Keep Singing

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.

Held

I would venture to say that most people tend to take the last few days of a year to glance back at the roller coaster ride that they have just been on. For better or worse, the ride is nearly over. Memories were made, mistakes were made, progress was made.

For some the past year holds a whole lot of pain. For others, it was one giant celebration. For most it falls somewhere in the middle.

Years end, and we look backward but move forward.

Maybe it was just me and the people by whom I am surrounded, but as a whole? 2014 seemed kind of tough. If finances or health weren't a concern, then something funky was going on in a core relationship. If all was well on the surface, then things were in turmoil in the inner person. If it wasn't happening personally, then it was all over the news or Facebook and it still took a toll on one's peace of mind. It kind of felt like many people I know rode wave after wave of bad, sad, or dire news. It kind of feels like many I know are limping near the finish line of this year, bruised and beaten up.

Bring it on, 2015.

Last week was a little rough, physically speaking, for my Finny Matt. He got his fingers shut into a door, banged his head on a bookshelf and a cousin's teeth, and cracked his elbow on a hard piece of wood in our couch while jumping (how?????)

He's been a little beaten up.

In each of these situations, as he has screamed a scream that makes the hair on my arms stand at attention and my heart beat a million miles a minutes, in those first few moments all I have done is held him. I held him, as close as I could, as tight as he would let me. I didn't want to examine or fix his pain until I could calm his spirit. In those first few moments, I held him and whispered into his ear, "It's okay, it's okay, it's okay, you're okay." I'm not sure if I was trying to convince myself or him.

As I was holding and whispering to him after cracking his chin on our bookshelf, it made me think of how God reacts when we feel brutally beaten up by the world in which we live. Maybe, perhaps, in those first few moments or days when we experience a sharp pain, His main priority is to hold us. He's not fixing our problem or our wound, He's not making it less painful, He's simply holding us as tight as He can.

It is tempting to get impatient with God when we feel like it takes Him too long to address our aches and pains. However, if we could tune into His whisper above our screams of pain, we may just even hear Him whisper, "It's okay, it's okay, it's okay, you're okay. I've got this. We'll get through this. Hold on."

I was talking about this metaphor with my in-laws, and my father-in-law looks at me a little skeptically. "So, what if someone's arm gets ripped off and they are gushing blood? Would you still just want to hold them?"

It made me think. My metaphor-driven brain can sometimes simplify things too much, I admit.

As a mother, if this happened to my son, I would grab the arm (I think. If I could. I might gag.) But I would still hold him close as possible as we made our way to the nearest emergency room.

As our Father God, I absolutely believe that He picks up our broken pieces (which don't gross Him out at all) and still holds us tight before He begins the process of healing our wounds.

I guess I go into all of this to encourage someone who may be reading this. If your world has been rocked, or your year has been awful, or you don't know which end is up, chances are good that God is holding onto you as tight as He can.

Pay attention; you may even be able to feel His touch or hear Him whisper words of comfort.

Psalm 119:76: "May your unfailing love be my comfort, according to your promise to your servant".

Isaiah 40:11: "Like a shepherd, he will care for his flock, gathering the lambs in his arms, hugging them as he carries them, leading the nursing ewes to good pasture."

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)

Rescue

Confession:

Sometimes I let Jonas cry because I think he has THE cutest baby crying face. Ever.

Now I never let him wail or scream when something is really wrong. I'm not a monster :) .

But sometimes, when he is just starting to want something, I let it linger. So he puffs out his lower lip. Then he timidly starts to whimper a bit. Then his face starts changing and his cries get louder.

Sometimes I just like to watch him. Sometimes I let him cry a bit.

Sometimes, I even take photos so that I can document his exceptional sad face for posterity:

Just getting started

I said "NOW!"

Not so happy

Oh squisher

I could really eat him up

Finn mastering the sad face

The calm after the storm

It's not because I don't love him. On the contrary, I love him SO much that even his sad faces are nothing but adorable to me.

And it's not because I can't rescue him. I can.....but I know that he will be okay in his sadness for a bit before I pick him up and comfort him.

It's also not because I don't want to help him. At these times that I am delaying his rescue just a bit, I still long to pick him up and give him what he is seeking: food or rest or a clean diaper.

I do not always save him from his baby hardships when he wants to be saved. I see a bigger picture than he does and I know that he will be okay.

So it is with God and us.

Now, God's reasons for not rescuing us on our timetables are much more mighty and intimate than any reason of mine for not picking up my son the moment he begins to fuss.

But it is the same idea. Because God sees a bigger picture, He knows that we will be okay in our fuss while we await his rescue from any current situation.

He doesn't not rescue us because He doesn't love us, or because He can't rescue us, or because He doesn't want to.

On the contrary, He DOES love us and He CAN rescue us and He does WANT to.

He simply sees a bigger picture and knows that we can wait until the right time, when He can receive the most glory for His good pleasure.

"Yet the Lord longs to be gracious to you; he rises to show you compassion. For the Lord is a God of justice. Blessed are all who wait for him." - Isaiah 30:18

I think though, that there is another reason that I love my son's sad face - besides its utter adorability.

My son's sad face serves as a reminder that he desperately needs me.

Likewise, our grievances, fusses, and pains are a reminder that we desperately need God.

He alone can pick us up and provide the comfort and rescue that fulfills. Though we may have to wait for it and it might not come at the exact moment we want it to...........it will come.

On His time, not ours. In His way, not ours.

