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.
Showing posts with label family. Show all posts
Showing posts with label family. Show all posts
Monday, September 19, 2016
Friday, July 15, 2016
Be Still and Start Moving
It has been a tough summer for me. God has been chiseling away at any place in my life where I have sought a safe place, other than Him. Relationships. Health. Ministry. Food. Finances. Relationships (again and again and again).
At times it has felt less like chiseling and more like God was using a machete to hack away whole parts of my safe havens.
And like chiseling (and hacking) tend to be, it's been painful. There have been tears. There have been angry prayers to God. There have been awful emotional reactions. There has been listening, learning, and waiting.
I think, I think, I'm maybe kinda sorta starting to get a bit of the gist of it. Perhaps.
Sometimes answers come immediately. Some take their sweet time, like an old person driving around on a Sunday afternoon.
It is so easy to get frustrated and impatient in the waiting.
"God? Hello? You're still listening, right?"
There are a couple of different ways that I have tried to navigate this chiseling season.
1. Following my own instincts
We visited Matt's parents over Easter. Once I laid the younger boys down for a nap, I seized the opportunity to get some alone time with my oldest. We went "adventuring", which included throwing rocks in the river, walking the trails, and getting a little bit lost. I knew the way back to the house, but Finn wasn't so sure. Yet, since he's a 5 year old boy, he insisted on leading. He led us well, trusting his instincts and his memory. I complimented him at one point on doing a good job and he spoke, in true Finn fashion, "Your Finny is like a superhero. I can sniff the way home. Like a superhero dog."
I let him lead, because he insisted upon it. But I knew the way to our destination; if he got too far off track, I could always take control and redirect. So we meandered a bit, but still reached home. If I had led the way home, we would have gotten there quicker. But 5 year old boys really like to lead the way.
Adults like to lead the way sometimes too. We think we know best, and we don't always like to be told what to do or where to go. We know what we want and we are pretty sure that we know how to get it. So we take off and charge toward the goal line. The good news is that when we belong to God, He watches over our way. When we get too far off course, He resets our steps. In His mercy, He gives us the freedom to make decisions and in His love He helps us stay on the path to our destination.
We sometimes try to sniff our way home, not unlike a superhero dog, and expect God to bless wherever we end up.
Those who follow their instincts will try to look ahead to worst case scenarios and manipulate and control all the variables so things are in their favor. They try to manage all factors.
But there's another way, an arguably quicker way to reach our destination.
2. Follow the Leader
I was paying attention to the band a few weeks ago during worship. I rarely ever do this, so it was eye opening to me. It's no secret that Matt is a free flow in worship kind of guy. Most of the people on the worship team have played with Matt a long time and they know his signals very well. They know when his foot starts thumping, things are only getting started. When he backs away from the mic, keep it rolling and stay where you are. When the head nods, begin the new song. In those moments of free flow they are fully tuned in on him, as the leader, to tell them where to go next in the song. If one of them were to stop paying attention, that one could miss an important cue. Their eyes are on him, and they follow him. They trust his leadership.
Those who follow the leader focus on playing their part well and watching for their leader's cues. They study their leader to know the cues better. It's a sweet mix of watching, waiting, and acting.
One of my favorite verses for a long time was Exodus 14:14: "The Lord is fighting for you. You need only to be still!". I was in a season of transition when I clung to that promise. I would speak it to myself frequently to be encouraged in the face of the unknown.
One thing I didn't do at the time was read and study the surrounding text. In this passage of Scripture, Moses has led the Israelite people to the edge of the Red Sea. They are accosting him and accusing him, desiring to return to the chains of Egypt instead of pursuing the vast unknown. They preferred a safe cage to the arms of God. I would judge them for it, but I'm too busy identifying with them.
Here's what I missed years ago: right after Moses reminded the Israelites that God is fighting for them and to just relax, God responds: "Then the Lord said to Moses, 'Why are you crying out to me? Tell the Israelites to start moving." (v 15).
Er, God, what is it? Be still or start moving?
Both.
The 'being still' has to do with our thoughts and emotions. It stops them before they take over and we act and react to whatever we feel. If it had been up to the Israelites, they would have returned to Egypt and lived in slavery.....out of fear.
The 'start moving' has to do with stepping out in faith, taking the next step that God shows you. If the Israelites had never taken that next step, they would have missed the spectacular experience of God dividing the Red Sea, for their freedom. "Then Moses stretched out his hand over the sea. All that night the Lord pushed back the sea with a strong east wind and turned the sea into dry ground. The water divided, and the Israelites went through the middle of the sea on dry ground. The water stood like a wall on their right and on their left." (vv. 21-22).
As we follow God's leading, we need to do our best to stay calm. That doesn't mean never crying or never praying to God in anger. It means rehearsing His faithfulness and the amazing things He's already done for you. It means remembering His goodness and the millions of times He's shown His love to you. It means being aware of His power and promises and the fact that He can change your situation in a moment and WILL change it if and when it needs to be changed. Until then, it's knowing He's got you.
But we also need to keep our feet moving. We cannot sit around and wait, letting our gifts sit idle or others' needs unmet. We keep our eyes on Him for cues, and we walk, knowing He will direct us.
The thing with waiting on God's timing is that it cannot be rushed or manipulated.
But it can absolutely, 100%, all the time, be trusted.
"Protect me, O God, because I take refuge in you. I said to the Lord, 'You are my Lord. Without you, I have nothing good.' Those who lead holy lives on earth are the noble ones who fill me with joy. Those who quickly chase after other gods multiply their sorrows. I will not pour out their sacrificial offerings of blood or use my lips to speak their names. The Lord is my inheritance and my cup. You are the one who determines my destiny. Your boundary lines mark out pleasant places for me. Indeed, my inheritance is something beautiful. I will praise the Lord, who advises me. My conscience warns me at night. I always keep the Lord in front of me. When he is by my side, I cannot be moved. That is why my heart is glad and my soul rejoices. My body rests securely because you do not abandon my soul to the grave or allow your holy one to decay. You make the path of life known to me. Complete joy is in your presence. Pleasures are by your side forever." Psalm 16
At times it has felt less like chiseling and more like God was using a machete to hack away whole parts of my safe havens.
And like chiseling (and hacking) tend to be, it's been painful. There have been tears. There have been angry prayers to God. There have been awful emotional reactions. There has been listening, learning, and waiting.
I think, I think, I'm maybe kinda sorta starting to get a bit of the gist of it. Perhaps.
Sometimes answers come immediately. Some take their sweet time, like an old person driving around on a Sunday afternoon.
It is so easy to get frustrated and impatient in the waiting.
"God? Hello? You're still listening, right?"
There are a couple of different ways that I have tried to navigate this chiseling season.
1. Following my own instincts
We visited Matt's parents over Easter. Once I laid the younger boys down for a nap, I seized the opportunity to get some alone time with my oldest. We went "adventuring", which included throwing rocks in the river, walking the trails, and getting a little bit lost. I knew the way back to the house, but Finn wasn't so sure. Yet, since he's a 5 year old boy, he insisted on leading. He led us well, trusting his instincts and his memory. I complimented him at one point on doing a good job and he spoke, in true Finn fashion, "Your Finny is like a superhero. I can sniff the way home. Like a superhero dog."
Adults like to lead the way sometimes too. We think we know best, and we don't always like to be told what to do or where to go. We know what we want and we are pretty sure that we know how to get it. So we take off and charge toward the goal line. The good news is that when we belong to God, He watches over our way. When we get too far off course, He resets our steps. In His mercy, He gives us the freedom to make decisions and in His love He helps us stay on the path to our destination.
We sometimes try to sniff our way home, not unlike a superhero dog, and expect God to bless wherever we end up.
Those who follow their instincts will try to look ahead to worst case scenarios and manipulate and control all the variables so things are in their favor. They try to manage all factors.
But there's another way, an arguably quicker way to reach our destination.
2. Follow the Leader
I was paying attention to the band a few weeks ago during worship. I rarely ever do this, so it was eye opening to me. It's no secret that Matt is a free flow in worship kind of guy. Most of the people on the worship team have played with Matt a long time and they know his signals very well. They know when his foot starts thumping, things are only getting started. When he backs away from the mic, keep it rolling and stay where you are. When the head nods, begin the new song. In those moments of free flow they are fully tuned in on him, as the leader, to tell them where to go next in the song. If one of them were to stop paying attention, that one could miss an important cue. Their eyes are on him, and they follow him. They trust his leadership.
Those who follow the leader focus on playing their part well and watching for their leader's cues. They study their leader to know the cues better. It's a sweet mix of watching, waiting, and acting.
One of my favorite verses for a long time was Exodus 14:14: "The Lord is fighting for you. You need only to be still!". I was in a season of transition when I clung to that promise. I would speak it to myself frequently to be encouraged in the face of the unknown.
One thing I didn't do at the time was read and study the surrounding text. In this passage of Scripture, Moses has led the Israelite people to the edge of the Red Sea. They are accosting him and accusing him, desiring to return to the chains of Egypt instead of pursuing the vast unknown. They preferred a safe cage to the arms of God. I would judge them for it, but I'm too busy identifying with them.
Here's what I missed years ago: right after Moses reminded the Israelites that God is fighting for them and to just relax, God responds: "Then the Lord said to Moses, 'Why are you crying out to me? Tell the Israelites to start moving." (v 15).
Er, God, what is it? Be still or start moving?
Both.
The 'being still' has to do with our thoughts and emotions. It stops them before they take over and we act and react to whatever we feel. If it had been up to the Israelites, they would have returned to Egypt and lived in slavery.....out of fear.
The 'start moving' has to do with stepping out in faith, taking the next step that God shows you. If the Israelites had never taken that next step, they would have missed the spectacular experience of God dividing the Red Sea, for their freedom. "Then Moses stretched out his hand over the sea. All that night the Lord pushed back the sea with a strong east wind and turned the sea into dry ground. The water divided, and the Israelites went through the middle of the sea on dry ground. The water stood like a wall on their right and on their left." (vv. 21-22).
As we follow God's leading, we need to do our best to stay calm. That doesn't mean never crying or never praying to God in anger. It means rehearsing His faithfulness and the amazing things He's already done for you. It means remembering His goodness and the millions of times He's shown His love to you. It means being aware of His power and promises and the fact that He can change your situation in a moment and WILL change it if and when it needs to be changed. Until then, it's knowing He's got you.
But we also need to keep our feet moving. We cannot sit around and wait, letting our gifts sit idle or others' needs unmet. We keep our eyes on Him for cues, and we walk, knowing He will direct us.
The thing with waiting on God's timing is that it cannot be rushed or manipulated.
But it can absolutely, 100%, all the time, be trusted.
