Dear God,
Please let my son watch closely. Please let him see how heavy the shelves, boxes of tile, and boxes of laminate flooring I carried are. Let him see my fatigue and notice how much my body hurts from caring and moving loads really far heavier than you made my body to carry. Let him notice that I asked members of your body for help...with no reponse.
And God, help him remember, so when he is older he has the godly wisdom to order his days for the important things, the relationship things, the God things of service, and give him wisdom to order his time so it does not center around LSU or Tide football or the World Series or the latest episode of whatever, but that it always includes time to serve you by serving your people. Help him remember tithing is more than a check. It is a lifestyle, and tithing time is one place your people fail miserably. Help him not to fail, but to ask you where you want your hands and feet that you put on his body to serve with his day, his week, his month...his lifetime.
Lord, when you called me to be his teacher, this is not what I had in mind, but if this is how you choose to teach him to be a man after your heart, then let him learn well.
Thank you, Lord.
Showing posts with label love. Show all posts
Showing posts with label love. Show all posts
Wednesday, January 11, 2012
Tuesday, December 13, 2011
Someone Special
"Jerri," he says in that way that means he hopes I grasp the truth in his words, "we are all looking for someone special. Everyone who is single is looking for someone special. You are not the only one who finds the holidays to be hard because you don't have someone special."
I listen.
His sincerity warms my heart...even though I know he is totally wrong.
The truth is most people are not looking for someone special. They are looking to BE special. Most people are not looking for someone they can value, encourage, or love. Most of us are looking for someone who values us, picks the right Christmas gift, remembers our birthday, knows those special things about us, encourages us when we are down, calls at just the right time, surprises us with a card, and all those great mushy gushy love things that tell us we are worth the effort, we are important, we are noticed and valued in this world.
THAT is what most people want.
Now, some folks do like spoiling others. They like being the caller, the one who picks up that little something, the one who makes the effort, and the one who lets the other person know their life makes a difference.
In my case, I get to be both.
No. I am not dating anyone. There are no whispers of "forever" or even suggestions of dinner Friday night. However, I am deeply loved, and I am blessed with very lovely people.
I have multiple friends who send me emails or texts to whisper heart deep that they believe my life makes a difference, that THEIR life is better because of mine. They remember my birthday, my special numbers, hard days. They notice when my Facebook account disappears or when I am quiet too long...or when they ask how I am and I answer without giving an answer at all...and that tells them all they need to know. They know I have no favorite color but do have favorite cookies...and they have the recipe. They know the priceless gifts that money can't buy. They know how to pack seashells and Birch bark so they don't break, and they are gifted at picking just the right music video to post to my Facebook wall.
These lovely people share their hearts, and I try to hear the pieces, the parts that make them who they are, their favorite colors, cookies, movies, and memories. I send CDs, rum cakes, and state shaped pasta, cards with inside jokes, links to make them laugh, and pictures of whatever that "reminded me of you." And there is the treasure--the thoughts of them, the knowing them, the privilege of being allowed in. Their priceless lives that make such a huge difference to mine, and the lives that are worth the effort, MY effort to convey just how priceless they are.
No wonder everyone wants it. Too bad so few realize how good it feels to give it.
Me? Like I said, I'm blessed enough to get both. And, yes, THAT is VERY special.
I listen.
His sincerity warms my heart...even though I know he is totally wrong.
The truth is most people are not looking for someone special. They are looking to BE special. Most people are not looking for someone they can value, encourage, or love. Most of us are looking for someone who values us, picks the right Christmas gift, remembers our birthday, knows those special things about us, encourages us when we are down, calls at just the right time, surprises us with a card, and all those great mushy gushy love things that tell us we are worth the effort, we are important, we are noticed and valued in this world.
THAT is what most people want.
Now, some folks do like spoiling others. They like being the caller, the one who picks up that little something, the one who makes the effort, and the one who lets the other person know their life makes a difference.
In my case, I get to be both.
No. I am not dating anyone. There are no whispers of "forever" or even suggestions of dinner Friday night. However, I am deeply loved, and I am blessed with very lovely people.
I have multiple friends who send me emails or texts to whisper heart deep that they believe my life makes a difference, that THEIR life is better because of mine. They remember my birthday, my special numbers, hard days. They notice when my Facebook account disappears or when I am quiet too long...or when they ask how I am and I answer without giving an answer at all...and that tells them all they need to know. They know I have no favorite color but do have favorite cookies...and they have the recipe. They know the priceless gifts that money can't buy. They know how to pack seashells and Birch bark so they don't break, and they are gifted at picking just the right music video to post to my Facebook wall.
These lovely people share their hearts, and I try to hear the pieces, the parts that make them who they are, their favorite colors, cookies, movies, and memories. I send CDs, rum cakes, and state shaped pasta, cards with inside jokes, links to make them laugh, and pictures of whatever that "reminded me of you." And there is the treasure--the thoughts of them, the knowing them, the privilege of being allowed in. Their priceless lives that make such a huge difference to mine, and the lives that are worth the effort, MY effort to convey just how priceless they are.
No wonder everyone wants it. Too bad so few realize how good it feels to give it.
Me? Like I said, I'm blessed enough to get both. And, yes, THAT is VERY special.
Saturday, December 10, 2011
My Journal Uncensored--Emotionally Unavailable
"I am emotionally damaged and emotionally unavailable."
His words roll around in my head like that annoying drippy faucet that can't be turned off. It's annoying and grates on my nerves...and is oddly comforting.
It is comforting to have a term, some kind of defined explanation. It is also wildly comforting in a mental/emotional "raft up" kind of way. Ironic how another emotionally unavailable person can release emotions of joyous contentment in my not being alone in this.
It also bothers me in deep ways I don't want to explain, in vulnerable ways that pull back the "all is fine" mask and reveals the all too raw places underneath.
Frankly, the whole thing makes me mad.
It makes me mad that I gave him power to do this. It makes me made that I still give him that power.
Heather said she knows several women who think the way to get over one man is to get under another.
Just how much nameless sex does it take to stop feeling like your name is painfully easy to forget?
Or in some cases, before you stop feeling at all?
Since I seem to already be there, I think I can skip the whole sex debacle and be fairly confident I haven't missed anything.
I may not have all the answers, but one thing I do know, a man getting in my pants and a man getting behind my walls is not the same thing.
And ultimately, I want him behind my walls.
Ultimately, I want to trust again.
