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Becoming Real

Aug 3rd, 2009 by Amy

Recently (as in the past six years) I have rediscovered a whole new genre of literary masterpieces.  I’ve enjoyed many-a-book throughout my life:  Great big picture books as a child, the works of Emily Bronte, Jeanette Oke and Charles Dickens as a teenager, and in adulthood it has become more and more about paperback volumes on Spiritual development, marriage and parenting.  However, these days I have three pairs of eager little ears that love to sit and listen to the adventures of the Pokey Little Puppy and the Hiccupotomus.  Through the eyes and ears of my own children my senses have been awakened once more to the profound lessons and deep undertones that many of these books hold within their colorful pages.  One book in particular has caught my attention as of late:  The Velveteen Rabbit.

 

In my quest to be real and authentic, I have committed myself to bare my soul, my thoughts, my ups and my downs.  For quite some time I figured that being real simply meant being Amy, without apology.  But for a reason far beyond my understanding, in my attempt to be real there has been a great deal of personal struggle and adversity.  More often than I care to confess, I find myself pleading with God to lift the burden from my shoulders.  I get tired, weary and oftentimes feel lonely walking this journey with God.  I compare myself – my life – to that of others, and from the outside looking in, their lives seem close to picture perfect.  I only see smiles, never tears.  I only hear how wonderful and miraculously perfect circumstances are turning out for them, not the underlying stresses of life that most of us face on a day-to-day basis.  As I compare myself, I end up swirling like a whirlpool – down, down, down – into a state of “woe is me”.  While others seem to have discovered the secret to success and good living, I am still grappling with the challenges God has allowed to invade the path I walk.  What I fail to understand, however, is that it is in these difficult seasons of life that I am ever so slowly becoming real.

 

“What is REAL?” asked the Rabbit one day.  “Does it mean having things that buzz inside you and a stick-out handle?”

 

“Real isn’t how you are made,” said the Skin Horse.  “It’s a thing that happens to you.  When a child loves you for a long, long time, not just to play with, but REALLY loves you, then you become Real.”

 

“Does it hurt?”

 

“Sometimes.” For he was always truthful, “When you are Real you don’t mind being hurt.”

 

“Does it happen all at once, like being wound up, or bit by bit?”

 

“It doesn’t happen all at once.  You become.  It takes a long time.  That’s why it doesn’t often happen to people who break easily, or who have sharp edges, or have to be carefully kept.  Generally, by the time you are Real, most of your hair has been loved off, and your eyes drop out and you get loose in the joints and very shabby.  But these things don’t matter at all, because once you are Real you can’t be ugly, except to people who don’t understand…”

 

…The Rabbit sighed.  He thought it would be a long time before this magic called Real happened to him.  He longed to become Real, to know what it felt like; and yet the idea of growing shabby and losing his eyes and whiskers was rather sad.  He wished that he could become it without these uncomfortable things happening to him.

 

                                               - Excerpt from The Velveteen Rabbit

 

If only we could become real without the pain, without our beautiful velveteen coats being rubbed bare and worn through.  If only we didn’t have to lose something in the process.  Yet, there is always a cost that comes before greatness.  Before a baby is born there must be labor, and labor is painful.  If I/we truly long to become something more than what we are, we must be willing to pay that price.  The question being then:  Is the cost of becoming real too high? 

 

Interestingly enough, it is only those who don’t break easily that eventually become real.  If with each obstacle we face we find our spirit, our passion and our faith unbroken, we have come one step closer to being real – one step closer to bearing the likeness of Christ.  I concede that in the midst of trial I question my ability to hold up under its pressure.  My faith becomes so small that I am certain I am going to crumble to pieces like a saltine cracker crushed in the palm of a hand.  Yet, emerging from the darkness and surveying what is left of me, I realize I am fully intact and drawn closer to God.  Evidently He must have a great deal of faith that I will not buckle under the pressure of hardship.  Outwardly I may look shabby and the stuffing might be falling out, but I am that much closer to being what I so dearly long to be…Real.  And there is no cost too high for what lies beyond these temporary circumstances.

 

As we move towards becoming real, let us not forget that God is with us throughout the journey even if, at times, He seems distant and silent.  He desires to see our lives unfold into the beauty that He intended from our conception.  He longs, more than we do, to see us come through each tough time more real than we were when we started.  He is the One loving us so much that our hair rubs off and our coats become shabby.  He is the One who can make us Real, but we have to be willing to relinquish our grasp on our preconceived images of what real is.  It is not about avoiding the pain and discomfort of the process, but about living our lives through the pain…through the discomfort.  Realness doesn’t just happen.  Realness – Realness – is a process of becoming. 

