The Depths of Forgiveness

how deep am i willing to dive into forgiveness?

some days i feel i've already treaded as deep as i can go...

yet i feel the Holy Spirit pushing me... prodding me to swim deeper

into waters unknown to me

... waters that Christ walks on...

for He has already been into the deep... fully submerged

only to resurface with a full victory...

of complete forgiveness

for all people

for every sin.

... even those we can't bear without terror

& He's there in that abyss of forgiveness calling

"follow Me"...

but the waves are crashing in my fearful mind, 

& the thunder of my broken heart is deafening,

the pain is crying louder than His still, small voice...

in the breath of the moment i'm incredibly aware that i have a choice

a hard choice

a painful choice

to either allow my eyes to be captured by the turmoil

the heart ache

the terror

or...

to fix my gaze on Jesus

Who is not thrown by the storm

or tossed by the waves of fear

Who knows the pain of this offense personally

for He Himself bore the consequences of this sin

with full knowledge of this betrayal 

He was pleased to make the offender His own...

if i choose to stop here

because i've already gone so far

or don't know how to go further...

then i'll drown in my unforgiveness.

but if i move forward

forgiving as Christ forgives

then i'm running toward His open arms

& that voice that stills the storm

... & if for only that reason

forgiveness is not the ignorant choice

& we should never mistake the peace of Jesus in the storm 

for a lack of knowledge of severity

or an absence of caring...

for it is the new way to true life

Isaiah 43... "forget the former things; do not dwell on the past. see, I am doing a new thing! now it springs up; do you not perceive it? I am making a way in the desert & streams in the wasteland... I, even I, am He who blots out your transgressions, for My own sake, & remembers your sins no more..."

Mom Goggle Appreciation

Parents see their children differently than others see them. They perceive their potential, dream up ambitions, stare directly into their handsomeness, and (hopefully) cheer loudly. This strange view from parenting also causes overreaction to any missteps or personality struggle as an assumed lifelong failure. Some people refer to this phenomenon as "mom goggles". If you've never heard this term you could educate yourself by watching the mom goggle episode of The Goldbergs... You'll thank me later. I've determined that mom goggles actually alter how parents perceive the world. That may sound super inspirational (feel free to journey there in your mind if you're so lead), but I'm actually referring to the things that parents appreciate that these same people were literally incapable of appreciating (as intensely) the minute before they had a child. 

Here are a few things mom goggles make much more vivid:

Appreciation For Drive Thru's-

Any business that gives me the option to keep the crew who can't all buckle or walk themselves stuck in their 5-point harnesses is going to win my loyalty. 

Freshly Clipped Finger Nails-

I rarely noticed the length of other human beings finger nails until I bore tiny versions with miniature talons that will rip flesh from me if not kept up on every 37.4 hours (approximately). 

Feeding Yourself, And Only Yourself-

Cutting up meat into bite-sizes pieces is not a chore when said pieces are entering my own mouth. But when there's a mass of tiny, hungry mouths screaming in impatience for their next bite, meal time changes. Date night has ceased being about where we eat out, as I simply cebrate eating my own meal when it's hot. 

Spare Time-

Friends in my MOPS group collectively grieve the absurd amount of time Sienfeld stole from our pre-children days. I can't figure out why we spent the evenings inside when there were no sleeping minors to keep us at home? Why didn't I paint, or learn a stupid human trick, or volunteer, or train for more endurance sports, or master tap dancing then? I didn't even know how awesome "killing time" in Target was until I became a parent. 

Leaving The House With Ease-

It was so simple for all those years I didn't even notice. I never truly appreciated how super I am at putting on my own shoes and coat. I now see that I am very talented at these skills, and I pray that one day my offspring will, too, be blessed with these abilities... Because currently we collectively are horrendous at leaving the house. 

Rooms Staying Clean-

I'm not, how you say, a "natural homemaker"... Previous to miniature humans moving in, I would think "when was the last time I swept the apartment?" Because it didn't NEED swept!!! That concept is mind boggling at this point of my cheerio-crumbs-everywhere life. 

Normal Toothpaste Tubes-

This...

makes me view a toothpaste tube that's been squeezed with the use of fine motor skills with more appreciation than I ever thought necessary. 

There are many more things that children make us view with deeper appreciation... and that seriously is a blessing. Since the first 8 years have raced by, I'm going to grasp as much vividness and thankfulness out of each season, and trust the Lord to use it all to grow me as the journey continues. Let's not become bitter with longing over what's not in our current season, and strive to be appreciative along the way. 

R.E.S.P.E.C.T...

Find out what it means to me...

Respect means not always having to be right...