Ultimately, I want the wild ride of passion...about all of life...again.
Ultimately, I want to feel deeply, where right now I feel mostly numb.
Ultimately, I want to love fearlessly, knowing I can invest huge and watch it all walk away if someone decides I am not enough...or they aren't...
Ultimately, it isn't about a man finding his way behind my walls.
It's about my not wanting to be a prisoner inside them.
His words roll around in my head like that annoying drippy faucet that can't be turned off. It's annoying and grates on my nerves...and is oddly comforting.
It is comforting to have a term, some kind of defined explanation. It is also wildly comforting in a mental/emotional "raft up" kind of way. Ironic how another emotionally unavailable person can release emotions of joyous contentment in my not being alone in this.
It also bothers me in deep ways I don't want to explain, in vulnerable ways that pull back the "all is fine" mask and reveals the all too raw places underneath.
Frankly, the whole thing makes me mad.
It makes me mad that I gave him power to do this. It makes me made that I still give him that power.
But how do I take it back?
Heather said she knows several women who think the way to get over one man is to get under another.
Just how much nameless sex does it take to stop feeling like your name is painfully easy to forget?
Or in some cases, before you stop feeling at all?
Since I seem to already be there, I think I can skip the whole sex debacle and be fairly confident I haven't missed anything.
I may not have all the answers, but one thing I do know, a man getting in my pants and a man getting behind my walls is not the same thing.
And ultimately, I want him behind my walls.
Ultimately, I want to trust again.
Ultimately, I want the wild ride of passion...about all of life...again.
Ultimately, I want to feel deeply, where right now I feel mostly numb.
Ultimately, I want to love fearlessly, knowing I can invest huge and watch it all walk away if someone decides I am not enough...or they aren't...
Ultimately, it isn't about a man finding his way behind my walls.
It's about my not wanting to be a prisoner inside them.
Tuesday, November 15, 2011
Gift of Presence
The holidays are coming, and this year, they are not being greeted with the usual excitement. This year the anticipation has been replaced by dread.
When holidays are about family get-togethers, seeing others open the gifts you gave and watching their faces beam with joy, laughing together, and enjoying everybody, when those people are gone, it is hard. Traditions are hard when the traditional people aren't there to enjoy them with you. It could be parents, spouse, children, or friends.
When lives change big, big holes are created where the treasures used to be.
In our home, we are very traditional. We have a huge tree, five-foot diameter at the base, and eight feet tall. We bought it a few years ago to hold all our ornaments. Our ornaments are ones we've been collecting since 1988. The first Christmas Rob and I dated, we bought an ornament and had it personalized with both our names. Every Christmas after that we either bought an ornament with our names or we each bought an ornament. Then we had our four-legged children because we weren't planning to have two-legged ones, and they each got an ornament. Then Anna got her ornament. Then Robert got his ornament. It took time, but we eventually removed all ornaments that were not personal either in name of memory. All we have are named ornaments or ornaments with stories. It is pretty neat actually. Every year we put up the ornaments and tell the stories and laugh all over again.
Except this year the stories are a bit more painful than funny, and the personal ornaments that brought such great joy only magnify the empty place of the person not here to put up his ornament...either here with us or at his house with the kids.
My parents are gone. There is no family get together.
All the things we loved--the PEOPLE--we loved aren't here, and the hole is huge.
So, we held a meeting.
The very real option of ditching the holidays and going on a trip was put on the table. The option to not up a tree was laid out there, too. The option to scratch what we had always done and start all over was dropped into the mix.
"Like what?"
"Like what what?"
"Like what like we've never done?"
"Like anything we want to do."
Quiet.
"I like the tree," I ventured. "I like to turn on the lights, listen to quiet music, and just be."
Two heads nod.
"But I can't put up the personal ornaments this year." My voice cracks without permission.
Two heads nod.
"We can get new ornaments," I suggest.
Two bodies come to attention.
"Really? We can do that?"
"Really. We can do that."
Today we did.
We went tropical with lime green, Caribbean blue, and hot pink. Streamers and viney looking straight ornaments in all colors, fancy pink butterflies, lime dragon flies, and blue flowers. It is our Christmas Carnival tree. A million miles from the stoic somber trees we usually see. None of the Christmas decorum for us. No, sirree. We are all about celebration...in the brightest sense of the word.
We shopped for our unit in Afghanistan while we were at it. Tomorrow we bake cookies and put a box of homemade, "You rock. Thank you for all you do!" in the mail.
And then...
I don't know.
But I have a feeling it will include laughter, a lot of cookies, some Kleenex, and Latin rhythms.
I wish I knew a way to make it better. I wish I knew a way to take away the ache. I wish...
I already see them.
When holidays are about family get-togethers, seeing others open the gifts you gave and watching their faces beam with joy, laughing together, and enjoying everybody, when those people are gone, it is hard. Traditions are hard when the traditional people aren't there to enjoy them with you. It could be parents, spouse, children, or friends.
When lives change big, big holes are created where the treasures used to be.
In our home, we are very traditional. We have a huge tree, five-foot diameter at the base, and eight feet tall. We bought it a few years ago to hold all our ornaments. Our ornaments are ones we've been collecting since 1988. The first Christmas Rob and I dated, we bought an ornament and had it personalized with both our names. Every Christmas after that we either bought an ornament with our names or we each bought an ornament. Then we had our four-legged children because we weren't planning to have two-legged ones, and they each got an ornament. Then Anna got her ornament. Then Robert got his ornament. It took time, but we eventually removed all ornaments that were not personal either in name of memory. All we have are named ornaments or ornaments with stories. It is pretty neat actually. Every year we put up the ornaments and tell the stories and laugh all over again.
Except this year the stories are a bit more painful than funny, and the personal ornaments that brought such great joy only magnify the empty place of the person not here to put up his ornament...either here with us or at his house with the kids.
My parents are gone. There is no family get together.
All the things we loved--the PEOPLE--we loved aren't here, and the hole is huge.
So, we held a meeting.
The very real option of ditching the holidays and going on a trip was put on the table. The option to not up a tree was laid out there, too. The option to scratch what we had always done and start all over was dropped into the mix.
"Like what?"
"Like what what?"
"Like what like we've never done?"
"Like anything we want to do."
Quiet.
"I like the tree," I ventured. "I like to turn on the lights, listen to quiet music, and just be."
Two heads nod.