So in those moments when we feel all alone in our sadnesses, we can still trust in His rescue. In every cry of loss or pain, we can take heart and know that those are only a reminder that we still need Him and His rescue is imminent.

He is with us, He hears us, He loves us, He will rescue us.

Ring Reminder

This post is momentous for me because it is #100.

Woohoo! Who would have thought that I would have so much to say? :)

This past week Matt has been gone as a counselor at senior high camp. In his absence, I found myself coping with it in a few different ways:

- I stayed busy and surrounded by friends and family
- I took lots of pictures to document our week so that it wouldn't feel like Matt missed anything
- I hardly took my wedding ring off at all

Admittedly, leaving my wedding ring on all week doesn't seem like that big of a deal. But usually I take it off right when I enter the house, right along with my shoes. Matt and I have both done this since we got married - we walk in the door, take off adornments, and put on comfies :). Yes, we are an old married couple!

However, this week, I felt myself drawn to my ring in his absence. I showered with it on, slept with it on, exercised with it on. Without his presence there to consistently remind me of his love for me (we couldn't really talk throughout the week either), I found a sort of solace in the ring that he gave me.

My ring serves as a reminder of the promise that Matt gave me. In his absence, I could recall that promise by wearing and looking at the ring. I knew that there was someone out there that loved me, even if I couldn't see him or talk to him.

Yesterday as I was contemplating the comfort I found in doing this, I thought about God's promises to us which are provided in His Word. While we may not always utilize them as we should and "leave them off in the comfort of our own home" like Matt and I do with our rings, they are still there in our loneliness, desperation, and need.

The promises remain, even in physical absence. And they are reminders of the ultimate love.

Remembering

Yesterday after naps, my sister and I rounded up our boys and Mom and Bryan (who had flowers in hand) and made a family trip to the cemetery.

Cemeteries aren't typically a romp roarin' time.

But every time I visit, I enjoy reading the gravestones of those whom I do not know. I gaze at their names, the years they were born, how old they were when they died. I try to imagine what they looked like, marriages, children, what kind of job they may have had, what life was like during the years they were alive.

It may sound a touch creepy, but I love people's stories.

As we trudged through grass and chased down runaway boys (no wait, maybe that was just me chasing), we talked memories.

For 'twas Memorial Day, after all.

As we stood at my brother's headstone, I found myself watching Finn play nearby with his cousins. And it hit me - suddenly - how life has just..........gone on.

For my brother, Matt, life halted in that moment when he passed. But for the rest of us, life has progressed. It was a beautiful October day when our family stood in that same spot and said a final goodbye. That was 17 years ago; I was a 13 year old adolescent grappling with the loss of my brother. Now I stood in that exact same spot as a 30 year old woman, watching my sweet son play with his cousins and marveling at the spin of life.

As the boys took turns climbing on Matt's headstone, my mom said something that brought tears to my eyes and sent them rolling down my cheeks:

"Matt would have loved having you boys climb all over. Because he would have loved you all so much."

We each shared happy memories of Matt. Kiki shared of their long talks when she was in college. Mom shared about the way he threw his head back when he laughed. Bryan shared of how tall he stood when he walked mom down the aisle at their wedding. I shared about how he cleaned and bandaged my leg after a bad fall at the tennis courts.

On the day of Matt's funeral, our worship pastor at the time, Pastor Mark, came up to my mom and delivered a sweet gift. He told her that he saw Matt in heaven with grandpa (my mom's dad). Grandpa said that he was taking care of him.

That is a treasure that our entire family has held onto since that day.

The hope of heaven is real. It can cover, like a balm, the loss that is felt when we remember our lost loved ones.

Hope is a gift on Memorial Day.

Quick Comfort

Finn has been having a tough time sleeping the last couple of nights and we are not really sure why. Our best guess is that he is teething, but come on now, we are first time parents so what do we really know?! :)

When he wakes up like this in the middle of the night crying, I will go into his room and soothe him by stroking his head and rubbing his back. In my head, as I'm thinking how much I would rather be in bed sleeping, I allow myself to believe that I am giving the kind of tender touch that only a mother can give.

This morning at 4 a.m. when he awoke, I was feeling particularly lazy so I sat on the floor and stuck my hands through the slots in order to caress his head and back. He fussed for a bit longer, but eventually succumbed to the soothing and fell back asleep holding my hand.

(one of the many sleeping predicaments he gets himself into)

As I was thinking of the whole ordeal later this morning, I couldn't help but relate it to myself and God. There are times metaphorically "in the middle of the night" when I am crying and feel alone and in the dark. And I know God cannot be seen, but I believe that He comes to us in those moments to comfort and to just sit with us so we are not alone. Sometimes it can take me awhile to give in to His soothing, but once I do, His peace floods my heart and mind and I am able to believe again that things will be alright. 

There are many Bible verses that assure us that God will never leave us, especially when we are lost or lonely. Isaiah 30:19 even says that "Cry for help and you'll find its grace and more grace. The moment he hears, he'll answer" (MSG)

Sometimes I, like Finn, allow myself to get so worked up that I don't always welcome the soothing touch right away. It is in these times that I just need to remember that God has heard my cry and is actually eager to respond. It is my firm belief that He is quick to comfort when I am in pain; may I be quick to receive His comfort and allow myself to fall asleep holding His hand. 

"Don't fret or worry. Instead of worrying, pray. Let petitions and praises shape your worries into  prayers, letting God know your concerns. Before you know it, a sense of God's wholeness, everything coming together for good, will come and settle you down. It's wonderful what happens when Christ displaces worry at the center of your life" (Philippians 4:6-7 MSG)