Keeping a marriage intact demands entertaining the idea that sometimes I'm wrong. While I don't actually find this to be entertaining, it is often true. I do not try to be wrong, or enjoy being wrong (at all), or even think I'm wrong... regardless, I am not perfect. Interacting from the stance that my opinions, ways of doing things, preferences, thoughts, memories, etc are more correct, increasingly true, absolute, refined and more in line with reality in all circumstances is wrong and disrespectful (and ridiculous when spelled out). 

Respect means trusting his driving...

My husband had been deemed by the state of Ohio as capable of operating a motor vehicle four years previous to us entering wedlock (yes mathematicians, we were THAT young). I trust his eye sight, I trust his judgement, I trust his reflexes, I trust his desire to avoid firey, multi-car wrecks. To this day I'm unaware of any car accidents that were successfully prevented by aggressive arm-rest squeezing & deep inhales from the shotgun seat of the car. With these realities in mind, I can choose trust instead of fear. In a car, the passenger is completely out of control, but God is still in control. Praying (silently is preferable), taking a deep (also silent) breath, and coming to grips with the fact that I am powerless frees me to be respectful.  

Respect means not speaking to or about him as if he were a child...

It's not funny to demean someone. A spouse's words have incredible weight. If I am hurt or sad or frustrated or afraid or have unmet expectations... then I need to talk about those feelings like a grown up. Maybe he won't listen. Maybe nothing will change. Maybe I have past evidence that leads me to forecast those results. It's still the only way to continue to show up in marriage. Giving another chance to hear. It's not my choice whether or not someone else listens, and it is painful when they don't, but we must keep opening the door because we swore "I will". Treating my husband like the man I know he can be frees him to be that man. Stay strong in this.

Respect means acknowledging his fashion preferences...

This is easier for me than for you. I apparently married the world's most fashion-forward man ever. I seriously thought he was joking when he announced in 2003 that he was going to "bring vests back"... eight years later Justin Timberlake caught on. It was after my name changed to his that I realized that sit-coms and fashion magazines had lied. Men do care. They have a style they like and are working towards that look. They consider their appearance more than they ever let on to non-spouse people. Sure, some of your men may be aiming for the "comfort or death" fashion statement, but it's still their look. What I find attractive on my husband does play a role in how he dresses, but it's not supposed to be the main source for what he wears. Encourage and compliment when he looks good. Nagging or laying out his clothes or pointing out stains in public are things that a mother (if anyone) should do... 

Respect means refusing to use the words "never" or "always" during fights...

I always do this. I'm relatively easy going until I'm not. Then I'm the most crushed or furious that anyone has ever been ever. Saying that he "never" considers how I feel, or that he "always" treats me like a jerk just nullifies any time that he has or hasn't (yeah... that sentence happened... remember when I told you I wasn't a real writer?). This is both mean to do and opens up an endless number of bunny trails which we can now follow screaming at each other the whole way down. The hard truth is that my tendency to over-emphasize the current issue is caused by my emotional constipation. It's evidence of the "record of wrongs" that I've been mentally composing (even though I vowed not to keep one). When I don't say "that hurt my feelings" immediately when my feelings are hurt, there's a good chance that emotional diarrhea will occur later. And that just stinks. (You're welcome.) 

Respect means choosing not to constantly correct him...

We've all witnessed this happen before. A couple is trying to tell a story, but before anyone can get to the point, they're arguing relatively vigorously about whether the day was Tuesday or Friday or the car was dark green or regular green or if it was on Ellen or The Doctors... Or whatever. I apologize for you having to see us do that right in front of you... When this happens the information trying to be conveyed is completely lost in the arsenal of facts of how each person is certain they are right. Let's not do that. That's no fun. Even if you are absolutely sure they are wrong, if it's not vital to the story, let it go. If it is vital to the story and must be shared, progress with caution. Memory is a strange thing. A false memory is as powerful as a true memory. So discuss it with the knowledge that the other person is just as convinced they're right, and you have as good of a chance of being wrong. Now if I could stop interrupting him completely because I simply love to talk and get so excited, then I'd be in good shape...

Respect means refusing to nag...