"But I can't put up the personal ornaments this year." My voice cracks without permission.
Two heads nod.
"We can get new ornaments," I suggest.
Two bodies come to attention.
"Really? We can do that?"
"Really. We can do that."
Today we did.
We went tropical with lime green, Caribbean blue, and hot pink. Streamers and viney looking straight ornaments in all colors, fancy pink butterflies, lime dragon flies, and blue flowers. It is our Christmas Carnival tree. A million miles from the stoic somber trees we usually see. None of the Christmas decorum for us. No, sirree. We are all about celebration...in the brightest sense of the word.
We shopped for our unit in Afghanistan while we were at it. Tomorrow we bake cookies and put a box of homemade, "You rock. Thank you for all you do!" in the mail.
And then...
I don't know.
But I have a feeling it will include laughter, a lot of cookies, some Kleenex, and Latin rhythms.
I wish I knew a way to make it better. I wish I knew a way to take away the ache. I wish...
But this is what I know. We won't always ache. We won't always feel like there is a hole...unless we choose to. We won't always...wish.
One day we will enjoy the new treasures, be comfortable in the new traditions, laugh to new jokes. One day the room won't be lit by the stings on the trees but the faces around us. One day we will see through the veil to rejoice in the lives that have filled our lives.
I don't know how God is incorporating them yet, but I see faces...all around me. I feel the new lives, the warmth of the knitting. It is good. It is very good.
And I choose to focus on THOSE gifts, the gifts of the present, the gifts of presence.
Do they "fix" things? No. They don't replace the loved ones we lost. But if we are going to be here, I sure am thankful for the gift of their presence.
Thursday, October 27, 2011
I've Been Blessed Deep
I have been blessed with some amazing...AMAZING...friends, family, and friends who look like family. Steven Sauke is one of my little brothers by a different mother. He has blessed me immensely with words of encouragement, the most creative hugs I've ever seen, and his deep, faithful love. Today he blessed me with a blog. Please drop by his place to read the blog and see the blessing.
"Have You Considered my Servant Jerri?"
"Have You Considered my Servant Jerri?"
Monday, October 24, 2011
Real
She relays the information almost mechanically. Somewhere behind the words are the tears.
She is scared.
I am scared for her.
Her husband is sick. Very sick. Could die sick.
She doesn’t say it, but I hear it in what she doesn’t say. It’ll take a miracle.
I have nothing. I refuse to tell her somehow God will make it okay because it is not okay.
She is not okay.
I am not okay.
At that moment in time, nothing is okay.
And I have nothing. No words. No hug. No….anything.
Except, I do, and I walk myself right into the throne room of my Daddy and look into His face, and as she talks aloud, I talk silently.
“Surely You did not take me through that to leave me with nothing to help with. Surely that hell served no purpose. I need something. Her world is crumbling, and she needs somewhere to land, if only for a moment. Please, Daddy, give me something to give her.”
No booming voice. No big production. Just a quiet thought of what I would have wanted…what I still sometimes want.
“Are you busy?” I ask.
Well, she has some plans. Needs to take care of some things. Trying to fumble through life’s quicksand.
“Do you want to come over here?”
Not really. She needs to handle some stuff, tick things off her check list…feel some sense of control and enjoy the escape while doing it.
I understand.
“What is your favorite beer?”
Her voice says she is confused, but she tells me anyway.
I write it down.
“Okay. This is what we are going to do. I’m going to buy that beer and have some of it cold from now until we get to the other side of this. Whenever you need to, you come over here. We are going to sit on the deck. You can scream and rage about how unfair this is, about how this stinks, about how you don’t understand, about how it hurts more than you could EVER dream, about how you have no clue how you are going to get through, about how angry you are, about all those things you would never unleash to anyone else. My house and my deck is your safe place to say whatever you want, use whatever language you want, to drink however much you want. I will either take you home, or you can sleep in the guest room. Whatever. But this is where you can come and be real. There is no judgment, no answers, and no pressure to be better. Whatever you need to be—even if it is silent, you can be it here.”
I hear it in the silence. That inhale that comes in the silence of a breath caught between the smile of gratitude and the sobbing of being found.
“You really do understand, don’t you?”
I swallow the tears so words will come. “Yes. I really understand.”
Quiet comes, and we sit with phones to ears, hearts together.
“I need to get busy, so I’ll let you go," she finally says.
I tell her to have a good day, I love her, I’m praying, I’ll keep the beer cold.
“I love you, too.” That is the first smile I’ve heard in her voice…and it is real.
Thursday, October 20, 2011
Monday, September 5, 2011
Possibly My Greatest Flaw
Dear God, work in and love me as You know I need today. Show me Your heart for me and Your desire for me so I can be in agreement with you in action, thought, and word. And, Lord, work and love through me in Your perfection because Your perfection is omnipotent and greater than all my imperfections. Keep eye contact with me, and if I turn my eyes, pull them back to you, because I want to see YOU and all You want to do and not be distracted by all I know Jerri cannot do.
I love you so much. You are my heart, and I am overwhelmed by You.
Monday, March 14, 2011
When Silence Speaks Volumes
My friend Michele sent me a sweet message last night asking my forgiveness for her silence. Except, she hasn't been silent. She just hasn't been talking to us. Instead, she's been talking for us, and that is exactly what we needed.
Jerri,
I just read your blog post and wanted to say...
Over and over again, I think of the different ways you have lifted me up - and I have no idea how to do the same for you. I have prayed for you, Anna, & Robert and I'm sorry that is all I have done. Truly. You are precious - to God, to me, and to so many others. You remain in my prayers and please forgive my silence.
My response:
Sweet friend,
A multitude of thanks for the prayers. Prayers for us are EVERYTHING.
Truly. I am not just saying that to make you feel better. God's faithfulness, despite my screaming pain and rage, is obvious. I know He is answering others' prayers because I do not even know what to pray now.
Do not be sorry that is "all I have done". Change your sentence around and hear the power in it. "All I have done is pray." When all you're doing is praying, all you're doing is walking into the throne room on behalf of my children and me and saying, "Lord, God Almighty, Ruler of the entire universe who holds every second, every breath, every answer in Your hand, let me ask of You for my in desperate need friend Jerri and her children."
Oh, my friend, stand in the throne room for us! Stand there! Cry out for us! Seek Him for us! Ask of Him for us!