 

“God does not give us overcoming life: He gives us life as we overcome.”

                                                                                    – Oswald Chambers

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Posted in Faith, Life | 5 Comments »

Heatwave

Jul 31st, 2009 by Amy

It’s been hot.  Hot, hot…HOT!  The Great Northwest has been experiencing a record breaking heatwave, and we have been in survival mode.  When we realized that the Ziploc baggies filled with ice, and stripping down to our undies while sitting on the floor in front of a fan wasn’t working for us anymore (ice was melting faster than we could keep the baggies filled), it was “pack the bags and over the river and through the woods to my husband’s parents’ house we go”.  They graciously, and I mean GRACIOUSLY, opened their home to our brood of wild animals, and we’ve been camping here for most of the week.  They have air conditioning…we don’t.

Why, you may ask, don’t we have A/C?  Well, apparently “out here” A/C is not considered a necessity, thus they do not build homes with air conditioning in them.  We bought our home four years ago, brand new, and if we wanted to have A/C it would have cost us several thousand dollars more to have it installed.  Since simply buying the home was miracle enough for us, scraping up an additional three thousand dollars wasn’t going to happen anytime soon.  Joel and I are pretty adaptable people too, and figured we could buck up for the one week of summer weather we get per year. 

We’ve managed to survive the past three summers of upper 90’s/low triple digit summer highs, but not this year.  “Grumpy Amy” just couldn’t take it anymore.  I can’t do the whole “human jungle-gym” when the indoor temp is registering close to 111*.  My whole M.K. heritage (and pride of growing up in Africa) has flown right out the window, and I haven’t once felt guilty about it.  Nope, as I sit here with the cool breeze of air conditioning gently blowing on my neck, I do not feel an ounce of regret, failure or shame.  Me and my clan are happy campers, and I couldn’t be more content.

This blog post, while completely random and seemingly pointless, is mostly a “shout out” to my in-laws.  They have spared my husband and children from the wrath of “Grumpy Amy”, which is a priceless gift to all of us.  Times like this are a huge reminder to me of how absolutely blessed I am to have such a sweet and generous family.  While the heatwave is blasting it’s way through the Great Northwest, we are “shiny, happy people” sittin’ pretty in a home full of (not just) love and blessed (oh sweet blessed) air conditioning.

Time for a nice cool glass of lemonade…

Posted in Random | 4 Comments »

Wonderwear, Diamonds and Bedtime Prayers

Jul 28th, 2009 by Amy

amyandgirlsBedtime is quite possibly my favorite time of day.  It’s not because I know that once the kids are tucked in and squared away for the night I get a couple of hours to myself.  I love bedtime because it is during those last few minutes before my little ones drift off to sleep that we share our most special and intimate moments together.  After stories have been read, the girls crawl up into their beds and wait for Mommy to come to them individually and pray.  Because this is such a sweet time for us, I utilize it as a way to teach them memory verses from the Bible, and shower them with words of affirmation. 

 

Listening to the girls recite back to me a verse we have been working on is truly a precious thing, even if some of the words get a little mispronounced.  For instance, the other night I was sitting on Brooklyn’s bed and it was time for her to do her memory verse.  Here is Psalm 139:14 according to Brooklyn:

 

“I praise you…dee-cause…I am fearfuuuulleee…and…wonderwear…oops…(a-hem)…wonder-fly made.”

 

Another night I was talking to Sydney about her day.  She had been such a helper, and I told her what a blessing her assistance was to me.  She smiled big and then went on to tell me how she was able to make good choices.  She described it this way:

 

Sydney:  “Mommy, God put a diamond inside of me.”

 

Me:  “Oh really?”

 

Sydney:  “Yes!  A big, beautiful diamond!  It was super shiny and shined a light for me to see how I could be a good girl today!”

 

Moments like these I want to hold on to forever.  While there will always be challenges in parenting, as I work hard to guide and direct them along the right path, I certainly don’t want to overlook the successes we’ve had.  I do a pretty good job of beating myself up over all the mistakes I make throughout the day, however when I hear my girls talk about God, and how much they love Him, I know I must be doing something right.  I’m an imperfect parent, but I serve a perfect God who also guides and directs my steps throughout the day.  As He is working in me, I am working on the lives of my little ones – one bedtime prayer at a time.

Posted in From The Mouth Of Babes, Motherhood | 2 Comments »

Got Goo?