I thought I would NEVER nag my husband. I knew that was the biggest relationship complaint of men everywhere, and my demented need to strive for perfection at anything I tried meant I couldn't be a nag. When he didn't do what he said he would do, I would simply remind him of what he said. If I didn't see him trying hard, I would innocently recite all the reasons it was important for us. If I even imagined that he might not remember to do what he said he would do, I would make sure to repeat it again. That's helpful, right?! Nagging comes from fear. In a marriage you are dependent on another person and the thought that they will drop the ball is terrifying. This is the practical playground of the biblical concept of marriage roles. The Bible calls both marriage partners to submit to God, then calls the husband to love his wife and the wife to submit to the husband. (I'm having IBS just thinking about the reaction some of you are having at that word but it's in Ephesians 5:21-28 so I used it here.) Practically this means trusting God with the consequences of me trusting my husband. I'm responsible to show respect by not nagging him, he's responsible to God for our family. I can't explain the freedom that came from recognizing that my husband's follow-thru was not my concern. I hope you'll experience it for yourself. 

The best "respect advice" came from my BFF within the first 2 years of my marriage. I was struggling with how to respect my husband when I didn't think he was making respect-deserving decisions. I was lost in the looking-for-a-loop-hole thinking and stated "I don't even know how to respect him!" She causally replied "It's the same as respecting your parents." This was not very clear to me, so I exclaimed "But I HAD to respect my parents because of the position they held in my life, not the choices they made!" I think at that point crickets chirped and she said "Yep." 

Please don't misunderstand, marriage is dependent on honest communication. I'm not suggesting that you, too, burden yourself with emotional and mental constipation by stuffing your feelings and opinions. I'm suggesting that if you vowed before the God of the Bible that you would take him as your husband, then he has a position worthy of your respect. Handle the issues that annoy you, aggrevate you, hurt you, terrify you, and confuse you with respect and a deeper relationship can develop. 

Note to that un-wed reader: 

If the person you are dating or engaged to or will be someday does not make decisions that you can respect, end the relationship. If you don't trust their driving ability, end the relationship. If you hate their fashion sense, end the relationship. If you are convinced they are always wrong and can't remember any details, end the relationship. If you feel like they need you in order to survive their daily routine, end the relationship. Basically, choose a respectable person who you personally can show daily, practical respect to. Learning how to do it after saying "I do" is painful. Not learning usually results in the end of the relationship eventually.

Respect to me means the ability to empower the man I married to be who he was created to be... and I truly want to be that kind of wife.

How He Loves Us...

"We are His portion and He is our prize,

Drawn to redemption by the grace in His eyes. If His grace is an ocean, we're all sinking. And heaven meets earth with an unforeseen kiss, and my heart turns violently inside of my chest,

And I don't have time to maintain these regrets as I think about the way that He loves us. 

Oh how He loves us..." 

                              - John Mark McMillan 

Regrets that I can't, nor should I strive to, maintain:

- not being present for Theo's birth...

- our baby spending 4 months in the NICU without us...

- not finding the shorter route to Fairfax until the very last time we made the trip...

- not protesting the G-tube installation...

- agreeing to have a sleep study performed on a one-year old...

- disregarding God's voice speaking "do not worry, I know how much you want this" in order to cling to my default of anxiety...

- losing my tired temper... Repeatedly...

- not planning a party for Theo's first birthday... 

- missing out entirely on his second birthday...

- disregarding our budget...

- not carrying the baby who was on oxygen as much as I carried the one who was not...

- being unable to ever repay the help we have been given over & over & over again...

- struggling to focus on the improvements he's making over how "slowly" he's making them...

- not being present for the other three kiddos...

... There are more. 

I'm writing this list, not to self deprecate or beg for encouragement... after all, logic alone could eliminate the majority of the list... but to claim for myself the love of Christ that allows me to choose to not maintain my regrets. My feelings are constantly being drawn toward guilt, worry, fear, regret, and the pride of self hatred... But I don't have to default. I can choose instead to allow the perfect love of God to fill all the imperfections of my life, my week, my moments... Jesus has redeemed more than just my sins. 

As I struggle through the tough end of a week-long hospital stay 2 hours from home, the Holy Spirit causes thanksgiving to flow from my tired attitude. I don't want to still be here. I don't want to hear "not today", I don't want to miss the conference and graduation ceremony we've been planning for half a year, I don't want to wrestle an uncomfortable baby into sleep at 2AM... But I get to. 

I get to do the hard things it takes to be Theo's mom. I see a small picture of redemption in holding him all week while he's on oxygen in the PICU as his parent... Redemption of time he spent in a hospital without us. And while logic or encouragement could theoretically diffuse the regrets that I should not carry... It's having the perfect love of the all-seeing God inspite of all that I regret that truly sets me free. So it's here in the lengthy silence of the hospital room that I grow deeper in allowing God's grace to really be enough for my everything every day. 

Hospital Vacation

For Mother's Day this year Theo decided to surprise me with a vacation. He picked the time, set the location, even arranged the transportation... 

Thoughtful little fellow...