Michele, I have no words. I somehow wander into the throne room, fall to my knees, stare at Him, and simply lift my hands in empty questions. I do not know what to ask. I have simply sat in His presence and hurt and sobbed.
Speak for us. Put words where I have none. You are doing exactly what we need. Thank you for your faithful intercession. Thank you.
"...and I have no idea how to do the same for you." Oh, my friend, simply saying that does wonders for my soul. Simply saying, "Jerri, I can't imagine the pain and have no idea how to get near it, but I'm with you," is balm.
"...Forgive my silence." Michele, what is there to say? Really? That you are stunned? Shocked? Yep. Me too. That God lvoes me? Believe me, if He didn't, He would have squished me like a bug already. That He has great plans for me? A whole email in and of itself. That...what? This sucks and you can't believe how much has happened in 9 months? Yes, it does, and I can't either.
I'm learning that sometimes silence isn't abandonment or rejection or ambivalence. Sometimes silence is the only way to acknowledge how truly HUGE the impact of something is. Sometimes silence is the only honest response...and sometimes it is the most healing because it validates the immensity of a situation for the person going through it. Silence says this is unlike anything you've ever seen before, and nothing remotely compares.
Losing my mom and Rob dying suddenly within 3 1/2 months of each other is big. Statistically, you don't hit that very often. Throw in the separation, and that shrinks it further. Toss in that our divorce would be final tomorrow, the 15th, and that really knocks it down to tiny number, and for fun, let's mix in a whole slew of details that aren't public domain, and yeah, I have pastors who are friends telling me they are walking in unchartered territory because they have NEVER heard of anything close to this situation.
Yeah, silence because nothing remotely compares...sounds like the perfectly validating response.
So, dear one, walk in freedom. You are doing exactly what you need to do. You are recognizing a situation that is FAR beyound human ability to do anything about, so you are taking it all to the One who can do anything we need.
You are doing EXACTLY what we need you to do. Please keep it up.
And if Daddy shares any words with you, please share them with me if He says you can. :-)
Love you dearly! Sending you huge hugs!!!
Jerri,
I just read your blog post and wanted to say...
Over and over again, I think of the different ways you have lifted me up - and I have no idea how to do the same for you. I have prayed for you, Anna, & Robert and I'm sorry that is all I have done. Truly. You are precious - to God, to me, and to so many others. You remain in my prayers and please forgive my silence.
My response:
Sweet friend,
A multitude of thanks for the prayers. Prayers for us are EVERYTHING.
Truly. I am not just saying that to make you feel better. God's faithfulness, despite my screaming pain and rage, is obvious. I know He is answering others' prayers because I do not even know what to pray now.
Do not be sorry that is "all I have done". Change your sentence around and hear the power in it. "All I have done is pray." When all you're doing is praying, all you're doing is walking into the throne room on behalf of my children and me and saying, "Lord, God Almighty, Ruler of the entire universe who holds every second, every breath, every answer in Your hand, let me ask of You for my in desperate need friend Jerri and her children."
Oh, my friend, stand in the throne room for us! Stand there! Cry out for us! Seek Him for us! Ask of Him for us!
Michele, I have no words. I somehow wander into the throne room, fall to my knees, stare at Him, and simply lift my hands in empty questions. I do not know what to ask. I have simply sat in His presence and hurt and sobbed.
Speak for us. Put words where I have none. You are doing exactly what we need. Thank you for your faithful intercession. Thank you.
"...and I have no idea how to do the same for you." Oh, my friend, simply saying that does wonders for my soul. Simply saying, "Jerri, I can't imagine the pain and have no idea how to get near it, but I'm with you," is balm.
"...Forgive my silence." Michele, what is there to say? Really? That you are stunned? Shocked? Yep. Me too. That God lvoes me? Believe me, if He didn't, He would have squished me like a bug already. That He has great plans for me? A whole email in and of itself. That...what? This sucks and you can't believe how much has happened in 9 months? Yes, it does, and I can't either.
I'm learning that sometimes silence isn't abandonment or rejection or ambivalence. Sometimes silence is the only way to acknowledge how truly HUGE the impact of something is. Sometimes silence is the only honest response...and sometimes it is the most healing because it validates the immensity of a situation for the person going through it. Silence says this is unlike anything you've ever seen before, and nothing remotely compares.
Losing my mom and Rob dying suddenly within 3 1/2 months of each other is big. Statistically, you don't hit that very often. Throw in the separation, and that shrinks it further. Toss in that our divorce would be final tomorrow, the 15th, and that really knocks it down to tiny number, and for fun, let's mix in a whole slew of details that aren't public domain, and yeah, I have pastors who are friends telling me they are walking in unchartered territory because they have NEVER heard of anything close to this situation.
Yeah, silence because nothing remotely compares...sounds like the perfectly validating response.
So, dear one, walk in freedom. You are doing exactly what you need to do. You are recognizing a situation that is FAR beyound human ability to do anything about, so you are taking it all to the One who can do anything we need.
You are doing EXACTLY what we need you to do. Please keep it up.
And if Daddy shares any words with you, please share them with me if He says you can. :-)
Love you dearly! Sending you huge hugs!!!
Thursday, December 23, 2010
Purpose
"PURPOSE is more than knowing one is loved.
It is knowing the power one imparts
through loving with word and ACTION.
It is knowing one is not here to simply get...
but has something valuable to GIVE....
and is COURAGEOUS enough to do so."
--Jerri Kelley Phillips
Tuesday, September 21, 2010
An Honest Letter from This Side of the "Fail" Line--Part 5
Being Loved On
So, now that I’ve given all the ways that people have hurt us and isolated us, let me tell you how people have embraced us. I don’t want this to simply be a vent. It is meant to educate and inform.
Some helpful things people have done:
1. Just love us with no ulterior motives. Do you have any clue how nice it is to have a play date without someone using it as an excuse to get us trapped so they can ask questions?
2. One couple chose not to tell me all the things Rob needs to do or be. Instead, this couple took responsibility and talked to Rob themselves.
3. Game night where it was really about “being there” and caring with no questions—unless you want to talk—or lectures (so sick of lectures on what needs to be done and how from people who don’t even know what’s wrong and no real idea how to fix it).
4. “A book that helped me.”—Not the, “You need to read this,” thing, but simply, “I have this book. It helped me (and how). If you want to read it, you’re welcome to it.” Non-threatening, non-judgmental, just offering some hope and help.