Jul 25th, 2009 by Amy

Picture 034One of the many things “motherhood” has taught me is that you have to have a strong enough stomach to deal with all of the ‘goo’ that these little bodies produce.  Whether it be the leaky poopie diaper or the nose that perpetually runs like Niagara Falls, mom has to be prepared to deal with whichever end the goo is coming from.  After six years of motherhood, I’ve earned my ‘goo badge’, and I wear it proudly.  I’ve cleaned poop off walls, cribs, clothes and hair (my own).  I have an entire collection of shirts that have religiously been used as Kleenex, as well as cleaned, caught and been covered in vomit.  Oh yes, I’ve earned my badge. 

 

Goo is simply a part of parenthood.  I remember looking lovingly for hours at my sweet and precious firstborn.  I have hundreds and hundreds (no exaggeration) of pictures and films documenting every move she made and nearly every outfit that chubby body ever wore.  And as much as I was enraptured in the beauty of new motherhood, I too was inducted into a whole new realm of mommy-ness that is not often discussed – the ‘goo’.  Sydney, child number one, spit up on anything and everything (she had impeccable timing and every suit my husband owns has worn the “Spit Up Badge of Honor”).  The reason I have so many pictures of her in various outfit ensembles is mostly due to the fact that I had to change her clothes multiple times a day due to the spit up.  And that does not even cover the amount of poop her itty-bitty body could produce!  You realize, even before leaving the hospital with that sweet bundle of baby, that with every coo and gurgle there comes a lot of goo.

 012_12

So, I can handle my kids’ goo:  I can wipe the green goobers from my son’s nose without flinching and clean vomit from my daughter’s hair with my bare hands.  I’ve got the goo covered.  However, I have to confess, I cannot…(let me say that again)…I CAN NOT stomach other children’s goo.  I have no tolerance for it.  If the child is not genetically connected to me, I really don’t want to have anything to do with his runny nose.  I learned this from working with preschool age children.  I was passing out craft items to a group of three-year-olds when one adorable little girl called me over.  She started to hand me something saying, “Teacher.”  I opened up my hand to receive the mysterious item in her fingers.  Before I realized what ‘it’ was, her ‘gift’ was already in my hand as she said, “Teacher, its my boogie.”  Lovely.  This scrumptious, frilly three-year-old girl just handed her booger to me, and now it is sitting in the palm of my hand.  Did I want to vomit?  Oh yes I did.  I quietly excused myself and went to the bathroom to disinfect my hand.

 

Just the other day, after both my husband and I had been volunteering at a sports camp that our church hosted, we were talking about some of the funny things the kids had done.  My husband, Joel, shared with me that a little preschool boy picked his nose and proceeded to wipe it on my husband’s arm.  The very arm I had been holding and caressing so lovingly on the drive home, mind you.  Promptly I made him go and wash his arm in one bathroom while I went to another and washed my hands.  Ugh.  I just can’t deal with foreign goo!

 

What’s my point in all of this?  Well, as humorous (or disgusting) as DSC03773recounting all of the “gooey” stories is, I just have to ask one thing:  Do we not all carry some kind of ‘goo’ around with us?  I’m not talking about spit up and poopie diapers.  I’m talking about those things we hide because we know that other people simply can’t handle our ‘stuff’, and if we share it we may end up rejected.  I know for certain that nobody is perfect, just as I know there is no such thing as a baby without goo, precious as they are.  Thankfully God takes us – ‘goo’ and all.  He doesn’t shame us or run to the bathroom to wash His hands after touching us.  No.  God receives us just as we are.  When I’ve messed up and wondered if there is any hope of redemption for my soul, I know that in the presence of God the goo is wiped away and He is looking lovingly at me – the person – and not at all of the stuff I’ve brought with me.  God doesn’t care about where the goo came from or to whom it belongs.  He simply cleans it up and restores us back to cleanliness.  He doesn’t judge.  He doesn’t wish we would stop coming to Him a gooey mess.  He loves.  He adores.  He sees the most precious part of us, and He longs to continue to bring out the best in each of us.  How thankful I am that my ‘goo’ doesn’t make my Heavenly Father sick to the stomach. 

 

06070059Do you have ‘goo’?  Are you afraid to expose the most “icky” part of yourself for fear of rejection?  Let me please put your fears at ease and let you know that we ALL have ‘goo’.  Every single human being on this planet has ‘goo’.  No one is exempt.  The key to goo removal is not found in buying a Costco size box of baby wipes.  The key is going to God, exposing the ‘goo’ and receiving His forgiveness and love.  If you’ve got ‘goo’, God’s got grace.  And He’s waiting patiently, with open arms, to embrace and accept us – goo and all.

Posted in Faith, Motherhood | 4 Comments »

The M.K. Way!

Jul 24th, 2009 by Amy

M.K.’s (Missionary Kids – of which I am one), have a simple motto that allows them to cope with the not-so-glamorous moments of missionary life. It’s called: The M.K. Way!