"Protect me, O God, because I take refuge in you. I said to the Lord, 'You are my Lord. Without you, I have nothing good.' Those who lead holy lives on earth are the noble ones who fill me with joy. Those who quickly chase after other gods multiply their sorrows. I will not pour out their sacrificial offerings of blood or use my lips to speak their names. The Lord is my inheritance and my cup. You are the one who determines my destiny. Your boundary lines mark out pleasant places for me. Indeed, my inheritance is something beautiful. I will praise the Lord, who advises me. My conscience warns me at night. I always keep the Lord in front of me. When he is by my side, I cannot be moved. That is why my heart is glad and my soul rejoices. My body rests securely because you do not abandon my soul to the grave or allow your holy one to decay. You make the path of life known to me. Complete joy is in your presence. Pleasures are by your side forever." Psalm 16
Saturday, June 18, 2016
Fatherhood
I was newly pregnant and very hormonal when Matt leaned over to me in the middle of a church service and said, "I hope that our baby is a little girl, because I want to be the daddy to her that you never had."
In that moment, every emotion in my body tried to punch its way out of my body at the same time. It was powerful and memorable.
We have never had that little girl we thought we would.
But on this Father's Day weekend, if there was one thing I could say to my husband, it would be:
He has been that daddy to our boys.
He is present.
I asked Finn today what is his favorite thing about his daddy. He said, "I love that he wrestles and plays and swims and flies a kite with me. And that he lets me go to church with him at rest time sometimes."
It is Matt's presence that matters to his son(s).
In all of my experiences with fathers, I realize more and more that so much of fatherhood is presentness.
And not simply being in the same room. But being present with one's presence.
I could sit in the same room with someone for 5 hours, staring at a tv, and not feel like I matter at all.
But give me 10 minutes of invested conversation, and my value goes through the roof.
I have been reading in Exodus lately. At the beginning of chapter 26, God outlines the blessings that he longs to give to His people (vv. 3-13).
In these verses, God promises immense blessings if His people obey Him.
He promises fertility in the land (vv. 4-5, 10)
He promises living in safety in the land (v. 5)
He promises removal of dangerous animals and of the sword (v. 6)
He promises victory (v.7)
He promises His favor (v. 9)
When I was reading this the other day, I caught a glimpse of God's Father heart towards us.
The essence of these verses show the role a father ideally plays for his children: provision, peace, and protection.
Lastly, and most beautifully, God promises His presence: "I will place My residence among you, and I will not reject you. I will walk among you and be your God, and you will be my people." (v 11-12).
God's ultimate promise to bless us was His Presence.
This leads me to believe that God's plan for earthly fathers is to provide their children with the same:
Provision. Peace. Protection. Presence.
Fatherhood at its fullest:
- teaches
- leads
- disciplines
- invests
- asks questions
- notices what is unsaid
- provides
- brings peace
- protects
- SHOWS UP DOG TIRED AND SELFISHLY WANTING TO REST BUT POURS FORTH THE LAST BIT OF WHAT HE HAS SO THAT HIS CHILD KNOWS THEY ARE LOVED, VALUED, AND TREASURED.
Simply being present with one's presence makes all the difference, however much of it one have to give.
Fatherhood is presentness.
In that moment, every emotion in my body tried to punch its way out of my body at the same time. It was powerful and memorable.
We have never had that little girl we thought we would.
But on this Father's Day weekend, if there was one thing I could say to my husband, it would be:
He has been that daddy to our boys.
He is present.
I asked Finn today what is his favorite thing about his daddy. He said, "I love that he wrestles and plays and swims and flies a kite with me. And that he lets me go to church with him at rest time sometimes."
It is Matt's presence that matters to his son(s).
In all of my experiences with fathers, I realize more and more that so much of fatherhood is presentness.
And not simply being in the same room. But being present with one's presence.
I could sit in the same room with someone for 5 hours, staring at a tv, and not feel like I matter at all.
But give me 10 minutes of invested conversation, and my value goes through the roof.
I have been reading in Exodus lately. At the beginning of chapter 26, God outlines the blessings that he longs to give to His people (vv. 3-13).
In these verses, God promises immense blessings if His people obey Him.
He promises fertility in the land (vv. 4-5, 10)
He promises living in safety in the land (v. 5)
He promises removal of dangerous animals and of the sword (v. 6)
He promises victory (v.7)
He promises His favor (v. 9)
When I was reading this the other day, I caught a glimpse of God's Father heart towards us.
The essence of these verses show the role a father ideally plays for his children: provision, peace, and protection.
Lastly, and most beautifully, God promises His presence: "I will place My residence among you, and I will not reject you. I will walk among you and be your God, and you will be my people." (v 11-12).
God's ultimate promise to bless us was His Presence.
This leads me to believe that God's plan for earthly fathers is to provide their children with the same:
Provision. Peace. Protection. Presence.
Fatherhood at its fullest:
- teaches
- leads
- disciplines
- invests
- asks questions
- notices what is unsaid
- provides
- brings peace
- protects
- SHOWS UP DOG TIRED AND SELFISHLY WANTING TO REST BUT POURS FORTH THE LAST BIT OF WHAT HE HAS SO THAT HIS CHILD KNOWS THEY ARE LOVED, VALUED, AND TREASURED.
Simply being present with one's presence makes all the difference, however much of it one have to give.
Fatherhood is presentness.
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
Friday, December 4, 2015
A Treadmill Tale
Almost immediately once Ezra was born, I was eager to get back on the exercise horse. Baby weight does not magically fall off my body, so I was very ready to put in the work to get my body back to where I was before the pregnancy. I am always so tired of maternity clothes and cannot wait to fit back into my "normal" clothes.
About 4 weeks post-pardem, I squeezed into my exercise clothes. I strapped on my running shoes. I dusted the cobwebs off our neglected treadmill. My goal was to "just run a quick mile". I got on and set the treadmill pace at a familiar number that I used to run at before pregnancy.
Ha. Hahahahaha.
My body laughed at me. Or rather, screamed at me. I grudgingly kept pushing buttons to slow the treadmill's pace. I had barely managed half a mile. My expectations were too great and my pace too fervent. Because I had started off at too fast a pace, I was too spent to complete my mission.
I had hopes to hop back on the treadmill after a casual 9 month break and be able to do what I used to do with ease. Those expectations were unreasonable and, ultimately, unkind to myself.
I had forgotten all of the hard work that I had put in to be able to run at that previous pace. I had forgotten the hours I spent building up my ability to be able to run at the rate and distance that I could before the pregnancy nausea and fatigue set in. I had forgotten that I would probably need to start from scratch.
I tackled the treadmill again a couple of days later. That time, I set the pace at a slower rate with the goal to complete a mile no matter what. It wasn't super easy, but because I was moving at a slower pace, I was able to complete a mile.
My battle with the treadmill reminded me that if I didn't run a mile yesterday (or anytime in the last nine months), it's going to be harder to run a mile today. I can't expect to achieve a goal when I didn't invest the work needed to meet it.
I can't expect where I don't invest.
One of the main questions I have been asked since Ezra's birth is, "How is it going with three?"
If you had asked me that 1 week, 2 weeks, 5 weeks ago, I would have smiled and said, "It's going much better than I thought!"
And that was true. That was true.
This week has brought a bit of a six-week slump.
I'm tired, I'm stressed, I'm tired of being stressed and tired. And what's more: there is no end in sight. There is no end to the list of things that need to get done. Boys need to be fed and changed and taken care of....daily. Laundry and dishes and toys need to be cleaned and put away....daily. I need to shower....daily.
When Ezra first joined our family nearly 7 weeks ago, I felt strong right out of the gate. I was eager to prove that I could tackle being a mommy of three and do it well. And I really feel like I did. I remember the feeling as I drove to church for the first time with all three. All three were dressed and changed and happy. Even more, I was dressed and showered and happy. Life was good, man.
But this week something has changed. I feel overwhelmed by the magnitude of the to-do. And I just don't feel like I can. I just can't even.
I realized this morning that, like that first day on the treadmill, I spent these last 6 and a half weeks at a fervent pace. Eager to prove that "I got this", I spent energy that I did not have. I spent my reserve supply, and it has been showing. In my emotions, in my parenting, in my relationships, it's showing.
If there was a slow down button to push on life with three kids, I would be pushing it. Again and again. That's not really an option when it comes to being a mommy, however.
When I run, I hit my stride when I am focused on something other than the fact that I am running. I set a good pace and work on breathing correctly, and then I try to focus on something else completely. A sermon, a song, a problem. Some of my easiest runs have happened because I was trying to work out a problem or bad day in my head. If all I think about is the fact that I'm running and can't wait to be done, I will end my run much sooner than if I'm able to fix my gaze elsewhere.
Focus matters.
So what do I do when I'm overexerted and can't get off the mommy treadmill? Sticking with the running theme, my only option becomes to re-set my pace. Correct my breathing. Fix my focus.
I can slow down and take deep breaths in order to deal with the task before me. But even more importantly, I can fix my gaze onto something greater.
For me, that means fixing my eyes on God through gratitude. I become busy giving thanks and there isn't enough room for the icky stuff to creep in and settle down.
Where I can see my boys' energy as overwhelming, I choose to see it as a reminder that they are healthy and strong.
Where I can see the crumbs on the floor as a never-ending means of visual torture, I choose to see them as a reminder that we have food to feed our family.
Where I can see frustration that my body isn't whipping back into shape like I wish it would, I choose to see the miracle in my arms that it brought forth.
When I do this, I invest in my joy and peace, and can therefore expect to see increased joy and peace throughout my home.
Because I know, I can't expect there to be joy and peace when I haven't done any of the work to invest in it.
A steady pace. A fixed focus. A happy heart.
"God pays no attention to our natural individuality in the development of our spiritual life. His plan runs right through our natural life. We must see to it that we aid and assist God, and not stand against Him by saying, 'I can't do that'. God will not discipline us; we must discipline ourselves. God will not bring our 'arguments...and every thought into captivity to the obedience of Christ' (2 Corinthians 10:5) - we have to do it. Don't say, 'Oh, Lord, I suffer from wandering thoughts.' Don't suffer from wandering thoughts. Stop listening to the tyranny of your individual natural life and win freedom into the spiritual life." - Oswald Chambers, My Utmost for His Highest
About 4 weeks post-pardem, I squeezed into my exercise clothes. I strapped on my running shoes. I dusted the cobwebs off our neglected treadmill. My goal was to "just run a quick mile". I got on and set the treadmill pace at a familiar number that I used to run at before pregnancy.
Ha. Hahahahaha.
My body laughed at me. Or rather, screamed at me. I grudgingly kept pushing buttons to slow the treadmill's pace. I had barely managed half a mile. My expectations were too great and my pace too fervent. Because I had started off at too fast a pace, I was too spent to complete my mission.
I had hopes to hop back on the treadmill after a casual 9 month break and be able to do what I used to do with ease. Those expectations were unreasonable and, ultimately, unkind to myself.
I had forgotten all of the hard work that I had put in to be able to run at that previous pace. I had forgotten the hours I spent building up my ability to be able to run at the rate and distance that I could before the pregnancy nausea and fatigue set in. I had forgotten that I would probably need to start from scratch.
I tackled the treadmill again a couple of days later. That time, I set the pace at a slower rate with the goal to complete a mile no matter what. It wasn't super easy, but because I was moving at a slower pace, I was able to complete a mile.