5. Grace. I have a friend who fully believes in marriage and fully believes all efforts should be made to save it, but when I said, “I don’t know if I can stay if things don’t change,” instead of telling me how I was failing to have faith or just needed to make up my mind and do it, he said, “Then you know there will be consequences. You know it’ll impact the kids. You know you are going to have to pray through that and seek God to walk through it with healing for all of you. You know you are going to have to have the wisdom to let God lead you through to the other side to where the healing is.” Yes. Healing. That is the pursuit.
You know what he didn’t do? He didn’t tell me how screwed up my kids would be. He didn’t lay some heavy burden on me about how it’s my responsibility to make sure everyone came through okay. He didn’t tell me how I would end up losing my ministry and my life purpose if I got a divorce or didn’t perform just right and get everyone to harbor safe and sound. In fact, he didn’t try to scare me into performing at all. He didn’t dump fear on me in any way.
What he said was simple: sometimes humans fail, and he wanted to know if I trust God to cover us all even if we fail. Did I believe in grace to cover me and my family when I simply wasn’t good enough to fulfill the law? Yes, I do. Sadly, it seems a large number in the church don’t.
6. Believe God can heal…even when it doesn’t look like the box we think it should, or in the time frame we want it to be in. I won’t try to explain it. I’ll just say I trust God to heal according to His perfect love.
7. Understand that sometimes a season of separation is better than a lifetime of divorce.
8. Be hopeful without being pushy. We don’t need anyone telling us what God is doing. We see it every day. We know better than y’all.
Continued in Part 6--What Now?
So, now that I’ve given all the ways that people have hurt us and isolated us, let me tell you how people have embraced us. I don’t want this to simply be a vent. It is meant to educate and inform.
Some helpful things people have done:
1. Just love us with no ulterior motives. Do you have any clue how nice it is to have a play date without someone using it as an excuse to get us trapped so they can ask questions?
2. One couple chose not to tell me all the things Rob needs to do or be. Instead, this couple took responsibility and talked to Rob themselves.
3. Game night where it was really about “being there” and caring with no questions—unless you want to talk—or lectures (so sick of lectures on what needs to be done and how from people who don’t even know what’s wrong and no real idea how to fix it).
4. “A book that helped me.”—Not the, “You need to read this,” thing, but simply, “I have this book. It helped me (and how). If you want to read it, you’re welcome to it.” Non-threatening, non-judgmental, just offering some hope and help.
5. Grace. I have a friend who fully believes in marriage and fully believes all efforts should be made to save it, but when I said, “I don’t know if I can stay if things don’t change,” instead of telling me how I was failing to have faith or just needed to make up my mind and do it, he said, “Then you know there will be consequences. You know it’ll impact the kids. You know you are going to have to pray through that and seek God to walk through it with healing for all of you. You know you are going to have to have the wisdom to let God lead you through to the other side to where the healing is.” Yes. Healing. That is the pursuit.
You know what he didn’t do? He didn’t tell me how screwed up my kids would be. He didn’t lay some heavy burden on me about how it’s my responsibility to make sure everyone came through okay. He didn’t tell me how I would end up losing my ministry and my life purpose if I got a divorce or didn’t perform just right and get everyone to harbor safe and sound. In fact, he didn’t try to scare me into performing at all. He didn’t dump fear on me in any way.
What he said was simple: sometimes humans fail, and he wanted to know if I trust God to cover us all even if we fail. Did I believe in grace to cover me and my family when I simply wasn’t good enough to fulfill the law? Yes, I do. Sadly, it seems a large number in the church don’t.
6. Believe God can heal…even when it doesn’t look like the box we think it should, or in the time frame we want it to be in. I won’t try to explain it. I’ll just say I trust God to heal according to His perfect love.
7. Understand that sometimes a season of separation is better than a lifetime of divorce.
8. Be hopeful without being pushy. We don’t need anyone telling us what God is doing. We see it every day. We know better than y’all.
Continued in Part 6--What Now?
Wednesday, August 18, 2010
Here
Yesterday Mom spent several hours sitting on my deck hunched over with tears slipping down her face. The facts of life...and death...seeping into her reality.
I stood at the window and watched, not knowing how to give comfort, afraid of my own tears.
What could I possibly say? "Mom, it's okay." No, it's not. Cancer is so far from okay. "Mom, it'll be alright." The headaches that remind her of the bomb ticking in her head never stop. How can that ever be alright?
But how could sitting alone in one's pain alright? And how can keeping a distance from someone hurting because of fear of one's own pain ever be okay?
A hard blink and a quick swipe of the hand. A shaky deep breath. "Oh, God, help me be what she needs right now. Help me be the love you have for her."
Her head lifted when I opened the door, and her red eyes followed me as I moved the other chair close to her and sat down.
"I love you, Mom."
She nodded, blinked, and leaned back in the chair. A deep breath.
"I love you, too, Sis."
"I don't know what to do, but I'm here."
She didn't look at me, only nodded.
"Here is good."
I leaned back in my chair, too.
Silence wrapped around us, held us tight...held us close. There was nothing to say, only somewhere to be.
Here is good.
I stood at the window and watched, not knowing how to give comfort, afraid of my own tears.
What could I possibly say? "Mom, it's okay." No, it's not. Cancer is so far from okay. "Mom, it'll be alright." The headaches that remind her of the bomb ticking in her head never stop. How can that ever be alright?
But how could sitting alone in one's pain alright? And how can keeping a distance from someone hurting because of fear of one's own pain ever be okay?
A hard blink and a quick swipe of the hand. A shaky deep breath. "Oh, God, help me be what she needs right now. Help me be the love you have for her."
Her head lifted when I opened the door, and her red eyes followed me as I moved the other chair close to her and sat down.
"I love you, Mom."
She nodded, blinked, and leaned back in the chair. A deep breath.
"I love you, too, Sis."
"I don't know what to do, but I'm here."
She didn't look at me, only nodded.
"Here is good."
I leaned back in my chair, too.
Silence wrapped around us, held us tight...held us close. There was nothing to say, only somewhere to be.
Here is good.
Friday, August 13, 2010
In the Early Morning Hours
Some mornings start absurdly early, like this one. At 4:23 my wide-open eyes stared at the clock beside me. It's been a few weeks since I was up this early and couldn't go back to sleep. Before, it wasn't a big deal. I would prop myself up in bed, read through emails, journal some, and pray. When I got tired later in the afternoon, I would take a nap. Today, however, that is not an option. Today we are going camping with my mom and dad, most likely for the last time.