Here is how it works: I’m in Africa. I’m sitting in a pastor’s home with something completely unidentifiable on my plate, from an animal my dad slaughtered with a machete – right before church began – all the whilst dozens of flies are hovering and landing in what appears to be “soup”. The dinner prayer has been prayed and we’re supposed to dig in. So…I dive…with a big smile on my face because…it’s the M.K. Way!

It came in handy while itinerating and visiting various churches across the United States. As my sister and I were paraded in front on hundreds of people we didn’t know, being prompted by our mother to proclaim, “Bwana Sifiwe” we could only do so, and manage to keep a smidgen of our pre-teen “dignity”, because…it’s the M.K. Way!

Someone else used it on me when I went to a college M.K. retreat in Colorado (my freshman year). I had never been on skis before, and the whole retreat was centered around God and skiing. Needless to say, as I stood at the top of the Black Diamond slope, looking down at an endless path of moguls something told me this wasn’t going to turn out so well. Just as I was thinking, “How the heck did I get up here?” a fellow M.K. smacked me on the back and said something stupid like, “You can do it Amy…it’s the M.K. Way!” I did it all right…I did it so well they had to call the ski patrol to come to my rescue. The first aid guys that placed me on the stretcher and carried me down the mountain were pretty cute, so I guess it kind of worked in my favor after all. Picking up guys…the M.K. Way!

I used it when I lived in France, and while mingling with a group of young professionals proceeded to call one of the men “cheri,” (over and over again) which is actually a term of endearment in the French language. I thought I was saying “cherry tomato”. I was able to smile and laugh (silly American) instead of crawl in a hole, because…it’s the M.K. way!

The M.K. Way has been a great coping mechanism through some challenging times in ministry too. Someone says something disrespectful and insensitive about my husband or myself, I can smile graciously and keep my mouth closed because…it’s the M.K. way!

However, while the M.K. Way works like magic in dealing with those not-so-glamorous moments of ministry, it really only masks what sometimes is a very deep hurt or pain. On the outside I’m smiling, I’m saying, “It’s okay,” (for the gazillionth time), and mentally willing the tears to not start pouring down my face…because, on the inside, I’m feeling lonely and rejected.

A year ago I sat in a crowded café, all by myself – for an hour – waiting for a group of women to show up for a little summer get-together. None did. I sent a text message to a friend that I thought for sure would be coming.  She had changed her plans at the last minute…I really wish I would have known. I would have changed my plans too.

I have lost count of how many times I have sat in a room, all by myself, waiting for someone…anyone…to show up for an event that I’ve planned. It is a very lonely place to be. In those excruciating moments, when the M.K. Way just won’t cut it, I begin to question God’s calling on my life, or at least my ability to fulfill that calling.

I started a mom’s group two years ago. (MomsConnect – yes, I will shamelessly put in a plug for this awesome group of women). For weeks – a lot of weeks – no one was coming. It started to get a little depressing. “What’s wrong with me?” I would ask this of myself, my husband, my sister, my parents…anyone and everyone! Every Thursday night I would cry my eyes out for at least an hour in the arms of my wonderful and loving husband. “What’s wrong with me?” The answer? NOTHING! There was – and is – absolutely NOTHING wrong with me. Thank God!

So, rather than masking the pain of loneliness and rejection – or whatever hurtful thing may be going on in life – with the M.K. Way, how do I/we cope?

Here’s how God is working on me in this area: I am encouraged by the fact that God knows where I am, what I am doing and the deepest desires of my heart. He has put me in this place for a season of time, and I know I am on the right track. I am encouraged inside to keep moving forward…keep putting myself out there…to keep initiating opportunities. While I love walking into my mom’s group – which has outgrown our little meeting room  – and seeing moms and kids mingling, laughing and socializing, I do so with a deep respect for the One who has drawn those other lonely mommies in there. Just as nobody showing up had nothing to do with me, all those chatty coffee mamas – who I get to laugh and cry with every week – aren’t coming because of me either. I guess I’m finding my “place” in God’s calling.

In regards to the loneliness, pain and rejection: The fact of the matter is, all three are quite certainly unavoidable. There is a void in my life that only God can fill – not a best friend, not success, not a dozen compliments. At the lowest and most challenging point in Christ’s ministry on earth he sought a dependable friend to tarry the night in prayer with him. Sadly, even those who were closest to him let him down. The anguish he must have felt when the reality of his own loneliness set in. I wept pretty intensely after being stood up for coffee last year. That cannot even come close to the heart wrenching weeping that caused Jesus’ tears to turn to blood. He stood alone in a way I never will. If I am ever wondering if anyone knows what it feels like to be alone, I don’t have to look far…Jesus is far more acquainted with this kind of pain than any human who has ever shed a friendless, lonely tear.