My battle with the treadmill reminded me that if I didn't run a mile yesterday (or anytime in the last nine months), it's going to be harder to run a mile today. I can't expect to achieve a goal when I didn't invest the work needed to meet it.
I can't expect where I don't invest.
One of the main questions I have been asked since Ezra's birth is, "How is it going with three?"
If you had asked me that 1 week, 2 weeks, 5 weeks ago, I would have smiled and said, "It's going much better than I thought!"
And that was true. That was true.
This week has brought a bit of a six-week slump.
I'm tired, I'm stressed, I'm tired of being stressed and tired. And what's more: there is no end in sight. There is no end to the list of things that need to get done. Boys need to be fed and changed and taken care of....daily. Laundry and dishes and toys need to be cleaned and put away....daily. I need to shower....daily.
When Ezra first joined our family nearly 7 weeks ago, I felt strong right out of the gate. I was eager to prove that I could tackle being a mommy of three and do it well. And I really feel like I did. I remember the feeling as I drove to church for the first time with all three. All three were dressed and changed and happy. Even more, I was dressed and showered and happy. Life was good, man.
But this week something has changed. I feel overwhelmed by the magnitude of the to-do. And I just don't feel like I can. I just can't even.
I realized this morning that, like that first day on the treadmill, I spent these last 6 and a half weeks at a fervent pace. Eager to prove that "I got this", I spent energy that I did not have. I spent my reserve supply, and it has been showing. In my emotions, in my parenting, in my relationships, it's showing.
If there was a slow down button to push on life with three kids, I would be pushing it. Again and again. That's not really an option when it comes to being a mommy, however.
When I run, I hit my stride when I am focused on something other than the fact that I am running. I set a good pace and work on breathing correctly, and then I try to focus on something else completely. A sermon, a song, a problem. Some of my easiest runs have happened because I was trying to work out a problem or bad day in my head. If all I think about is the fact that I'm running and can't wait to be done, I will end my run much sooner than if I'm able to fix my gaze elsewhere.
Focus matters.
So what do I do when I'm overexerted and can't get off the mommy treadmill? Sticking with the running theme, my only option becomes to re-set my pace. Correct my breathing. Fix my focus.
I can slow down and take deep breaths in order to deal with the task before me. But even more importantly, I can fix my gaze onto something greater.
For me, that means fixing my eyes on God through gratitude. I become busy giving thanks and there isn't enough room for the icky stuff to creep in and settle down.
Where I can see my boys' energy as overwhelming, I choose to see it as a reminder that they are healthy and strong.
Where I can see the crumbs on the floor as a never-ending means of visual torture, I choose to see them as a reminder that we have food to feed our family.
Where I can see frustration that my body isn't whipping back into shape like I wish it would, I choose to see the miracle in my arms that it brought forth.
When I do this, I invest in my joy and peace, and can therefore expect to see increased joy and peace throughout my home.
Because I know, I can't expect there to be joy and peace when I haven't done any of the work to invest in it.
A steady pace. A fixed focus. A happy heart.
"God pays no attention to our natural individuality in the development of our spiritual life. His plan runs right through our natural life. We must see to it that we aid and assist God, and not stand against Him by saying, 'I can't do that'. God will not discipline us; we must discipline ourselves. God will not bring our 'arguments...and every thought into captivity to the obedience of Christ' (2 Corinthians 10:5) - we have to do it. Don't say, 'Oh, Lord, I suffer from wandering thoughts.' Don't suffer from wandering thoughts. Stop listening to the tyranny of your individual natural life and win freedom into the spiritual life." - Oswald Chambers, My Utmost for His Highest
Tuesday, September 15, 2015
That One Time Jonas Fell
Last night, my boys had beans so I did what any mommy of bean-filled children does on a nice night: we went to the park!
At this particular park, we typically park on the street because its parking lot is on another planet.
We played, we swung, we had a mah-velous time.
As the time came to leave, my boys took off running toward the car. My competitive boys were racing because, of course. As they got closer to the car, I realized that while Finn knows well enough to stop at the car and not run into the road, Jonas may not.
The worst case scenario ran quickly through my mind and my 35 1/2 week pregnant body started trying to walk a little bit faster. Let's be honest, I hadn't moved that quickly in weeks.
Before I could trick my body into a full blown trot, a beautiful thing happened.
Jonas fell.
I caught up to him quickly, picked him up, and wiped his tears. As I did these things, I thanked God that my son had fallen.
Because even though he had gotten a little hurt, it could have been so much worse.
He fell in the soft grass when he could have fallen on the harsh and unforgiving pavement of the street. I hate even going there in my mind, but he could have been hit by a car.
He suffered a minor wound and was spared a potentially mortal one. That fall, however unpleasant, was a blessing.
Naturally, it made me think about how God allows negative things into our lives. Because He is all good and all loving, it is vital to see our own falls in the grass as pockets of grace that save us from far worse fates.
These past few months have not been the easiest our family has ever seen. There have been stressors of many kinds: financial, physical, emotional, spiritual. It has been easy to become discouraged and beaten down.
Then I remind myself of Who God is: in His very nature He makes no mistakes and everything that comes from Him is overflowing with love, and I cannot despise these difficult days.
Last night's fall o'Jonas reminded me that God will often allow soft trips in the grass, if it helps us to avoid death in the street.
He will allow a heartache if it will prevent a mistake that can't be taken back. He will allow a disappointment if it will prevent a lifelong regret. He will allow a failure if it will prevent us from falling away from Him.
When I look at myself and my circumstances, I see some hard stuff. When I look at Him and His goodness, I see only situations that will arise to bring Him glory.
At this particular park, we typically park on the street because its parking lot is on another planet.
We played, we swung, we had a mah-velous time.
As the time came to leave, my boys took off running toward the car. My competitive boys were racing because, of course. As they got closer to the car, I realized that while Finn knows well enough to stop at the car and not run into the road, Jonas may not.
The worst case scenario ran quickly through my mind and my 35 1/2 week pregnant body started trying to walk a little bit faster. Let's be honest, I hadn't moved that quickly in weeks.
Before I could trick my body into a full blown trot, a beautiful thing happened.
Jonas fell.
I caught up to him quickly, picked him up, and wiped his tears. As I did these things, I thanked God that my son had fallen.
Because even though he had gotten a little hurt, it could have been so much worse.
He fell in the soft grass when he could have fallen on the harsh and unforgiving pavement of the street. I hate even going there in my mind, but he could have been hit by a car.
He suffered a minor wound and was spared a potentially mortal one. That fall, however unpleasant, was a blessing.
Naturally, it made me think about how God allows negative things into our lives. Because He is all good and all loving, it is vital to see our own falls in the grass as pockets of grace that save us from far worse fates.
These past few months have not been the easiest our family has ever seen. There have been stressors of many kinds: financial, physical, emotional, spiritual. It has been easy to become discouraged and beaten down.
Then I remind myself of Who God is: in His very nature He makes no mistakes and everything that comes from Him is overflowing with love, and I cannot despise these difficult days.
Last night's fall o'Jonas reminded me that God will often allow soft trips in the grass, if it helps us to avoid death in the street.
He will allow a heartache if it will prevent a mistake that can't be taken back. He will allow a disappointment if it will prevent a lifelong regret. He will allow a failure if it will prevent us from falling away from Him.
When I look at myself and my circumstances, I see some hard stuff. When I look at Him and His goodness, I see only situations that will arise to bring Him glory.
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.
Tuesday, May 26, 2015
It's A.....(gender reveal)
So you're pregnant with your 3rd baby?
The questions immediately start rolling in, and the most notorious is definitely:
"So, do you have any preference whether it is a boy or a girl?"
I am a terrible liar. Every single thing I feel shows up all over my face, so I don't even bother trying to pull one over on people. I answer:
"I would absolutely love a daughter. I've always wanted a daughter!!"
No shame about coming right out and saying it, no use giving the PC answer. God knows the desires of my heart and I really don't feel badly about stating them out loud.
To be supremely honest, I wanted a daughter when we were pregnant with Finn. I wanted a daughter when we were pregnant with Jonas.
I wanted to buy sweet dresses and bows. I wanted to play Barbies and dolls in lieu of trucks and trains. I wanted a daughter I could be so close with as she grew older and I could walk her through her complicated emotions and absurd hormones. I wanted a daughter that when she's young is content to sit in my lap rather than run around exerting energy like my big boys, and when she's older could sit and have long, deep conversations with me. I am fairly certain that I do not desire to be pregnant again, therefore this is our final chance!!
There were 3 separate people that spoke into us that we were having a girl.
I felt like God laid a name for a daughter on my heart.
Yet......it's a boy!
Let me say 100% honestly up front that as I was looking at that sweet boy today on ultrasound, I felt nothing but complete love for him. I am already aching to hold him in my arms. He is so amazing and I cherish every single kick that I feel him give me.
Even though with Finn and Jonas I began the pregnancy desiring daughters, something always switched in my heart before the ultrasound. I peacefully was ready to hear the ultrasound tech say "It's a boy!" Because of that, there was never a shred of disappointment. In His mercy, He prepared me.
Today was not quite like that. I really expected the opposite report. And we all know how expectations can complicate things!
I write this all as a way of processing...maybe it's a mistake to write it all down when my emotions are so raw. But again, I figure in the days to come it's going to be making it's way around anyway, and there's me with my face that gives my heart away. So I lay it all out here.
The disappointment is real. I don't think that our disappointments surprise God or mar His love for us.
I truly believe He gets it. He understands layers deeper than anything I ever could.
And this is just one day on the journey of 1,000 steps. It may take awhile to work it all out. Yet this I call to mind and therefore I have hope:
He knows exactly what we need. He knows exactly what He's doing. He is ever faithful and always so, so good. He loves me and cares about the fact that my heart is a little broken today at what seems like the death of a long-held hope and desire. I can say with absolute certainty that I trust His will; this disappointment is only for a day and I know that one day I will see His absolute gracious provision in blessing us with 3 amazing, astounding boys.
One day. Today is for processing and embracing His perfect plan.
I remember my sophomore year of college when I was dating a guy who I thought was the whole package. When he broke up with me, I remember feeling so devastated and embarrassed that I literally hid out in my dorm room for two days. I was not prepared to talk about it at all, even with my best friend and roommate. It was the end of a hope and desire then, too.
And now, at 13 years past that experience, I wish I could go back and whisper in 20 year old Gretchen's ear: "It's okay. This is more than okay. It is a victory and a gift that this relationship ended. God has so much more ahead for you. Let this hope die and accept and trust the heart of your Father who works all things for good. There is a new hope ahead that will kick this hope's butt. Trust and take His hand!"
I cling to that today as I accept what looks to be the ending of this hope for a daughter. I am letting go of my desires in order to better hold onto what God has ahead for me. Somehow, I think future-Gretchen wishes she could whisper to me of all of the wonderful things that God has on this journey ahead.
The questions immediately start rolling in, and the most notorious is definitely:
"So, do you have any preference whether it is a boy or a girl?"
I am a terrible liar. Every single thing I feel shows up all over my face, so I don't even bother trying to pull one over on people. I answer:
"I would absolutely love a daughter. I've always wanted a daughter!!"