Even as I write that, I cannot really process it.
Last week I walked by our pop-up camper and suddenly found myself leaning against it with hot tears running down my face.
We bought the camper for our family to take trips together. Now our family...isn't. A few years ago my parents bought their camper so they could join us on our trips. We've loved it. Now my mom's health is fading quickly, and my stepdad isn't able to do the preparations and make the trips alone.
And my tears fall.
Yesterday when my mom called to ask us to camp this weekend, I bravely agreed, made the plans, packed the necessary things...and all the while wiped fat tears from my face. The "last times" are so hard...and so precious.
Camping in mid-August in Texas has got to be one of the craziest things anyone would do. The temps are in the triple-digits. Our pop up isn't made to stay cool in this weather, and there isn't much to do besides melt. My practical side is about to have a hissy fit.
But I am more than practical.
I am a mom whose daughter needs as many precious moments of Grandma as she can hold.
I am a story teller who needs the pictures, the whole story, and the opportunity to tell it...the adventure of living it.
I am a daughter who hates seeing her mom this way...but hates the future of not being able to see her mom...so I capture the moments...the laughs on the phone, the conversations in the hospital room, the insanely timed camping trips whose time is coming to a close. And I hold those treasures in my camera...in my mind...in my heart...and I know no amount of tears, no matter how big or how hot will wash them away.
And even though my vision is blurred, my purpose is not.
So I pack swimsuits, shorts, an extra fan, boxes of kleenex. I take a deep breath and do not think of what we will be leaving behind when we pack up our family trip...for the last time. Instead, I focus on what we will take home.
And I pray.
I pray for us to say what needs to be said, to hug as long as we need to hug, to laugh even when we cry. I pray we do not put on plastic faces that pretend all is well when it isn't, but I pray we do not miss the joy and laughter just because life isn't what we want it to be.
Oh, God, gives us the wisdom and strength to be okay with the glory of life when it is so easy to lose its joy in the shadow of death. When I look back, I don't want to think about this weekend as the last hoorah, as trying to salvage moments and memories. I want it to be a weekend where we lived and loved intentionally, knowing you could do something miraculous and there might be other weekends, but if not, it's okay. I want us to have this weekend because this is how we choose to live, not because we are afraid to die.
And, God, help me be brave. Help me to engage emotionally, even when emotions feel like the enemy because right now, my heart hurts more than words can say. Help me not to miss the love and the joy because I'm afraid of the pain. Right now, I don't know how I am going to do this, but I guess we'll do this like everyting else, won't we? One moment at a time.
Even as I write that, I cannot really process it.
Last week I walked by our pop-up camper and suddenly found myself leaning against it with hot tears running down my face.
We bought the camper for our family to take trips together. Now our family...isn't. A few years ago my parents bought their camper so they could join us on our trips. We've loved it. Now my mom's health is fading quickly, and my stepdad isn't able to do the preparations and make the trips alone.
And my tears fall.
Yesterday when my mom called to ask us to camp this weekend, I bravely agreed, made the plans, packed the necessary things...and all the while wiped fat tears from my face. The "last times" are so hard...and so precious.
Camping in mid-August in Texas has got to be one of the craziest things anyone would do. The temps are in the triple-digits. Our pop up isn't made to stay cool in this weather, and there isn't much to do besides melt. My practical side is about to have a hissy fit.
But I am more than practical.
I am a mom whose daughter needs as many precious moments of Grandma as she can hold.
I am a story teller who needs the pictures, the whole story, and the opportunity to tell it...the adventure of living it.
I am a daughter who hates seeing her mom this way...but hates the future of not being able to see her mom...so I capture the moments...the laughs on the phone, the conversations in the hospital room, the insanely timed camping trips whose time is coming to a close. And I hold those treasures in my camera...in my mind...in my heart...and I know no amount of tears, no matter how big or how hot will wash them away.
And even though my vision is blurred, my purpose is not.
So I pack swimsuits, shorts, an extra fan, boxes of kleenex. I take a deep breath and do not think of what we will be leaving behind when we pack up our family trip...for the last time. Instead, I focus on what we will take home.
And I pray.
I pray for us to say what needs to be said, to hug as long as we need to hug, to laugh even when we cry. I pray we do not put on plastic faces that pretend all is well when it isn't, but I pray we do not miss the joy and laughter just because life isn't what we want it to be.
Oh, God, gives us the wisdom and strength to be okay with the glory of life when it is so easy to lose its joy in the shadow of death. When I look back, I don't want to think about this weekend as the last hoorah, as trying to salvage moments and memories. I want it to be a weekend where we lived and loved intentionally, knowing you could do something miraculous and there might be other weekends, but if not, it's okay. I want us to have this weekend because this is how we choose to live, not because we are afraid to die.
And, God, help me be brave. Help me to engage emotionally, even when emotions feel like the enemy because right now, my heart hurts more than words can say. Help me not to miss the love and the joy because I'm afraid of the pain. Right now, I don't know how I am going to do this, but I guess we'll do this like everyting else, won't we? One moment at a time.
Monday, July 19, 2010
Comfort on the Path Alone
When my dad was in the hospital the last time, I knew it was a matter of days. The year had been hard, in and out of hospitals, procedures, ICU, long drives, short nights, an ocean of tears. Now, the battle was coming to an end, and despite the effort to prepare emotionally and mentally, one never knows what to do when the time finally arrives.
My friend Diana did one of the most unorthodox--and so desperately needed--things I can imagine. She took me out for a day, not a day of processing or preparing for the inevitable, but a day of coffee, chocolate, lunch, a glass of wine, shopping, and laughter. Oh!, the laughter! We reminisced, not about my dad, but about college, boy friends--especially the one we shared :-) --friends...did I mention the laughter?
I went home after my day with Di and slept...hard...peacefully...comforted.
A week later Diana stood with me as they wheeled my dad's casket from the church to the hearse. She squeezed my hand, hugged my neck, and let me go. It was all she could do. Some paths can only be walked alone...but what you have when you step onto them can determine how well you walk through them. Di had given me all she could, and it was all my heart needed.
Again I am on a path that really can only be walked alone. Grief, hope, and healing are witnessed from the outside but can only be lived within. While others can hug my neck and hold my hand, ultimately, they have to let go and let me walk through stumbling at times, head held high at others, and anywhere in between at any given moment.