So, what can we count on? We can trust that: 1. God will always be there for us, 2. Human beings will eventually let us down, and 3. God knows what that feels like. I am learning, ever so slowly, to let God fill the God void, allow him to bring the right friendship at the right time to fill the friend void and not be discouraged even when my most dependable friend lets me down. Loneliness is a fact of life. Some of us have to endure seasons like this longer than others. So, we can take heart, keep putting ourselves out there, trust that God is in control and eventually we will all be meeting at a café, sipping cappuccinos and laughing about all our silly sob stories of lonely days gone by – M.K. style!

Posted in Faith, Life, Ministry | 7 Comments »

A Best Friend For Brooklyn

Jul 22nd, 2009 by Amy

DSC03800Brooklyn has been feeling a little sad lately.  Almost daily she will tell me that she is lonely because she doesn’t have a best friend.  I empathize with her and try to listen to her sweet four-year-old heart express this longing for a best friend.  One day, I told her that I understand how she feels.  I, too, have no best friend in my life right now.  She looked me straight in the eyes and said, “Yes you do, Mommy!  You have Daddy.  Daddy is your best friend.”  How true, and what a profound observation on her part.  While I could argue with Brooklyn about the difference between a girl best friend and the best friend I have in Joel, I decided it was best to simply drop it and listen to her. 

 

It’s amazing to me – this innate need in us girls to have a best friend, even at four-years-old.  There is a definite void in our lives when we don’t have that special ‘gal pal’ to pour our hearts out to.  We can have the most loving, supportive and loyal husband in the world – which I am so blessed to have – but even with all those wonderful traits, there is something missing without a girlfriend. 

 

As I listen to Brooklyn everything in my ‘mommy’ fiber wants to fix her problem, find her a friend, and make her happy because I hurt when I see my children feeling sad.  I know what it feels like to be lonely, and I hate to see my kids, whom I love dearly, experience that kind of emptiness.  At the same time – while the motherly urge to rescue and relieve runs rampant in my soul – I know at some point my children must experience this pain, and I know that Brooklyn will not be lonely and best friendless forever.  (In fact, out of all three of my children Brooklyn is the one I worry about less in this matter.  She is truly a happy, bubbly, friendly and “doesn’t know a stranger” kind of girl.)

 

All that to say:  I am working hard (daily) to look at the lives of my children through a bigger lens.  How will they look ten/twenty some years from now?  If every time Brooklyn cries because she doesn’t have a best friend, and I jump to her aid, how will she manage loneliness when she is a teenager?  How will she cope as a twenty-something and out on her own?  Will I still need to set up play dates for my twenty-four-year-old?  (I know – highly unlikely – but do you see my point?)  It is okay for Brooklyn to feel lonely.  It is okay for her to feel sad.  As her mom, and as one with many years of knowing what loneliness feels like, I also know that these feelings – these experiences – are temporal.  Eventually God brings a best friend, sometimes more, into our lives.  God created us for relationship.  He knows how much we need and desire real friendship.

 

God also knows loneliness.  He has felt the pain and carried the burden of being completely alone and abandoned.  Brooklyn will probably never experience the kind of loneliness that Christ felt, but she will indeed go through seasons of heartache and longing for a friend.  The best thing I can do for my sweet, little girl is to allow her to feel this kind of sadness, resist the instinct to fix her problem and listen – ever so empathetically – to her heart’s cry.  Just as God turns His compassionate ear to me when I break down in a heap of lonely tears, I can listen to Brooklyn.  God, who knows what is best for me, and knows that these seasons never last a lifetime, is teaching me to look at my child’s situation in much the same way.  There are times when it is not about facilitating and fixing, but it is about listening and empathizing. 

 

So, the next time Brooklyn comes to me and tells me that she is lonely and wants a best friend, I will listen.  I will love her and empathize with her, knowing that her best friend is right around the corner.

Posted in Motherhood | 4 Comments »

The “Stuff” In My Purse And A Trip To Barnes & Noble

Jul 15th, 2009 by Amy

I reached into my “mom bag” yesterday searching for a pen.  I knew that, somewhere in the deep recesses of my gianormous purse, there was a pen to be found.  In my search, I discovered a collection, of sorts, that has been accumulating in my bag:  One strawberry ponytail holder, a Lightning McQueen matchbox car, children’s plastic sunglasses, a stuffed monkey, a silk rose, and a miniature leopard purse.  Needless to say, finding my pen took a little longer than anticipated. 