No shame about coming right out and saying it, no use giving the PC answer. God knows the desires of my heart and I really don't feel badly about stating them out loud.
To be supremely honest, I wanted a daughter when we were pregnant with Finn. I wanted a daughter when we were pregnant with Jonas.
I wanted to buy sweet dresses and bows. I wanted to play Barbies and dolls in lieu of trucks and trains. I wanted a daughter I could be so close with as she grew older and I could walk her through her complicated emotions and absurd hormones. I wanted a daughter that when she's young is content to sit in my lap rather than run around exerting energy like my big boys, and when she's older could sit and have long, deep conversations with me. I am fairly certain that I do not desire to be pregnant again, therefore this is our final chance!!
There were 3 separate people that spoke into us that we were having a girl.
I felt like God laid a name for a daughter on my heart.
Yet......it's a boy!
Let me say 100% honestly up front that as I was looking at that sweet boy today on ultrasound, I felt nothing but complete love for him. I am already aching to hold him in my arms. He is so amazing and I cherish every single kick that I feel him give me.
Even though with Finn and Jonas I began the pregnancy desiring daughters, something always switched in my heart before the ultrasound. I peacefully was ready to hear the ultrasound tech say "It's a boy!" Because of that, there was never a shred of disappointment. In His mercy, He prepared me.
Today was not quite like that. I really expected the opposite report. And we all know how expectations can complicate things!
I write this all as a way of processing...maybe it's a mistake to write it all down when my emotions are so raw. But again, I figure in the days to come it's going to be making it's way around anyway, and there's me with my face that gives my heart away. So I lay it all out here.
The disappointment is real. I don't think that our disappointments surprise God or mar His love for us.
I truly believe He gets it. He understands layers deeper than anything I ever could.
And this is just one day on the journey of 1,000 steps. It may take awhile to work it all out. Yet this I call to mind and therefore I have hope:
He knows exactly what we need. He knows exactly what He's doing. He is ever faithful and always so, so good. He loves me and cares about the fact that my heart is a little broken today at what seems like the death of a long-held hope and desire. I can say with absolute certainty that I trust His will; this disappointment is only for a day and I know that one day I will see His absolute gracious provision in blessing us with 3 amazing, astounding boys.
One day. Today is for processing and embracing His perfect plan.
I remember my sophomore year of college when I was dating a guy who I thought was the whole package. When he broke up with me, I remember feeling so devastated and embarrassed that I literally hid out in my dorm room for two days. I was not prepared to talk about it at all, even with my best friend and roommate. It was the end of a hope and desire then, too.
And now, at 13 years past that experience, I wish I could go back and whisper in 20 year old Gretchen's ear: "It's okay. This is more than okay. It is a victory and a gift that this relationship ended. God has so much more ahead for you. Let this hope die and accept and trust the heart of your Father who works all things for good. There is a new hope ahead that will kick this hope's butt. Trust and take His hand!"
I cling to that today as I accept what looks to be the ending of this hope for a daughter. I am letting go of my desires in order to better hold onto what God has ahead for me. Somehow, I think future-Gretchen wishes she could whisper to me of all of the wonderful things that God has on this journey ahead.
Monday, March 16, 2015
On Rejection
For years and years and years, as long as I can remember really, I have had this insecurity complex where I brace to be rejected. I had this feeling that unless someone explicitly shows they like me, they probably don't.
If someone didn't specifically tell me I was doing a good job, I assumed I wasn't meeting their expectations or was letting them down.
Even further, if someone actually rejected me, even jokingly, I took it hard.
I cowered in the face of rejection.
Please like me. Please, please like me.
At times this has led me to extreme perfectionism. Because you can't get hurt if you do it best, right?At times it has led me to extreme apathy. Because you can't fail if you don't even try, right?
I don't know if I even really realized this about myself until the last year or so. I just thought I was super sensitive. I was going through some really personal battles, and by praying and studying and listening, I discovered a deep root of rejection in my life.
As has been typical since I became a mother, I have recently become privy to how rejection affects me in my most important role of being a mother. We bring our baggage everywhere, especially into parenthood.
My relationships with my two sweet boys are pretty different. From the time Finn was born, I absolutely loved him. I couldn't wait until the moments when he got older and would cry when I left. I stated on numerous occasions that I wanted to be his #1 person; I was his mommy after all. But Finn didn't show his love for me in the way for which I was longing. He was typically happy to leave my side, especially if he was staying with one of his grandmas. He lit up whenever Matt walked into the room, but not usually when I would. He was used to me. I think he maybe cried once when I dropped him off at nursery, but otherwise he was like, "See ya, mommy! I'ma gonna play!"
Because he didn't show his love for me in the way that I was expecting/hoping, the slightest feeling of rejection from him rocked me. I didn't feel loved, and what kind of mother isn't loved by her own child??? When he would openly prefer someone else, I would feel humiliated. The first time he said he didn't like me upon being disciplined, I shattered. When I would go to pick him up and he would cry to stay where he was, I would bite my lip and try to wait until I got to the car to cry. I felt unloved and unwanted, by my child. Children are supposed to fill our love holes....right?
It's tough acknowledging my frailty in these memories. It's tough to document.
On the other hand, Jonas has always preferred me. Even as a newborn, he clearly wanted me more than anyone else. He lights up when he sees me and looks for me before anyone else. He bawls when I drop him off at the nursery. He always, always comes to me when he gets hurt and needs comfort. He loves me the way I always expected my child would.
But.
A few weeks ago, Matt's mom watched the boys while Matt and I helped with the women's conference at our church. It wasn't until last week, however, that I saw a note hanging on the fridge:
My heart lit up. "He thinks that about me?! Wow!" I had no clue that Finn felt that way about me. It touched my heart more than I can really express. It may seem small, but that kind of indicates how much I needed to hear something positive. I feel like a failure much of the time.
When I mother from a place of rejection, or trying not to feel rejected, it doesn't inspire affection in my children. My kids are going to show they love me by their own unique personalities. Jonas is social and effusive - ask anyone. Finn is shy at first and then blossoms.
It is impossible to compare the two - each so different, each so special.
I truly believe that both of my boys love me and look to me as their safe place, they just show it in different ways. It's taken awhile to get there, but get there I did. I am learning to operate from a place of believing that I am loved.
When I mother from a place of knowing, truly knowing, that I am loved, it frees me up. I don't need to try to earn their love, because it's all mine already. I don't need to prove myself worthy as a mother; God has made me a mother, therefore I am anointed to be a mother. I am still learning confidence in mothering, but I can say this - the more confident I am, the more confident, secure, and stable my boys are. I've seen it.
Entering our relationships from a place of insecurity always leads us down a road where nothing will ever be good enough. No affirmative word will last long enough. No quality time will be perfect enough. No gift will be thoughtful enough.
I remember when Matt and I were dating and I felt insecure in our relationship, afraid of being rejected. I couldn't wait to have a ring on my finger to prove to others (and myself) that this wonderful man really did want me. But then as soon as we were engaged, I started counting down the days until we were married. Because you see, if it was legal, then there was no getting out it for him!!
It was three months into our marriage when I started getting hit hard with insomnia and anxiety. Looking back, I know that a big part of the anxiety for me was - once again - fearing that he wouldn't want me anymore if I fell apart on him. Well, fall apart I did. And yet - he still wanted me. He still pursued my broken heart. He was steady in all of my unsteadiness.
That year taught me that Matt can see me at my lowest.....and still love me. Because of that year, I know that Matt will stick with me through it all. My insecurity in our relationship slowly dissipated. I was no longer waiting to be rejected.
When I relate to others from a place of brokenness, it only begets more brokenness. It breeds insecurity and jealousy and striving for my selfish ambitions. I constantly try to protect myself.
WONDROUS NEWS!!!! I can relate to them from the place of fullness that Christ offers me - I do not need them to fill me because, honey, I'm full. Let me pour out. I can know that I'm not enough on my own but I'm enough in Jesus. Let me be available when you need me, I can be there.
This is when I have the joy to do the tough task set before me. I have peace that I am doing a good job and don't need nearly as much outward approval.
1 John 3:18-22 :"My dear children, let's not just talk about love; let's practice real love. This is the only way we'll know we're living truly, living in God's reality. It's also the way to shut down debilitating self-criticism, even when there is something to it. For God is greater than our worried hearts and knows more about us than we do ourselves. And friends, once that's taken care of and we're no longer accusing or condemning ourselves, we're bold and free before God!! We're able to stretch our hands out and receive what we asked for because we're doing what he said, doing what please him." MSG
If someone didn't specifically tell me I was doing a good job, I assumed I wasn't meeting their expectations or was letting them down.
Even further, if someone actually rejected me, even jokingly, I took it hard.
I cowered in the face of rejection.
Please like me. Please, please like me.
At times this has led me to extreme perfectionism. Because you can't get hurt if you do it best, right?At times it has led me to extreme apathy. Because you can't fail if you don't even try, right?
I don't know if I even really realized this about myself until the last year or so. I just thought I was super sensitive. I was going through some really personal battles, and by praying and studying and listening, I discovered a deep root of rejection in my life.
As has been typical since I became a mother, I have recently become privy to how rejection affects me in my most important role of being a mother. We bring our baggage everywhere, especially into parenthood.
My relationships with my two sweet boys are pretty different. From the time Finn was born, I absolutely loved him. I couldn't wait until the moments when he got older and would cry when I left. I stated on numerous occasions that I wanted to be his #1 person; I was his mommy after all. But Finn didn't show his love for me in the way for which I was longing. He was typically happy to leave my side, especially if he was staying with one of his grandmas. He lit up whenever Matt walked into the room, but not usually when I would. He was used to me. I think he maybe cried once when I dropped him off at nursery, but otherwise he was like, "See ya, mommy! I'ma gonna play!"
Because he didn't show his love for me in the way that I was expecting/hoping, the slightest feeling of rejection from him rocked me. I didn't feel loved, and what kind of mother isn't loved by her own child??? When he would openly prefer someone else, I would feel humiliated. The first time he said he didn't like me upon being disciplined, I shattered. When I would go to pick him up and he would cry to stay where he was, I would bite my lip and try to wait until I got to the car to cry. I felt unloved and unwanted, by my child. Children are supposed to fill our love holes....right?
It's tough acknowledging my frailty in these memories. It's tough to document.
On the other hand, Jonas has always preferred me. Even as a newborn, he clearly wanted me more than anyone else. He lights up when he sees me and looks for me before anyone else. He bawls when I drop him off at the nursery. He always, always comes to me when he gets hurt and needs comfort. He loves me the way I always expected my child would.
But.
A few weeks ago, Matt's mom watched the boys while Matt and I helped with the women's conference at our church. It wasn't until last week, however, that I saw a note hanging on the fridge:
My heart lit up. "He thinks that about me?! Wow!" I had no clue that Finn felt that way about me. It touched my heart more than I can really express. It may seem small, but that kind of indicates how much I needed to hear something positive. I feel like a failure much of the time.