And at the risk of sounding like a awful mother... I'm actually enjoying our spur of the moment get away. I'm not enjoying his RSV (hence the synergist vaccines he was injected with all "RSV season" to prevent this), or his sleepiness, or the tubes, or his struggle breathing... But there are some reasons that I'm probably having a better week than you...

1) Snugglefest

That's what's happening here, people. Being upright helps him clear the junk out of his lungs. So I hold him and we rock and he cuddles and sleeps. This is primarily how he can decipher daytime from nighttime here. Nighttime he sleeps in the bed. Daytime he sleeps on mom. Days of solid snuggle time don't happen at home, so I'm stocking up here for the price of a bunch of mucus on my shoulder. 

2) Better Odds

At home it's 2 on 4. This keeps the man & me in perpetual motion. Here it's like 40 on 1. Seriously. I can just sit and rock the baby while meds are given, laundry is done, the room is cleaned, boogers are retrieved from the nose and throat with a mini vacuum, food is prepared and delivered... There's a team of people caring for my child instead of one person caring for a team of children. Although that's what Brice is currently doing at home (AND looking good), but I'm able to help line up sitters and meals and reschedule appointments with ease. I never knew what a breeze texting and phone calls could be when not shin deep in laundry and dishes and appointments with two toddlers on my hips!

3) Restaraunts and Shopping

I sat in the hot sunshine and ate Panera Bread for lunch today (& yesterday). This definitely qualifies as a vacation. I soaked in the sun and ate delicious carbohydrates by myself. It was incredibly restorative. Then I got to bargain shop at target. (I bought the cutest fedora for $2.48... I might have a hat problem.) Seriously, folks! Y'all keep asking me how I'm holding up while I'm sipping Starbucks! I feel like I should be baking you meals! Of course I don't have a stove available to me at the moment... But I could arrange a meal to be delivered via text message since we already established that I've currently got ample time for that.

4) Friends

I'm about 2 hours away from home and yet I've had 5 visitors in 3 days. Coffee and calories were delivered when I hadn't eaten all day. Balloons and baked goods were dropped off. Much needed conversation and prayer was had. On top of that I've received countless texts and messages of support and encouragement and offers of help. I bet you could use a visitor or some encouragement where you are... So know that wherever you are right now you are deeply loved and passionately pursued.

5) Jesus' Peace

Your prayers are being heeded. Jesus' presence is very evident to my heart, in my mind, and in Theo's health. Yes he has RSV. Yes he's hooked up to many wires and tubes. Yes it's hard on my heart to see him struggle. But thank The Lord it's just RSV. It will pass. He will heal. We're just managing the symptoms. We're amongst kids battling heart issues, bad accidents and cancer. We are sitting pretty with a virus. 

Sure, worry continuously beckons my mind... "Will this mean he has to return to at home O2 use?" "Did he go too long at home with dangerously low O2 sats and damage his brain?" "Am I scarring my other three children by being away this week when we already have to be away from them next week?" "Are the nurses judging me for being gone for lunch for this long?"... But God is answering each question I throw at Him with a deep, lasting, sweet peace. 

I don't know how long we'll have to stay here. But I know peace for this moment. And I can trust there will be peace for the moments to come. And if you had any clue how difficult sitting still indoors is for me, you too would recognize this as a miracle. I'm not working real hard to convince myself that Jesus is in control... I'm simply convinced that I'm not, and intentionally hearing Him whisper to my heart that He indeed is. 

So maybe my week is kinda way better than yours has been going. But what if it has less to do with my Mother's Day hospital get away, and more with the voice of Jesus speaking to the ears of my heart? It's not like I have any more control of life when it's "normal" anyways. 

“Peace I leave with you. My peace I give to you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Your heart must not be troubled or fearful." John 14:27

Teachers, Nurses & Moms... Oh My!

May is a big month. 

Apparently this is a big week. 

According to my sources on Facebook and the google machine, this week has been the time when we spend our appreciation on teachers, on nurses, and on mothers. 

Good thing I have such a deep well of appreciation from which to draw...

Teachers...

You teach. Some of you get paid. None of you get paid enough. You teach in schools and churches and on fields and in garages and in theaters and in homes... Wherever students may be. 

You teach because you can't help it. It flows from you. It burns inside you. You crave the next "ah ha" moment. You must explain deeper, different, again... Until that light appears in the student's eyes. Then you keep going. Because you know more moments, more connections, more growth lies ahead. 

You don't give up. Even when you threaten to. No matter how hard they make it on you. Even though you seem to have more reasons to halt than to press on. Even when you no longer carry the title. You keep on teaching. It's a part of who you are. 