 

How does this happen to an organized and meticulous perfectionist?  I hate clutter and yet, my purse is filled to the brim with mini racecars and stuffed animals; it’s like the “City of Lost Toys” in there!  Not only does this excess stuff hide my essentials and turn me into Mary Poppins pulling out everything aside from the kitchen sink, but they weigh my purse down so that I feel like I’m carrying a five-pound baby around on my shoulder. 

 

I guess I could always downsize and use a smaller purse, but I really like all the extra space I get with my “mom bag”.  Plus, it’s very trendy, and I’m all about being trendy.  (Note: I’m “Wearing” Children.)

 

Another option would be to prohibit my children from putting anything inside my purse, but I can tell you right now- that is never going to work.  I’m a mom.  Moms have purses…big ones, and their kids know it.  They know that mom probably has a band-aid in that massive shoulder bag, along with a quarter for offering and extra paper for doodling.  Plus, the “mom bag” has to be available for toting all those miscellaneous playthings.  Who else is going to make sure those sacred toys make it home in one piece? 

 

After thinking about it for a bit, I realized the key to this “problem” I’m having is for me to daily unburden my “mom bag” of all the extra stuff.  It’s as simple as that.  There will be plenty of opportunities for my purse to be filled again the next day, but at least it won’t be adding clutter to clutter.

 

This got me thinking about God and the stuff in my own life – the never-ending clutter that amasses itself in my thoughts, my desires, and my heart.  I seem to collect all kinds of unsightly things such as:  Impatience, a critical spirit, jealousy, comparing myself, negative self-talk, laziness, fear – it’s a pretty nasty list.  Then there are the distractions that also jumble up and leave my life a mess:  Finances, unreached goals, blocked goals, searching for significance.  I find that I can so easily get bogged down with all of these that even when I am supposed to be having my quiet time with God, I end up thinking about all my “stuff” instead. 

 

Which brings me to today.  I love Barnes and Noble.  I love walking through those tall double-doors and instantaneously coming face-to-face with shelves upon shelves of books.  I have a little ritual I do every time I go to this beloved bookstore.  First, I head straight to the Starbucks in the back of the store and purchase my grande, soy, caramel macchiato.  Then, with a yummy coffee drink in hand, I start weaving my way through the various sections of the store until I reach the Bargain Books.  If I can find something particularly interesting for $5.98, then I’m sold and ready to hunker down on one of the soft and cushy B&N chairs with my newly found treasure.  Today was no exception as I headed towards the bargains, perusing the shelves of various topics and genres along the way.  I was on the hunt for something thought-provoking and engaging and somehow managed to end up in the “Self-Improvement” aisle.  I was dizzy with awe as I skimmed through a myriad of book titles claiming to hold the secrets to a fulfilling life:  “Rich Dad’s Guide to Financial Success”, “Personal Development – All-In-One for Dummies”, “Oprah’s Big Book Of Happiness”, “Live What You Love”, “Plato Not Prozac”, “How To Improve Your Marriage Without Talking” to name a few. 

 

Rather than feeling inspired to snatch one of these books up and take it home with me, I walked away feeling heavy-hearted.  There are literally hundreds of authors and book titles offering techniques and step-by-step processes to find inner-peace and fulfillment in life.  And really, the only thing these books end up doing is creating yet another pile of clutter.  It’s not just me; everyone is looking for something:  Personal satisfaction, fulfillment, a life-calling.  We are a society lost and internally dry and empty.  There are a lot of sad people in this world, and not sad because they have no food to eat or no roof over their heads; they are sad because they have too much of all those things, but lack peace.  We run ourselves ragged searching for “that one thing” that will complete us and make us whole.  Usually, “that one thing” is clutter.

 

I sat in a chair holding my Starbucks and began processing both my pen search from yesterday and my book hunt of today.  I was feeling rather convicted regarding the “stuff” in my life that God was bringing to mind.  In all the countless times I worry, fret, and react in a state of panic, I’m not being very godly.  It doesn’t matter if I wake up at 5:30 in the morning to spend time with God when I fritter the time away thinking about how unfulfilled I am.  This junk leaves my heart and soul in disarray rather than drawing my heart towards God.  I think about all of those “self-help” books, and they do exactly the same thing.  They don’t point towards God; they keep pointing to self.  Upsetting to me was that, as I skimmed through a couple of these books, I found at no place did they touch on finding fulfillment and meaning beyond satiating one’s own desires. 

 

I’m not about completely emptying my purse because there are some pretty essential things in there.  If I were to follow the advice of many of these self-help gurus, I would end up completely empty, as though I had completely dumped all the contents of my purse out on the floor.  What I’m shooting for is removing the “stuff” that bogs me down and keeps me from living life to the fullest.  I don’t want to be empty.  I want to be full, but full of the right things – the best things.  When I need to find something, I don’t want to sort through a bunch of junk in order to find it. 