When I mother from a place of rejection, or trying not to feel rejected, it doesn't inspire affection in my children. My kids are going to show they love me by their own unique personalities. Jonas is social and effusive - ask anyone. Finn is shy at first and then blossoms.
It is impossible to compare the two - each so different, each so special.
I truly believe that both of my boys love me and look to me as their safe place, they just show it in different ways. It's taken awhile to get there, but get there I did. I am learning to operate from a place of believing that I am loved.
When I mother from a place of knowing, truly knowing, that I am loved, it frees me up. I don't need to try to earn their love, because it's all mine already. I don't need to prove myself worthy as a mother; God has made me a mother, therefore I am anointed to be a mother. I am still learning confidence in mothering, but I can say this - the more confident I am, the more confident, secure, and stable my boys are. I've seen it.
Entering our relationships from a place of insecurity always leads us down a road where nothing will ever be good enough. No affirmative word will last long enough. No quality time will be perfect enough. No gift will be thoughtful enough.
I remember when Matt and I were dating and I felt insecure in our relationship, afraid of being rejected. I couldn't wait to have a ring on my finger to prove to others (and myself) that this wonderful man really did want me. But then as soon as we were engaged, I started counting down the days until we were married. Because you see, if it was legal, then there was no getting out it for him!!
It was three months into our marriage when I started getting hit hard with insomnia and anxiety. Looking back, I know that a big part of the anxiety for me was - once again - fearing that he wouldn't want me anymore if I fell apart on him. Well, fall apart I did. And yet - he still wanted me. He still pursued my broken heart. He was steady in all of my unsteadiness.
That year taught me that Matt can see me at my lowest.....and still love me. Because of that year, I know that Matt will stick with me through it all. My insecurity in our relationship slowly dissipated. I was no longer waiting to be rejected.
When I relate to others from a place of brokenness, it only begets more brokenness. It breeds insecurity and jealousy and striving for my selfish ambitions. I constantly try to protect myself.
WONDROUS NEWS!!!! I can relate to them from the place of fullness that Christ offers me - I do not need them to fill me because, honey, I'm full. Let me pour out. I can know that I'm not enough on my own but I'm enough in Jesus. Let me be available when you need me, I can be there.
This is when I have the joy to do the tough task set before me. I have peace that I am doing a good job and don't need nearly as much outward approval.
1 John 3:18-22 :"My dear children, let's not just talk about love; let's practice real love. This is the only way we'll know we're living truly, living in God's reality. It's also the way to shut down debilitating self-criticism, even when there is something to it. For God is greater than our worried hearts and knows more about us than we do ourselves. And friends, once that's taken care of and we're no longer accusing or condemning ourselves, we're bold and free before God!! We're able to stretch our hands out and receive what we asked for because we're doing what he said, doing what please him." MSG
Sunday, November 2, 2014
- Wait for It -
Two years ago, Halloween was difficult for me. There was a huge party at our church and we had gotten the CUTEST costume for Finn - a monkey for our monkey.
However, I could not take him because I had class. I could not even consider skipping class because I had a presentation that evening. It was brutal to miss such a special night.
So, while I presented on things to remember when counseling Asian Americans, I longed to be with my monkey boy. My body was in a classroom in Vermillion, but my heart was with my boy at his first Halloween party. I rushed out of class and tried to make it to a bit of the party, but by the time I got there, my mom had already changed Finn out of his costume because it was making him so warm. I did not get to see him in his costume on Halloween. I didn't even get a picture!
It was possibly the most difficult night of that whole semester for me, but I knew that I had to push through and finish my classes. It was simply a sacrifice that had to be made. It was one year. I could miss some stuff for one year while finishing my degree. That's what I told myself, but I didn't always believe me. I wanted to be with my boy.
By the time the next Halloween rolled around, I was so stinking excited to go with my boys (I had two by then) that I watched the calendar days pass with eager anticipation, praying that no one would get sick.
We arrived at the church early that night so that the boys could see their dad for a bit before the party really got started. As Matt is employed at the church, he always has jobs to do throughout the event and couldn't help much with the boys.
Once Matt had to leave, I went up to his office so that I could nurse Jonas and get both boys dressed in their costumes. As I was working trying to get them both dressed and keep them content, a single thought crossed my mind.............
"This is haaard. Have I really been waiting a year for this? When does the fun start?"
Did I really wait a year to finagle the boys into their costumes, have Jonas spit up on his 30 minutes later, have my own half-hearted costume destroyed by the end of the night, carry Jonas around for 3+ hours without a break, watch Finn spend almost 2 hours on the same blow-up slide only to then walk around in his Superman t-shirt and bare feet when he got too hot, and get a headache from my obnoxious '80's hairdo?
Yes!!!!!
This past year was better, thanks to a massive assist from Matt's mom. But still, I was pooped by the end of the night. Chasing two toddlers around a big church filled with lots of exciting things is, in a word, exhausting. It's so, so fun, but it's also hard.
I realize the older that I get that the hard stuff is the good stuff. Anything worth anything is going to be worth some sort of battle.
Marriages, dream jobs, sweet and respectful children, good relationships........
all of these things take hard work and committment. Some days it may not all seem to be truly worth it.
But what we value is shown by what we fight for.
We are tenacious with those things that we are passionate about.
So was the Halloween wait worth it for me when it proved to be a lot of work? Two years in a row?
Absotutely-rutely.
The look on Finn's face as he tackled each new inflatable with non-relinquishing gusto.
Getting to see Jonas wear the monkey costume that I missed seeing on Finn.
Watching other adorable kids in their costumes and seeing that this outreach was a blessing to the community.
The hard stuff is the good stuff.
The good stuff is haaaaaaard.
But oh so very worth it.
I think that God often allows a waiting time into our lives before we get something that we truly desire. Since the good stuff CAN be hard at times, we are less likely to take it for granted or wish it away if we had to wait and pine for it before we received it.
Paul comes to my mind; Paul and his desire to visit Rome. Paul longed to visit Rome and encourage them. He writes to the Roman church in Romans 1:10-12 - "And God, whom I so love to worship and serve by spreading the good news of his Son-the Message!-knows that every time I think of you in my prayers, which is practically all the time, I ask him to clear the way for me to come and see you. The longer this waiting goes on, the deeper the ache. I so want to be there to deliver God's gift in person and watch you grow stronger right before my eyes!"
It is safe to say that Paul yearned to visit the Roman church, but he states in verse 13 that "something has always come up and prevented it".
It is so tempting to start shaking a mighty finger at God when we feel as though we have been waiting too long.
It was tempting to do that when I was missing Halloween night with my Finn two years ago. "This is a big event in his life, God! Why tonight? I HATE SCHOOOOOOOL!!!!" (I don't really, but I am known to be a little dramatic when my emotions get stirred).
And that is just one example of many. There are many bigger, tougher things for which to wait. It was tough being single and waiting to meet Matt. It was tough finishing my internship and waiting for that blissful graduation date. There have been tough times waiting for a good job, relational healing, God to speak. The list could go on and on and is unique for each person.
But in my experience with waiting, I have come to know a few things. God is amazingly faithful. I see when I look back in retrospect the beauty of His ways and why He works like He does. God doesn't move when I want Him to, He moves when He needs to. He does not withhold things from me that are necessary for His plans. His ways are good and trustworthy, even when they make zero sense to me.
I don't have to make sense of God. I need to trust Him.
"Then the Lord replied: 'Write down the revelation and make it plain on tablets so that a herald may run with it. For the revelation awaits an appointed time; it speaks of the end and will not prove false. Though it linger, wait for it; it will certainly come and will not delay.'" (Habakkuk 2:2-3)
I also have come to see the tenderness of God in restoring what has been lost. Even being able to see Jonas in the monkey costume was so sweet for me. It will never replace not seeing Finn in it or not celebrating that night with him, but there was a redemptive quality to passing the costume on and watching that monkey butt waddle around the entire church.
I even see it within our greater family. My brother Matt was killed in a car accident when he was 22 years old. Our family now has two more Matts in it, plus two sweet first-borns with Matthew as a middle name. The fact that our family is so laughably exploding with boys (my mom just became a grandmother to her 8th grandson) screams to me about God's love and mercy. This bounty of boys will never replace the one that was lost, but there is a restorative healing that comes when we embrace the many that we have now.
However, I could not take him because I had class. I could not even consider skipping class because I had a presentation that evening. It was brutal to miss such a special night.
So, while I presented on things to remember when counseling Asian Americans, I longed to be with my monkey boy. My body was in a classroom in Vermillion, but my heart was with my boy at his first Halloween party. I rushed out of class and tried to make it to a bit of the party, but by the time I got there, my mom had already changed Finn out of his costume because it was making him so warm. I did not get to see him in his costume on Halloween. I didn't even get a picture!
It was possibly the most difficult night of that whole semester for me, but I knew that I had to push through and finish my classes. It was simply a sacrifice that had to be made. It was one year. I could miss some stuff for one year while finishing my degree. That's what I told myself, but I didn't always believe me. I wanted to be with my boy.
By the time the next Halloween rolled around, I was so stinking excited to go with my boys (I had two by then) that I watched the calendar days pass with eager anticipation, praying that no one would get sick.
We arrived at the church early that night so that the boys could see their dad for a bit before the party really got started. As Matt is employed at the church, he always has jobs to do throughout the event and couldn't help much with the boys.
Once Matt had to leave, I went up to his office so that I could nurse Jonas and get both boys dressed in their costumes. As I was working trying to get them both dressed and keep them content, a single thought crossed my mind.............
"This is haaard. Have I really been waiting a year for this? When does the fun start?"
Did I really wait a year to finagle the boys into their costumes, have Jonas spit up on his 30 minutes later, have my own half-hearted costume destroyed by the end of the night, carry Jonas around for 3+ hours without a break, watch Finn spend almost 2 hours on the same blow-up slide only to then walk around in his Superman t-shirt and bare feet when he got too hot, and get a headache from my obnoxious '80's hairdo?
Yes!!!!!
This past year was better, thanks to a massive assist from Matt's mom. But still, I was pooped by the end of the night. Chasing two toddlers around a big church filled with lots of exciting things is, in a word, exhausting. It's so, so fun, but it's also hard.
I realize the older that I get that the hard stuff is the good stuff. Anything worth anything is going to be worth some sort of battle.
Marriages, dream jobs, sweet and respectful children, good relationships........
all of these things take hard work and committment. Some days it may not all seem to be truly worth it.
But what we value is shown by what we fight for.
We are tenacious with those things that we are passionate about.
So was the Halloween wait worth it for me when it proved to be a lot of work? Two years in a row?
Absotutely-rutely.
The look on Finn's face as he tackled each new inflatable with non-relinquishing gusto.
Getting to see Jonas wear the monkey costume that I missed seeing on Finn.
Watching other adorable kids in their costumes and seeing that this outreach was a blessing to the community.
The hard stuff is the good stuff.
The good stuff is haaaaaaard.
But oh so very worth it.
I think that God often allows a waiting time into our lives before we get something that we truly desire. Since the good stuff CAN be hard at times, we are less likely to take it for granted or wish it away if we had to wait and pine for it before we received it.