But their hearts are with me...and this is the comfort.
It is rarely what is said. In fact, it is more often what isn't. It is more what they do and the tender grace with which they do it.
It is the acceptance of the path, the willingness to witness it, the pain and pleasure of watching me stumble and stand up again I see in their eyes.
It is their willingness to laugh with me at the most seemingly inappropriate places knowing the laughter hedges the pain that would drown me.
It is their quiet grace as they watch me bravely stagger from a joyous occasion because the grief is too heavy and too deep to hide behind a smile.
It is their knowing when a detour is necessary to give strength and not just diversion.
It is the discipline to stand back when they want to rush in with a hug or advice, and it is the deep breath they take and the silenced tongue when I walk in a way they would not and the tender way they pick gravel from my knees without making me feel ashamed or like less when their way was right and mine was wrong.
It is not yelling back when I am yelling at them...and when it isn't at them all but I'm still yelling.
It is the simple texts, "I love you. I believe in you. I am still expecting great things for you." The cards in the mail with elephant seal hugs, butterflies in the becoming, and sunshine on my face.
Sometimes it is the phone calls, and sometimes it is knowing not to call right now.
It's more than being willing to listen. It's being willing to sit in the silence...when tears burn hot...breath comes shaky...and all there is to do is hand over another kleenex.
It is the heart that holds on while letting go, stands fast while stepping away, and answers calls spoken and unspoken. This is the comfort that I take with me on this path...the comfort that while I am walking alone...I'm really not...I'm taking loving hearts with me.
My friend Diana did one of the most unorthodox--and so desperately needed--things I can imagine. She took me out for a day, not a day of processing or preparing for the inevitable, but a day of coffee, chocolate, lunch, a glass of wine, shopping, and laughter. Oh!, the laughter! We reminisced, not about my dad, but about college, boy friends--especially the one we shared :-) --friends...did I mention the laughter?
I went home after my day with Di and slept...hard...peacefully...comforted.
A week later Diana stood with me as they wheeled my dad's casket from the church to the hearse. She squeezed my hand, hugged my neck, and let me go. It was all she could do. Some paths can only be walked alone...but what you have when you step onto them can determine how well you walk through them. Di had given me all she could, and it was all my heart needed.
Again I am on a path that really can only be walked alone. Grief, hope, and healing are witnessed from the outside but can only be lived within. While others can hug my neck and hold my hand, ultimately, they have to let go and let me walk through stumbling at times, head held high at others, and anywhere in between at any given moment.
But their hearts are with me...and this is the comfort.
It is rarely what is said. In fact, it is more often what isn't. It is more what they do and the tender grace with which they do it.
It is the acceptance of the path, the willingness to witness it, the pain and pleasure of watching me stumble and stand up again I see in their eyes.
It is their willingness to laugh with me at the most seemingly inappropriate places knowing the laughter hedges the pain that would drown me.
It is their quiet grace as they watch me bravely stagger from a joyous occasion because the grief is too heavy and too deep to hide behind a smile.
It is their knowing when a detour is necessary to give strength and not just diversion.
It is the discipline to stand back when they want to rush in with a hug or advice, and it is the deep breath they take and the silenced tongue when I walk in a way they would not and the tender way they pick gravel from my knees without making me feel ashamed or like less when their way was right and mine was wrong.
It is not yelling back when I am yelling at them...and when it isn't at them all but I'm still yelling.
It is the simple texts, "I love you. I believe in you. I am still expecting great things for you." The cards in the mail with elephant seal hugs, butterflies in the becoming, and sunshine on my face.
Sometimes it is the phone calls, and sometimes it is knowing not to call right now.
It's more than being willing to listen. It's being willing to sit in the silence...when tears burn hot...breath comes shaky...and all there is to do is hand over another kleenex.
It is the heart that holds on while letting go, stands fast while stepping away, and answers calls spoken and unspoken. This is the comfort that I take with me on this path...the comfort that while I am walking alone...I'm really not...I'm taking loving hearts with me.
Saturday, June 26, 2010
Something to Consider
Have you ever noticed...
On days that are so deeply painful and unlovely that they defy words,
God is faithful to provide love so deep, so healing, so real that it defies words too?
For all of you lovely people that I have no words for...
Thursday, March 4, 2010
Noteworthy People
I love personal emails. The right words at the right time can do wonders for turning a bad day around or adding the icing to an already fabulous day.
As much as I love a good email, I love real mail even more. It is a thrill to open my mailbox and find an envelope with my name written with a human hand. There is wondrous joy in seeing that someone valued me enough to take time to address an envelope and jot down love on paper.
In the world we live in, love often takes a backseat and value gets hidden under to do lists. It takes a deliberate choice of action to make people the priority they need to be.
I choose to live deliberately.
During a lull in the day, I amass my supplies within my reach on the couch. Boxes with event labels on the end, pen, and home organizer notebook. My laptop sits closed on the floor awaiting its turn.
Beside me is my cup of chocolate milk or coffee, and before me, the TV glows soft with a heart-filled movie or TV show. The story of wounds too real becoming hearts restored plays on as I do my share to contribute to heart health.
I flip open the book to the blue sheets under the tab "Cards and Dates". Four columns per page. Each column a month of names, birthdays and anniversaries.
"Lord, show me the right card and give me the right words."
I open the boxes I have bought in bulk at the store--the only way I can find time or budget to supply so many cards.
I begin with next month's list. Three anniversaries. I read the cards sometimes more than once until I know which card goes with which couple. I write the name on the front and the date in the upper right hand corner--where it is easily covered by a stamp.
Next, I look through the names for children's birthdays. Then I find cards for the men (because there are always fewer of those). Finally, each lady on my list is given a card.
When I am done, three months of cards lay before me with name and date written on the front and a card tucked loosely inside.
Then I pull out my gold folder with the stationary musts. The stamps will be pulled out each week as needed, but for now, they stay snug and secure in their pocket. One sheet of return address labels is emptied as each envelope receives its own.
Finally, as the TV drones on, and I give it only fleeting attention, I open my laptop and pull up my contacts. Quickly, I place the envelopes in alphabetical order and start writing in names.
When the stack is finished, I reorder them according to dates, so they are easily pulled each week, stamped, and mailed. Before closing them, though, I pull out the seemingly impersonal card, pray for words of encouragement and wisdom, and write my heart of celebration, gratitude, and joy for the one who will find the joy of her/his name in human writing. Sometimes I write a prayer, sometimes a word of encouragement. Always something heartfelt.