 

Philippians 4:6-9

“Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God.  And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.  Finally brothers, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is admirable – if anything is excellent or praiseworthy – think about such things.”

 

The things I want in my “purse” are those that are true, noble, right, admirable, excellent, and praiseworthy.  When I allow the clutter to pile up, it takes such a long time to find the truth.  When fear becomes another pile in my heart, and I don’t dump it immediately, then I end up anxious and worried.  While there are certain things I may struggle with for the rest of my life, I don’t have to let them stick around.  It just means I must continuously empty my “purse” - my life - of the clutter and allow the peace of God to settle inside and fill the contents with all that is excellent and praiseworthy.

 

This is no small task, both literally and spiritually.  It will require much discipline on my part, but God is faithful.  I don’t need to run to Oprah to discover happiness and a guide to life.  I just need to run to God, to His Word, and hide it in my heart.  It is when I do this that I will find the pen I’ve been searching for and the peace that transcends all understanding.

Posted in Faith, Life, Motherhood | 3 Comments »

When God Doesn’t Make Sense

Jul 13th, 2009 by Amy

The other morning I sat around a table drinking coffee and solving the world’s problems – like Clairol versus L’Oreal – with fellow stay-at-home moms.  We shared candidly about our various hair coloring nightmares:  One woman experimented with an alternative brand only to end up with green hair – she was a blonde originally.  Another was visiting family in Norway and was cajoled into trying something “new” which, surprise, turned out to be bright red.  I was very daring too, fifteen years ago, and tried dying my hair “deep brown” (my natural hair color is dark brown – I’m such a risk taker!).  The “deep brown” I was going for transformed my dark brown hair to a horrifying jet black.  I looked like Morticia from the Addams family.   

 

We laughed with each other (and at each other), sipping our coffee drinks, sweetly enjoying our moment of female bonding.  The conversation easily and naturally moved on to something about children:  who wants more, how many more, any plans for more, etc, etc, etc.  Almost effortlessly the discussion took on a more serious tone as one woman began to open up and share her reasons for having only one child.  Her story so deeply touched my heart that it is all I have been able to think about for the past week.  It’s late, my own little ones are all tucked into bed, and I am finally finding the time to put my thoughts into actual words.

 

This beautiful mom had tried for years to conceive, and finally at age thirty-eight, had a baby girl.  It wasn’t but a few days after she left the hospital from giving birth that she developed a sharp pain in her side that wouldn’t go away.  She was quickly diagnosed with cancer and began treatment immediately.  The chemotherapy, while successfully wiping out the cancer, also succeeded in destroying the rest of her eggs.  She suffered from chemo-induced menopause.  As she opened up and recounted the fears and moments of weakness and questioning God, my heart was overwhelmed and drawn to her. 

 

Another mom entered the conversation, relaying her own story of losing a baby in her third trimester, and due to complications, had an emergency hysterectomy…at age twenty-six.  She had already been blessed with two healthy children, but the pain of this loss, both baby and hysterectomy, was staggering. 

 

Both women – diverse in their appearance, backgrounds and age – echoed the same conviction:  God was with them through the entire journey, and it was only God who could bring them through.

 

Amazing.  So often I am prone to shake my fist to the sky when I see something happen that doesn’t make sense to me, or doesn’t fit in my little boxes of what is fair and what is not fair.  I get angry when I don’t understand the “why” – even more so when there is no apparent “why”.  I can become introspective and sorry for myself because I feel cheated that I lost one too many years to depression and an eating disorder.  Then, almost blind-sided, my eyes are opened wide to the suffering of others.  I cringe at my self-preoccupation.  There is so much pain in this world, and again, I want to understand “why”.  Sometimes God just doesn’t make sense.

 

A brief thought was expressed, but as I have been processing I have drawn it out a little further:  It’s not so much that God doesn’t give us more than we can handle.  He does, in fact, give us more than we can handle.  It is during those times when we are under the immensity of a difficult situation and we can’t possibly bear anymore, that God reveals His supreme greatness and strength and carries us through.  It is not in our strength – ever – but Christ in us that will empower us to cope with the hardships, sickness, loss and pain that we will all experience, to some degree, in our lives.

 

Jesus never promised us a rose garden.  He never guaranteed a life free from heartache and sorrow. 

 

John 16:33

“In this world you will have trouble.  But take heart!  I have overcome the world.” 

 

Jesus also insured that, though life may come at us in unsightly ways and take us down a road we weren’t prepared to walk, He is still working in us to produce an abundant life.