I appreciate how you have and do shape me. I am indebted to you for the way you invest in my kids. Thank you for doing what you do. Thank you for being who you are. 

Nurses...

You care. You really, truly care. You have blurry lines between patients and family... If any lines at all. You have the dirty, repetitive, tedious, tricky, painful, constant, messy, body-fluid-filled, hands on, heart in... job. And you are needed. 

Your hours are insane. Your patience is proven. Your tears fall. Your jaw sets. Your knowledge is helpful, but it's your compassion that is truly reassuring. 

You answer questions that you're not paid for. You do the research and prescribe the cure and administer the shots. You receive texts that assume you're a premie-Down syndrome-feeding tube- pulmonology-rash-fever expert. And you answer me. And reassure me. And care for my kids, and parents, and me. Thank you for caring. 

Moms...

She who bore me is a teacher. The one whose son chose me, a nurse. How rich my life is. 

How much you have taught me... How thankful I am that the lessons continue still. How great you have cared for me... How much your knowledgable compassion has carried me. 

Your chosen professions have enriched my days. You, yourselves have shaped my life... and the lives of those who call me mom. Your grace, honesty, acceptance, cheering, support, generosity, food, housing, hugs, advice, medical supplies, child care, encouragement, road trips, phone calls, holiday celebrations, struggles, hopes, forgiveness, prayers, loyalty... and more teach me and bring me healing. 

I am who I am because you are who you are.

You are appreciated. 

Good News Graduate!!!

You know that diploma you were just handed? The one you showed up, and studied, and concentrated, and created, and worked really hard for?!? It comes with benefits!!! In case you're uawares, let me enlighten you...

That little paper can:

Enable you to tell me how you're really feeling...

Open your eyes to see how gorgeous you are...

Give you the superpower to freeze time & adjust one physical object... (you should mostly use that superpower to mess with people)...

Make you understand it isn't your ability to sing, or draw, or run, or learn, or write, or paint, or create, or debate, or behave that makes you worthwhile...

Allow pink or blue to show up a little better in your hair...

Erase the sting of rejection... And more so, never allow you to mistake it for something wrong with you...

Free you from the secrets you keep...

Create a ferocious hunger inside you for the Word of God...

Transport you to Canada with me so we can watch the sunset from the fire tower...

Squelch your attraction to the bad boys...

Bestow on you the courage to deal with the feelings you're afraid to admit you have...

Set up many college nights of braiding hair & watching Dr. Who & eating too many Doritos with really good girl friends...

Clarify in your mind that flirting isn't necessary when you have the real thing... And give you the confidence to recognize that you do in fact have it...

Instill a passion for cautious driving...

Squash your fears of failing... Even when it's very, very important...

Inspire you to make another "Good News" tract...

Allow you to grasp the truth that you have so much more ahead than lies behind...

Grant you the ability to see the lie in the airbrushed magazine covers (& music videos & advertisements & all media...)

Show you sunsets that Instagram can't do justice...

Help you avoid jobs that only play "top 40 radio" on your shifts...

Give you the confidence to say "no"...

Put you on the adventure of daily saying "yes" to God...

Give you runs that last longer than you thought you could go... Not the diarrhea kind of runs, though... That world just be gross...

Bestow "world traveler" status upon you...

Bring you many more volcano climbing experiences...

Cease your striving to protect yourself from breaking... For it's when you break that you can be healed...

Instill in your character the truth that being exceptional means often times standing alone...

Grant you summer evenings with the windows open & music blaring & open road...

Enable you to sleep regardless of how loud your roommate may snore...

Help you find the strength to realize there is joy in doing what's hard...

Just kidding. It doesn't do any of that. 

The choice is yours. The Spirit will romance, and lead, and empower you... But the steps are yours to take. The road is hard. Laugh when it's funny, praise when it's good, cry when it hurts. Don't waste time and energy on lies. Do what's hard. Press on in hope that never ceases... Especially when you can't see the "why". Listen to your mom. Keep a journal. Pray while you run. And always, everyday, forever hear from Jesus... Because your journey gets much more wide open now, and knowing that you don't possess all the answers yourself is of utmost importance. 

My prayers are as constant as my pride in who you have been created to be. 

"I always thank my God for you because of God’s grace given to you in Christ Jesus, that by Him you were enriched in everything — in all speech and all knowledge. In this way, the testimony about Christ was confirmed among you, so that you do not lack any spiritual gift as you eagerly wait for the revelation of our Lord Jesus Christ. He will also strengthen you to the end, so that you will be blameless in the day of our Lord Jesus Christ. God is faithful; you were called by Him into fellowship with His Son, Jesus Christ our Lord." (1 Corinthians 1:4-9)