Paul comes to my mind; Paul and his desire to visit Rome. Paul longed to visit Rome and encourage them. He writes to the Roman church in Romans 1:10-12 - "And God, whom I so love to worship and serve by spreading the good news of his Son-the Message!-knows that every time I think of you in my prayers, which is practically all the time, I ask him to clear the way for me to come and see you. The longer this waiting goes on, the deeper the ache. I so want to be there to deliver God's gift in person and watch you grow stronger right before my eyes!"
It is safe to say that Paul yearned to visit the Roman church, but he states in verse 13 that "something has always come up and prevented it".
It is so tempting to start shaking a mighty finger at God when we feel as though we have been waiting too long.
It was tempting to do that when I was missing Halloween night with my Finn two years ago. "This is a big event in his life, God! Why tonight? I HATE SCHOOOOOOOL!!!!" (I don't really, but I am known to be a little dramatic when my emotions get stirred).
And that is just one example of many. There are many bigger, tougher things for which to wait. It was tough being single and waiting to meet Matt. It was tough finishing my internship and waiting for that blissful graduation date. There have been tough times waiting for a good job, relational healing, God to speak. The list could go on and on and is unique for each person.
But in my experience with waiting, I have come to know a few things. God is amazingly faithful. I see when I look back in retrospect the beauty of His ways and why He works like He does. God doesn't move when I want Him to, He moves when He needs to. He does not withhold things from me that are necessary for His plans. His ways are good and trustworthy, even when they make zero sense to me.
I don't have to make sense of God. I need to trust Him.
"Then the Lord replied: 'Write down the revelation and make it plain on tablets so that a herald may run with it. For the revelation awaits an appointed time; it speaks of the end and will not prove false. Though it linger, wait for it; it will certainly come and will not delay.'" (Habakkuk 2:2-3)
I also have come to see the tenderness of God in restoring what has been lost. Even being able to see Jonas in the monkey costume was so sweet for me. It will never replace not seeing Finn in it or not celebrating that night with him, but there was a redemptive quality to passing the costume on and watching that monkey butt waddle around the entire church.
I even see it within our greater family. My brother Matt was killed in a car accident when he was 22 years old. Our family now has two more Matts in it, plus two sweet first-borns with Matthew as a middle name. The fact that our family is so laughably exploding with boys (my mom just became a grandmother to her 8th grandson) screams to me about God's love and mercy. This bounty of boys will never replace the one that was lost, but there is a restorative healing that comes when we embrace the many that we have now.
The waiting is not wasted. Nothing is ever wasted in God's hand.
Romans 8:28 says, "And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose."
With that said, how do we know that we are waiting well?
Whatever you do have at this moment, be faithful with it. Take whatever you've been given and invest it (Matthew 25:14-30). Don't bury it and twiddle your thumbs, waiting for what you "really" want.
I think of Matt, who worked as a special education teacher for years before he stepped into a job he fully desired as a worship leader. I had a front row seat to see how God used those years of waiting to deepen Matt's relationship with Himself, to increase his skills, and broaden his support system. Those things have been essential to Matt's success as a worship leader because, newsflash: life in the ministry is not easy.
Matt did not idly sit around and long for a different job, but he made himself useful how he could and God ushered him into a great position at a time when God could receive the glory.
If you're single and waiting, stop giving energy to looking for the right one and use this waiting time to become the right one. Practice doing relationship well by valuing your friends and family and helping them feel loved.
Romans 8:28 says, "And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose."
With that said, how do we know that we are waiting well?
Whatever you do have at this moment, be faithful with it. Take whatever you've been given and invest it (Matthew 25:14-30). Don't bury it and twiddle your thumbs, waiting for what you "really" want.
I think of Matt, who worked as a special education teacher for years before he stepped into a job he fully desired as a worship leader. I had a front row seat to see how God used those years of waiting to deepen Matt's relationship with Himself, to increase his skills, and broaden his support system. Those things have been essential to Matt's success as a worship leader because, newsflash: life in the ministry is not easy.
Matt did not idly sit around and long for a different job, but he made himself useful how he could and God ushered him into a great position at a time when God could receive the glory.
If you're single and waiting, stop giving energy to looking for the right one and use this waiting time to become the right one. Practice doing relationship well by valuing your friends and family and helping them feel loved.
If you're waiting for that perfect job, be excellent at the one you already have.
If you are in a season of "stuckness" and don't know what's on the horizon or what you even want and you certainly don't know how to get there, invest the time by studying His Word and His ways. Then, whenever you do get to the next step, you'll be taking it in closer relationship with Him. There's no bad there.
"It's in the season of waiting where character is forged and refined. It's where we learn new skills, discover what we're passionate (and not passionate) about. Don't waste your wait." (Joel Delgado, Relevant Magazine).
If you are in a season of "stuckness" and don't know what's on the horizon or what you even want and you certainly don't know how to get there, invest the time by studying His Word and His ways. Then, whenever you do get to the next step, you'll be taking it in closer relationship with Him. There's no bad there.
"It's in the season of waiting where character is forged and refined. It's where we learn new skills, discover what we're passionate (and not passionate) about. Don't waste your wait." (Joel Delgado, Relevant Magazine).
Saturday, May 24, 2014
My Secret Identity
Before I was ever even conceived, my mom prayed for me. She prayed for one more daughter, one who would look cute in braids and whom she could name Gretchen. Gretchen was a name laid on my mom's heart before I ever existed.
In the Bible, especially in the Old Testament, a person's given name was their identity. A name was bestowed with thoughtfulness and heritage. When a child was named, it was sometimes a descriptor of the child at birth but most often a prophecy about what the child would become.
Genesis 25 tells of the naming of Esau and Jacob. Esau, so named because he was "red and hairy" at birth. Jacob, so named because he came out "grasping" at his brother's heel.
Ruth 1 describes the agony of Naomi, who after great tragedy purposefully changed her name from Naomi ("pleasant") to Mara ("bitter").
1 Samuel 1 tells how Hannah, after praying for a child for years, named her sweet child Samuel ("heard of God").
There are dozens of other examples.
Names give identity.
During the formative years of my life, I found my identity by being a part of a big, church-going family. We were the Swansons, ya'll! We were always at church, or at least that's what it felt like.
In the Bible, especially in the Old Testament, a person's given name was their identity. A name was bestowed with thoughtfulness and heritage. When a child was named, it was sometimes a descriptor of the child at birth but most often a prophecy about what the child would become.
Genesis 25 tells of the naming of Esau and Jacob. Esau, so named because he was "red and hairy" at birth. Jacob, so named because he came out "grasping" at his brother's heel.
Ruth 1 describes the agony of Naomi, who after great tragedy purposefully changed her name from Naomi ("pleasant") to Mara ("bitter").
1 Samuel 1 tells how Hannah, after praying for a child for years, named her sweet child Samuel ("heard of God").
There are dozens of other examples.
Names give identity.
During the formative years of my life, I found my identity by being a part of a big, church-going family. We were the Swansons, ya'll! We were always at church, or at least that's what it felt like.
Mom played the piano and Dad played the organ and we all sang.
I was the youngest, so I was endeared as the baby of the family. I was Little Sister and Youngest Daughter and I belonged. My mom had prayed to God specifically for me and I knew I was wanted and cherished.
And then, to some extent, my family fell apart.
My parents divorced. We moved houses again. We changed churches. Mom started working longer hours so that we had food in the pantry. Mom got remarried. My brother passed away. My other siblings moved away.
We were no longer infallible. We were destructible.
Largely because of that, my identity suffered. The who I had been vanished. With the changes in my world, I found unhealthy ways to deal with my emotions and I uncovered parts of myself that I did not like so very much. I had attitude for days and rolling my eyes was my signature move. I snapped at people a lot when I felt out of control. I was angry.
Seemingly suddenly, I was identifying only with the negative parts of myself: Selfish. Brat. Dramatic. I no longer felt like the beloved, cherished, desired daughter and sister.
I lived under the shadow of those words: Selfish. Brat. Dramatic. I believed them about myself, because they felt true. I aligned myself with those words, and because of that I felt stifling shame.
Until…
God began teaching me about my name. I've blogged about it before, so I don't need to rehash. Long story short,
Gretchen means pearl.
Pearls don't start out as much, just a simple grain of sand in a shell. Through irritation, a pearl is formed.
I may have began as a grain of sand, but through irritation, God could turn me into a pearl.
Something beautiful, something beloved.
Suddenly, I could identify with something positive about myself.
However, lately I have been struggling with feelings of insecurity that I thought had long ago been faced and dealt with. For the past few months, just when I think I've found a firm footing when it comes to how I feel about myself, the terrain shifts again and I'm flailing.
I was praying about my frustration and asking God what in the world was going on with me. Where did my confidence go? Where did my confidence IN HIM go?
And ever so gently, one question came to my mind:
"In what are you finding your identity?"
So I did some digging.
Sometimes I feel like I find my identity through my family - Mother. Wife. Sister. Daughter.
Sometimes I feel like I find my identity through my life's calling - Counselor. Pastor's Wife. Worshiper.
Sometimes I feel like I find my identity through my personality traits - Sensitive. Dramatic. Sarcastic.
As honorable and true as those things are, when they are the only ways I identify myself, I am basically begging to feel insecure.
Because each of those things are insecure. They are fallible and shakeable.
For instance…
It is true that I will always be a sister, but the picture of what that means changes far too often for me to define myself by it.
It is true that I will always be a worshiper, but if I lose my voice tomorrow it would change the way that I worship and my identity could suffer.
It is true that I will always be sensitive, but I've seen enough episodes of "Grey's Anatomy" to know that even that can be affected by a tiny tumor on the brain.
The hard truth is that even though we think we are defining ourselves with honorable, amazing, God-given things, when we find our whole identity through our relationships, or callings, or personality traits, we are aligning ourselves with things that are inconsistent or shakeable.
Like when I was a child and felt my identity completely wrapped within my family.
Families and life callings and personality traits fail us.
God cannot. Christ cannot.
When we find our identity in Him, we find an identity that cannot be shaken by circumstances.
Take a second and really think about that. We have an eternal security!!!!
This is exciting stuff here, folks.
When our identity is wrapped in God, we know that we are His. We belong.
When we know that we are His, we know that we are:
- His children (1 John 3:1, Hebrews 12:7, Galatians 3:26, Ephesians 5:1, Ephesians 1:4-5)
- Called (1 Peter 5:10, 1 Corinthians 7:17)
- Never alone or abandoned (Hebrews 13:5)
- Holy (Hebrews 10:10, Colossians 1:22)
- Saved (1 Thessalonians 5:9-10, Romans 10:9)
- Called to peace (Colossians 3:15)
- Provided for (Philippians 4:19, 2 Corinthians 9:8)
- A work in progress (Philippians 2:12-13, Philippians 3:12-14)
- Light (Ephesians 3:8)
- Family (Ephesians 2:19)
- Forgiven (Ephesians 1:7-8)
- Free (Galatians 5:1, 2 Corinthians 3:17)
- Heirs (Galatians 4:6-7)
- A new creation (2 Corinthians 5:17)
- Comforted (2 Corinthians 1:1-5)
- Loved ones (Hosea 2:23)
- More than conquerors (Romans 8:37)
- Known (Romans 8:26-27, Psalm 139)
And there is more…so much more!!