 

John 10:10

“The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy; I have come that they may have life, and have it to the full.”

 

It doesn’t make sense:  Living life to the fullest, yet facing a world of trouble.  God’s ways are so far beyond my tiny scope of vision.  I’m fiddling around with Crayola watercolor paints, and He’s looking at the masterpiece oil painting He completed long ago.  In my season of darkness and shadows, His hand made brushstrokes across the canvas of my life and created something beautiful and breathtaking.  The thief tried to take the essence of my friends’ lives and destroy any hope for a future.  Yet, I hear in their testimonies that, while there are still questions, still moments of weakness and doubt, that God is their sustainer.  When there was trouble, they had hope because God overcome that obstacle, and now they can live in the fullness of Him.

 

It’s really not about making sense of God because, quite frankly, none of us ever will.  God will never be One of whom we can fully fathom or understand.  I will have “why’s” on a daily basis.  God may allow us to walk through the darkest season of our lives, and it may never make sense in earthly terms, but God is working on a masterpiece far grander than the here and now.  His ways are not our ways, but they are higher.  His thoughts are not our thoughts, but they are purer and wiser.  The world, in its sinfulness, may try to destroy us, but the One who holds the world in His hands is holding us too – steady and ready to breathe new life into our broken souls.

Posted in Faith | 1 Comment »

She’s Come Undone (Almost)

Jul 11th, 2009 by Amy

I’m a crazy woman.  Being the “tech-novice” that I am – and by “tech-novice” I mean a person who lives in a constant state of fear that I am one keystroke away from crashing my computer – decided that not only would I start blogging, but I would also purchase and host my own domain.  So simple, I know (note the sarcasm in my voice). 

The domain ownership was not exactly my bright idea.  A friend of mine encouraged me to consider this option, seeing that it could be a strategic move for me down the road.  My initial feeling was to wait, not because I didn’t believe my friend or see the wisdom in her advice.  I was mostly just plain scared to venture into the cyber-world – I am completely cyber-illiterate, you know.  However, after thinking it over for a few days, I resigned myself to the fact that this was, indeed, something I needed to do – sooner rather than later.  So, I took the plunge!

The “easy” part was purchasing the domain and rights to host (and I had a lot of help, too).  Next came the actual creation of the blog.  My brain hurt, my eyes hurt and, at this moment, my mental state is teetering on the brink of insanity.  I’ve pulled my hair, slapped my face, and grunted multiple times at the computer, smacking keys and stomping my feet.  It’s been quite the week.  It was when I started talking to myself in the third person that I decided I needed to take a break and do a little writing.  I didn’t want to unravel right before my children’s eyes, and I‘m a much sweeter mommy when I’m writing.

 As I’ve had a few hours to mull over the week’s events, working with my little sliver of “cyber-pie”, I came up with three lessons I’m learning through this process:

  •  It is never as simple as “just click on this”.  One click leads to another click, which leads to another click.  You have to keep clicking until you reach your desired outcome.  And then, there are usually five more steps to take beyond that.  So, just keep on clicking – which leads to my second lesson… 
  • Clicking on things will not, in fact, crash the computer.  It is actually a great way to explore, learn, and discover all the wonderful intricacies that cyber space has to offer.  Don’t know what “plugins” or “widgets” are?  Just click.
  •  And lastly, while the process may be long and arduous, the end result is well worth it.  (I haven’t quite made it to “the end” yet, but I am highly optimistic that I am going to be very satisfied when I do, indeed, get there.)

 That said:  I just want to say a huge “thank you” to Amy, James, and “Hawkeye” (my new friend at godaddy.com).  You are my own personal “geek squad” – and by “geek” I am in no way insinuating that you are geeks.  You are all super cool in my book and have spared me from coming completely undone. 

 Break time is over, and now back to my blog…

Posted in Random, Writing/Blogging | 1 Comment »

When Syd Grows Up

Jul 9th, 2009 by Amy

Sydney: “Mommy, I want to be YOU when I grow up.”  (I know, I know…I too was overwhelmed with the “I just want to pick you up and kiss you all over” feeling when she made this momentous announcement.)

She continued her statement with a list of weekly activities: “I’m going to be a girl pastor on Sunday, Tuesday and Wednesday. I’m going to be a gardener on Monday, Thursday and Saturday. Then on Friday’s I’ll sweep!” (For the record, I am neither a “girl pastor” nor a “gardener”. The sweeping part? That, I actually do.)

I’ve given her the job of sweeping our floors – I’m just trying to give her lots of practice for her career.

Posted in From The Mouth Of Babes | 1 Comment »

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