would be facing. I lived this song, walking around the house singing it and even figuring out the chords on piano so that I could play it from my heart.
One of my favorite lyrics of this song says, "You are perfect in all of Your ways", and I sang that over and over again, seeking to embrace God's plan for us no matter what it was.
When we found out on Tuesday that we were having a boy, we immediately set out trying to settle on a name for him. That's one of our favorite parts - getting to call him by name. We finally chose "Ezra Noel", and Matt nearly cried happy tears. He had been set on that name this entire pregnancy. I had been the holdout - Ezra Fjerkenstad seemed a bit of a mouthful to me. Yet, when I discovered that the name means "help", my mind was changed. Help was the one thing I knew I needed through this pregnancy - help with my sickness, my exhaustion, my feeling overwhelmed about having 3 young kids.
Naming him brought so much peace and anticipation to his impending arrival.
Then Wednesday afternoon came, and a scary phone call from our OB nurse. That afternoon as tears flowed, I read in Psalm 20:6: "That cinches it - help's coming, an answer's on the way, everything's going to work out".
I smiled at God's goodness that I should read that psalm that day of all days. Peace flowed in.
Later that day, my mother-in-law Lynette called to pray with me. On the voicemail she spoke a couple different times that God is a "good, good father" and able to be trusted. She had no clue I had been clinging to that song. Peace flooded in.
When my mind has been troubled these past few days, I turn on worship music and direct my eyes to the one sure Help I have, God my Father Who loves me and works all things for good.
Here is the part where I say how I hesitated to post this. I could have just posted a professional singer and band singing the song. But because I have personalized this song so much, I felt like it was important to post a personalized version of it (with my very, very rough piano skills). I love this though because if you listen closely enough, you can hear Finn singing along with me. There's nothing quite like listening to your child sing along to a song like this!
We have an ultrasound Tuesday when we will discover more about what is going on with our baby. We highly value your prayers as we wait. Until Tuesday, we are focusing on expecting a good report.
Then our next hurdle will be breaking it to Finn that we are not naming the baby Batman.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)