Find security in Him and watch all insecurity fall away.
"Lord, thank you.
I am not the mistakes I have made.
I am not the plans I have failed.
I am not the wrongs I have done.
I am not forgotten.
I am not abandoned.
I am not alone.
Because you say to the lost: come.
You say to the unlikely: beloved.
You say to the battle weary: rest.
In a hard and beautiful world, Your grade is the only pillowed relief for my tired soul.
To rest in Your making all things new."
- Ann Voskamp
I was the youngest, so I was endeared as the baby of the family. I was Little Sister and Youngest Daughter and I belonged. My mom had prayed to God specifically for me and I knew I was wanted and cherished.
And then, to some extent, my family fell apart.
My parents divorced. We moved houses again. We changed churches. Mom started working longer hours so that we had food in the pantry. Mom got remarried. My brother passed away. My other siblings moved away.
We were no longer infallible. We were destructible.
Largely because of that, my identity suffered. The who I had been vanished. With the changes in my world, I found unhealthy ways to deal with my emotions and I uncovered parts of myself that I did not like so very much. I had attitude for days and rolling my eyes was my signature move. I snapped at people a lot when I felt out of control. I was angry.
Seemingly suddenly, I was identifying only with the negative parts of myself: Selfish. Brat. Dramatic. I no longer felt like the beloved, cherished, desired daughter and sister.
I lived under the shadow of those words: Selfish. Brat. Dramatic. I believed them about myself, because they felt true. I aligned myself with those words, and because of that I felt stifling shame.
Until…
God began teaching me about my name. I've blogged about it before, so I don't need to rehash. Long story short,
Gretchen means pearl.
Pearls don't start out as much, just a simple grain of sand in a shell. Through irritation, a pearl is formed.
I may have began as a grain of sand, but through irritation, God could turn me into a pearl.
Something beautiful, something beloved.
Suddenly, I could identify with something positive about myself.
However, lately I have been struggling with feelings of insecurity that I thought had long ago been faced and dealt with. For the past few months, just when I think I've found a firm footing when it comes to how I feel about myself, the terrain shifts again and I'm flailing.
I was praying about my frustration and asking God what in the world was going on with me. Where did my confidence go? Where did my confidence IN HIM go?
And ever so gently, one question came to my mind:
"In what are you finding your identity?"
So I did some digging.
Sometimes I feel like I find my identity through my family - Mother. Wife. Sister. Daughter.
Sometimes I feel like I find my identity through my life's calling - Counselor. Pastor's Wife. Worshiper.
Sometimes I feel like I find my identity through my personality traits - Sensitive. Dramatic. Sarcastic.
As honorable and true as those things are, when they are the only ways I identify myself, I am basically begging to feel insecure.
Because each of those things are insecure. They are fallible and shakeable.
For instance…
It is true that I will always be a sister, but the picture of what that means changes far too often for me to define myself by it.
It is true that I will always be a worshiper, but if I lose my voice tomorrow it would change the way that I worship and my identity could suffer.
It is true that I will always be sensitive, but I've seen enough episodes of "Grey's Anatomy" to know that even that can be affected by a tiny tumor on the brain.
The hard truth is that even though we think we are defining ourselves with honorable, amazing, God-given things, when we find our whole identity through our relationships, or callings, or personality traits, we are aligning ourselves with things that are inconsistent or shakeable.
Like when I was a child and felt my identity completely wrapped within my family.
Families and life callings and personality traits fail us.
God cannot. Christ cannot.
When we find our identity in Him, we find an identity that cannot be shaken by circumstances.
Take a second and really think about that. We have an eternal security!!!!
This is exciting stuff here, folks.
When our identity is wrapped in God, we know that we are His. We belong.
When we know that we are His, we know that we are:
- His children (1 John 3:1, Hebrews 12:7, Galatians 3:26, Ephesians 5:1, Ephesians 1:4-5)
- Called (1 Peter 5:10, 1 Corinthians 7:17)
- Never alone or abandoned (Hebrews 13:5)
- Holy (Hebrews 10:10, Colossians 1:22)
- Saved (1 Thessalonians 5:9-10, Romans 10:9)
- Called to peace (Colossians 3:15)
- Provided for (Philippians 4:19, 2 Corinthians 9:8)
- A work in progress (Philippians 2:12-13, Philippians 3:12-14)
- Light (Ephesians 3:8)
- Family (Ephesians 2:19)
- Forgiven (Ephesians 1:7-8)
- Free (Galatians 5:1, 2 Corinthians 3:17)
- Heirs (Galatians 4:6-7)
- A new creation (2 Corinthians 5:17)
- Comforted (2 Corinthians 1:1-5)
- Loved ones (Hosea 2:23)
- More than conquerors (Romans 8:37)
- Known (Romans 8:26-27, Psalm 139)
And there is more…so much more!!
Find security in Him and watch all insecurity fall away.
"Lord, thank you.
I am not the mistakes I have made.
I am not the plans I have failed.
I am not the wrongs I have done.
I am not forgotten.
I am not abandoned.
I am not alone.
Because you say to the lost: come.
You say to the unlikely: beloved.
You say to the battle weary: rest.
In a hard and beautiful world, Your grade is the only pillowed relief for my tired soul.
To rest in Your making all things new."
- Ann Voskamp
Saturday, November 23, 2013
"Love, Mom"
My mom always made Christmas magical.
Not like Santa and flying reindeer magical.......
....but just super, super special.
Back when I was a little girl, I had no idea just how hard she worked to make it all happen.
She saved all year long in order to be able to buy us just the right things at Christmastime. Each gift was wrapped impeccably and had a different personalized tag on it: For "Gretchie-Ketchie-Netchie-Setchie-Betchie-Detchie" or "Grrrr-Nin" or "Gretchen Noelle".
"Love, Mom".
But it really wasn't about the gifts, even then. They were simply the icing on a Christmas-flavored cake (what does Christmas taste like, you say? Mint.....and egg nog......and love).
It was about the traditions that she birthed and fostered and tended every year. It was about all being together. It was about listening to Christmas music and reading Luke 2 as a family and eating caramel rolls in the morning. It was about taking turns opening gifts so we wouldn't miss anything and playing games and putting on plays about the nativity story.
Being the youngest child, the older I got, the further away my older siblings moved. However, nearly every year without fail, they each returned home. Christmas was our time to be together. So a house that had been quiet burst with joyful noise. The driveway filled up. The table became crowded. There wasn't a chance of getting to watch what you wanted on TV. It took about 2 days for all of us to start getting on each other's nerves............but wow, those first 2 days were pure bliss!
Not like Santa and flying reindeer magical.......
....but just super, super special.
Back when I was a little girl, I had no idea just how hard she worked to make it all happen.
She saved all year long in order to be able to buy us just the right things at Christmastime. Each gift was wrapped impeccably and had a different personalized tag on it: For "Gretchie-Ketchie-Netchie-Setchie-Betchie-Detchie" or "Grrrr-Nin" or "Gretchen Noelle".
"Love, Mom".
But it really wasn't about the gifts, even then. They were simply the icing on a Christmas-flavored cake (what does Christmas taste like, you say? Mint.....and egg nog......and love).
It was about the traditions that she birthed and fostered and tended every year. It was about all being together. It was about listening to Christmas music and reading Luke 2 as a family and eating caramel rolls in the morning. It was about taking turns opening gifts so we wouldn't miss anything and playing games and putting on plays about the nativity story.
Mom handmade each of our stockings, delighted in getting us matching pajamas, and made 5 different kinds of cookies every year because, well, we each had our own kind that we would sit and make with her of course! If baking cookies meant quality time with mom, we were there.
Being the youngest child, the older I got, the further away my older siblings moved. However, nearly every year without fail, they each returned home. Christmas was our time to be together. So a house that had been quiet burst with joyful noise. The driveway filled up. The table became crowded. There wasn't a chance of getting to watch what you wanted on TV. It took about 2 days for all of us to start getting on each other's nerves............but wow, those first 2 days were pure bliss!
This year as my own little family was decorating for Christmas, it hit me that this is the first year that Finn kind of "gets it". He loves anything to do with Christmas. He loves any movie with a Santa in it, wants our tree lit at all times, he lets out gasps of delight at seeing lights on others' houses, and He even calls snow "Christmas".
He also is beginning to know who Jesus is because we talk about how Jesus is with him at all times. Christmas isn't Christmas without Jesus.
With his new awareness, I feel a certain kind of pressure, a good pressure, to not only make Christmas special and memorable for my boys, but to also keep the discussion central on Jesus.
Because Jesus is cooler than Santa.
As much FUN as Christmas is, THIS is the time to begin teaching them:
"In your relationships with one another, have the same mindset as Christ Jesus:
Who, being in very nature God,
did not consider equality with God as something to be used to his own advantage;
rather he made himself nothing by taking the very nature of a servant,
being made in human likeness.
And being found in appearance as a man, he humbled himself by becoming obedient to death
- even death on a cross!
Therefore God exalted him to the highest place and
gave him the name that is above every name,
that at the name of Jesus every knee should bow,
in heaven and on earth and under the earth,
and every tongue acknowledge that Jesus Christ is Lord,
to the glory of God the Father."
- Philippians 2:5-11
My sweet, squishy boys: this is the most important thing that I could ever teach you.
Love, Mom.
Thursday, November 7, 2013
Christianese
I was born into a Christian family who literally lived at the church for the first few formative years of my life. If there was a service, we were there. If a member of our family was sick, we went anyway. We were often one of the first to arrive and most often the last to leave.
I have known God my whole life.
And except for a few rogue years in middle school, I have tried my best to be my best for Him.
I first asked Jesus into my heart when I was really little (like, so little that I don't remember).
I was baptized at the age of 7.
And I recommitted my life to God at the age of 14, sitting in the driveway with my mom.
My high school life consisted of hanging out with my youth group and a close circle of Christian friends at school.
I didn't realize it at the time, but I was wrestling hard with a judgmental spirit and a haughty attitude. I criticized others and puffed myself up for being a Christian.
My identity was not in Christ but in being a Christian.
All the while, what I thought was living righteously for God was actually breaking His heart.
I was raised in a Christian culture and I thrived. It was my niche and my Michael W. Smith serenaded "place in this world".
Recently I have watched a few videos about "Stuff Christians Say". There are several variations to these and I have to laugh when I watch them because, well, they're true.
There is a certain language, a "Christianese", that people speak when they grow up in church.
We talk about accountability and boundaries and blessing and kissing dating goodbye. These things roll off our tongues without much thought sometimes.
I know I am guilty of it.
For example, I used to be obsessed with the word secular.
In high school I sold a bunch of my cd's and movies because they were too "secular" and I felt convicted about them after a youth convention.
And I don't think it was wrong. I was trying my best to honor God, but I was doing it almost as much because it was the "good Christian" and "cool" thing to do. I was super Christian, after all.
But because my motives weren't entirely authentic, I eventually started listening to secular music again and watching those movies again.
Sidenote: I am not saying this to condemn secular music or to say that there isn't merit to listening to and acting on the sermons we hear; I am simply talking about my own experience.
Now, I don't listen to secular music because I honestly don't want to. There are songs (yes, heaven help me, even Miley Cyrus songs) that I like when I catch them on the radio. But I really just love worship music. It's what I want to listen to, it's what I want playing in my home and my car.
For me, the lasting change came about not because I heard a sermon once and felt convicted into obeying. It didn't come from an external source.
The lasting change came from the inside. It developed in my spirit, from an intimacy with God and therefore was absolutely natural and right for me.
Romans 14:22-23: "Cultivate your relationship with God, but don't impose it on others. You're fortunate if your behavior and your belief are coherent. But if you're not sure, if you notice that you are acting in ways that are inconsistent with what you believe - some days trying to impose your opinions on others, other days just trying to please them, then you know that you're out of line. If the way you live isn't consistent with what you believe, then it's wrong."
I guess what I am trying to say and why I am even writing about all of this...........is out of gratitude.
It is easy to simply exist in a culture, but I am just so stinking thankful that God didn't leave me in my judgmental, ignorantly striving, well-meaning state.
He allowed me the grace and room to learn what it really means to be a Christian: not pointing the finger but opening the arms; not hoarding 'experiences' but sharing the wealth; not only socializing with other Christians but reaching out to where the need is; not blindly obeying an authority figure but following the leading of the Holy Spirit within me.
Romans 12:9: "Love from the center of who you are, don't fake it."
I have known God my whole life.
And except for a few rogue years in middle school, I have tried my best to be my best for Him.
I first asked Jesus into my heart when I was really little (like, so little that I don't remember).
I was baptized at the age of 7.
And I recommitted my life to God at the age of 14, sitting in the driveway with my mom.
My high school life consisted of hanging out with my youth group and a close circle of Christian friends at school.
I didn't realize it at the time, but I was wrestling hard with a judgmental spirit and a haughty attitude. I criticized others and puffed myself up for being a Christian.
My identity was not in Christ but in being a Christian.
All the while, what I thought was living righteously for God was actually breaking His heart.
I was raised in a Christian culture and I thrived. It was my niche and my Michael W. Smith serenaded "place in this world".
Recently I have watched a few videos about "Stuff Christians Say". There are several variations to these and I have to laugh when I watch them because, well, they're true.
There is a certain language, a "Christianese", that people speak when they grow up in church.
We talk about accountability and boundaries and blessing and kissing dating goodbye. These things roll off our tongues without much thought sometimes.
I know I am guilty of it.
For example, I used to be obsessed with the word secular.
In high school I sold a bunch of my cd's and movies because they were too "secular" and I felt convicted about them after a youth convention.
And I don't think it was wrong. I was trying my best to honor God, but I was doing it almost as much because it was the "good Christian" and "cool" thing to do. I was super Christian, after all.
But because my motives weren't entirely authentic, I eventually started listening to secular music again and watching those movies again.
Sidenote: I am not saying this to condemn secular music or to say that there isn't merit to listening to and acting on the sermons we hear; I am simply talking about my own experience.
Now, I don't listen to secular music because I honestly don't want to. There are songs (yes, heaven help me, even Miley Cyrus songs) that I like when I catch them on the radio. But I really just love worship music. It's what I want to listen to, it's what I want playing in my home and my car.
For me, the lasting change came about not because I heard a sermon once and felt convicted into obeying. It didn't come from an external source.
The lasting change came from the inside. It developed in my spirit, from an intimacy with God and therefore was absolutely natural and right for me.
Romans 14:22-23: "Cultivate your relationship with God, but don't impose it on others. You're fortunate if your behavior and your belief are coherent. But if you're not sure, if you notice that you are acting in ways that are inconsistent with what you believe - some days trying to impose your opinions on others, other days just trying to please them, then you know that you're out of line. If the way you live isn't consistent with what you believe, then it's wrong."
I guess what I am trying to say and why I am even writing about all of this...........is out of gratitude.
It is easy to simply exist in a culture, but I am just so stinking thankful that God didn't leave me in my judgmental, ignorantly striving, well-meaning state.
He allowed me the grace and room to learn what it really means to be a Christian: not pointing the finger but opening the arms; not hoarding 'experiences' but sharing the wealth; not only socializing with other Christians but reaching out to where the need is; not blindly obeying an authority figure but following the leading of the Holy Spirit within me.
Romans 12:9: "Love from the center of who you are, don't fake it."
Wednesday, March 28, 2012
Pearl
Yesterday was a very important day for me - I had to see my inaugural client. Yes, I actually got to the point in my program where I get to counsel living, breathing people who are dealing with life.
I was so excited and nervous at the same time; I felt as though there was a load of responsibility on my shoulders, but at the same time it felt it belonged. It felt like the load that I had been expecting and hoping for the past few years as I have taken classes. It all felt right.
Before I left the house yesterday morning, I was trying to calm the butterflies fighting for attention in my belly. I happened to glance at my pearl ring and realized that it was just what I needed to help me.
My pearl ring is very special to me. I got it a couple of years ago for Christmas, and it was actually something that I had been wanting for awhile. I am not much of a jewelry adorner (except for my multitude of feather earrings :)) but I have always been drawn to pearl jewelry.
As cheesy as it sounds, it is because my name means "pearl".
Growing up, I always hated my name. I longed to be called by something cute and feminine - Nicki or Tiffany or Kelly Kapowski - something like that. There isn't a lot of room for cuteness or femininity in Gretchen.
But my mom had prayed for one more baby, a little girl that she could name Gretchen who would look cute in braids. She never even told my dad what they were naming me until after I was born - it was her little secret. Maybe she was afraid someone would try to talk her out of it? :)
I wore a lot of braids growing up.
I didn't really start to embrace my "Gretchen-osity" until I was in my early 20's. It was then that I really latched onto the meaning of my name. Pearl. That which starts as an irritant invading an oyster's shell, becomes a lovely pearl. At that time in my life, I was trying to define who I was and why I was. Embracing my name meaning was a part of that, as it made me feel that if I could learn to welcome the irritants of life, they would work me into something beautiful......eventually.
It was for that very reason that when we were looking at baby names, I was dead set on finding names that meant something. We decided on Finn not only because we love the name, but also because it means small, fair soldier. I remember that when we first saw his ultrasound picture and decided he would be Finn, Matt said, "David was a small soldier too!". Every time I would get anxious about his well-being in my ever-expanding belly, I would tell myself, "No! He is a soldier, a fighter; he is just fine!"
So anyway, I like pearls. When I see a pearl, it reminds me that I am still being made beautiful.
As I was gearing up for my client session, I would touch my pearl ring and remember who I am and that I am called to do this very thing: listen, help, encourage.
There's a certain peace that comes in knowing I am doing what I am meant to do.
I was so excited and nervous at the same time; I felt as though there was a load of responsibility on my shoulders, but at the same time it felt it belonged. It felt like the load that I had been expecting and hoping for the past few years as I have taken classes. It all felt right.
Before I left the house yesterday morning, I was trying to calm the butterflies fighting for attention in my belly. I happened to glance at my pearl ring and realized that it was just what I needed to help me.
My pearl ring is very special to me. I got it a couple of years ago for Christmas, and it was actually something that I had been wanting for awhile. I am not much of a jewelry adorner (except for my multitude of feather earrings :)) but I have always been drawn to pearl jewelry.
As cheesy as it sounds, it is because my name means "pearl".
Growing up, I always hated my name. I longed to be called by something cute and feminine - Nicki or Tiffany or Kelly Kapowski - something like that. There isn't a lot of room for cuteness or femininity in Gretchen.
But my mom had prayed for one more baby, a little girl that she could name Gretchen who would look cute in braids. She never even told my dad what they were naming me until after I was born - it was her little secret. Maybe she was afraid someone would try to talk her out of it? :)
I wore a lot of braids growing up.
I didn't really start to embrace my "Gretchen-osity" until I was in my early 20's. It was then that I really latched onto the meaning of my name. Pearl. That which starts as an irritant invading an oyster's shell, becomes a lovely pearl. At that time in my life, I was trying to define who I was and why I was. Embracing my name meaning was a part of that, as it made me feel that if I could learn to welcome the irritants of life, they would work me into something beautiful......eventually.
It was for that very reason that when we were looking at baby names, I was dead set on finding names that meant something. We decided on Finn not only because we love the name, but also because it means small, fair soldier. I remember that when we first saw his ultrasound picture and decided he would be Finn, Matt said, "David was a small soldier too!". Every time I would get anxious about his well-being in my ever-expanding belly, I would tell myself, "No! He is a soldier, a fighter; he is just fine!"
So anyway, I like pearls. When I see a pearl, it reminds me that I am still being made beautiful.
As I was gearing up for my client session, I would touch my pearl ring and remember who I am and that I am called to do this very thing: listen, help, encourage.
There's a certain peace that comes in knowing I am doing what I am meant to do.
Thursday, December 29, 2011
Christmas Recovery
As a self-proclaimed holiday lover, is it okay to say, here at the end of the season................phew!?
This has been a wonderful Thanksgiving/Christmas/holiday conglomeration. But it feels like life has been in super-powered Flash speed (that one is for you, Matt!) since mid-November. Some favorite moments from the past few weeks include (but are not limited to):
This has been a wonderful Thanksgiving/Christmas/holiday conglomeration. But it feels like life has been in super-powered Flash speed (that one is for you, Matt!) since mid-November. Some favorite moments from the past few weeks include (but are not limited to):
* Watching this:
* Picking out the 2011 family tree:
* Getting an 'A' in Appraisal
* More time to sing with that bearded guy on the right:
* Christmas Eve dinner at Rentschler's with Missy and Bruce
* Jake's Pizza with the Fjerkenstads.....even if we couldn't eat it there!
* Laughing through Dutch Blitz with Matt, Ann and Nate
With all of these amazing memories, it is hard to admit that I am glad that it is all over. But as I sit here with the Christmas tree lit up for one of the last times, with my husband on the couch beside me; with Pizza Hut in my belly and having finally had time to watch "Crazy, Stupid, Love", which I have been wanting to see for months, I can honestly say PHEW!
We are blessed that Matt has the next week off. With the past few months of Matt filling in as interim worship leader, our quality time has been dwindled. That hasn't been easy for this quality time love language girl. But having the next few days stretch before us blissfully unscheduled (for the most part), is a gift of great value - greater than any Christmas gift received this year for certain.
And as this year inches towards its conclusion and a new one dawns, it is humbling and exciting and a bit terrifying to admit that I have no idea what it will hold.
But some things will be definite in the coming year: there are decisions to be made and prayers to be prayed. There are hugs and kisses to give and apologies to be made. There are trials to enjoy and joys to savor. There are literally thousands of reasons to be thankful.
This past year has been one of the most amazing of my entire life.
I can't wait to see what lies on the horizon of this new year!
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