It is my way of touching heart when hands are too far apart and letting someone know that in my life, they are noteworthy.
As much as I love a good email, I love real mail even more. It is a thrill to open my mailbox and find an envelope with my name written with a human hand. There is wondrous joy in seeing that someone valued me enough to take time to address an envelope and jot down love on paper.
In the world we live in, love often takes a backseat and value gets hidden under to do lists. It takes a deliberate choice of action to make people the priority they need to be.
I choose to live deliberately.
During a lull in the day, I amass my supplies within my reach on the couch. Boxes with event labels on the end, pen, and home organizer notebook. My laptop sits closed on the floor awaiting its turn.
Beside me is my cup of chocolate milk or coffee, and before me, the TV glows soft with a heart-filled movie or TV show. The story of wounds too real becoming hearts restored plays on as I do my share to contribute to heart health.
I flip open the book to the blue sheets under the tab "Cards and Dates". Four columns per page. Each column a month of names, birthdays and anniversaries.
"Lord, show me the right card and give me the right words."
I open the boxes I have bought in bulk at the store--the only way I can find time or budget to supply so many cards.
I begin with next month's list. Three anniversaries. I read the cards sometimes more than once until I know which card goes with which couple. I write the name on the front and the date in the upper right hand corner--where it is easily covered by a stamp.
Next, I look through the names for children's birthdays. Then I find cards for the men (because there are always fewer of those). Finally, each lady on my list is given a card.
When I am done, three months of cards lay before me with name and date written on the front and a card tucked loosely inside.
Then I pull out my gold folder with the stationary musts. The stamps will be pulled out each week as needed, but for now, they stay snug and secure in their pocket. One sheet of return address labels is emptied as each envelope receives its own.
Finally, as the TV drones on, and I give it only fleeting attention, I open my laptop and pull up my contacts. Quickly, I place the envelopes in alphabetical order and start writing in names.
When the stack is finished, I reorder them according to dates, so they are easily pulled each week, stamped, and mailed. Before closing them, though, I pull out the seemingly impersonal card, pray for words of encouragement and wisdom, and write my heart of celebration, gratitude, and joy for the one who will find the joy of her/his name in human writing. Sometimes I write a prayer, sometimes a word of encouragement. Always something heartfelt.
It is my way of touching heart when hands are too far apart and letting someone know that in my life, they are noteworthy.
Tuesday, February 16, 2010
The Choice
My feet are tired, and my body is ready to be stilled, to stretch out. It has been a good day, but a long day. We are tired. Beside me, the Man of my Dreams dozes off into a much needed rest. Down the hall, I hear the voices of the children as they wind down from their still burning excitement. I recline here staring into the glow of my computer screen, so tired, not ready to sleep.
Sometimes my heart's incredible need to know and be known is more enticing than my body's need for rest, and in this quiet, I listen for a whisper, for His whisper.
When the house is buzzing and activity whirls around, I can sit and read my Bible, maybe journal, slip in a prayer, but it is now, when the distractions are silenced and my heart is still that I hear the best. It is when I determine to create an intimate rendezvous instead of hoping bumping into Him throughout the day will somehow allow me to see enough of Him to know Him, to learn His character, to witness His whole heart. It is more than a need for Him to do something. It is my need to be something. To be His. To be consumed by Him.
To my wonderment, He seems to need the same. To be mine. To be consumed by me.
How does one meet such a Lover? How do affairs with passion this deep begin? How do they continue?
All great love affairs happen the same way.
By choice.
I choose to turn off the TV and the computer.
I choose to value Him more than a chat group or any of the writers of the blogs I enjoy.
I choose to stay up a little later or get up a bit earlier to listen to His heart and to share mine.
I choose to notice the innumerable ways He says He loves me daily.
I choose to believe He acts determinedly, not by coincidence.
I choose to believe Him when He says He'd rather die than live without me.
I choose to avoid things that would hurt Him or draw my heart from Him.
I choose to read His love letter and believe He means every word.
A great love affair is not something that happens by coincidence. It will never be convenient, and life will do everything to steal it. A truly wondrous love affair is created through actions and choices. It is a determined goal that is reached a hundred different ways each day. It is a consuming thought process that asks how to speak value to the Lover.
It is a choice.
A choice He made first...a choice that gives me every reason to choose Him.
Sometimes my heart's incredible need to know and be known is more enticing than my body's need for rest, and in this quiet, I listen for a whisper, for His whisper.
When the house is buzzing and activity whirls around, I can sit and read my Bible, maybe journal, slip in a prayer, but it is now, when the distractions are silenced and my heart is still that I hear the best. It is when I determine to create an intimate rendezvous instead of hoping bumping into Him throughout the day will somehow allow me to see enough of Him to know Him, to learn His character, to witness His whole heart. It is more than a need for Him to do something. It is my need to be something. To be His. To be consumed by Him.
To my wonderment, He seems to need the same. To be mine. To be consumed by me.
How does one meet such a Lover? How do affairs with passion this deep begin? How do they continue?
All great love affairs happen the same way.
By choice.
I choose to turn off the TV and the computer.
I choose to value Him more than a chat group or any of the writers of the blogs I enjoy.
I choose to stay up a little later or get up a bit earlier to listen to His heart and to share mine.
I choose to notice the innumerable ways He says He loves me daily.
I choose to believe He acts determinedly, not by coincidence.
I choose to believe Him when He says He'd rather die than live without me.
I choose to avoid things that would hurt Him or draw my heart from Him.
I choose to read His love letter and believe He means every word.
A great love affair is not something that happens by coincidence. It will never be convenient, and life will do everything to steal it. A truly wondrous love affair is created through actions and choices. It is a determined goal that is reached a hundred different ways each day. It is a consuming thought process that asks how to speak value to the Lover.
It is a choice.
A choice He made first...a choice that gives me every reason to choose Him.
Thursday, February 11, 2010
Encamped About by His Presence
Precious Ann Voskamp at A Holy Experience posted "How the Work You Do Today Can Last Forever" today. It reminded me of a very scary night that reminded me how deeply loved we are and how the Lord encamps around us. I hope it helps you see Jesus more clearly in your life, too.
Encamped About by His Presence
His face went numb, standing in front of me. I saw the fear flash in his eyes as feeling seeped from his arm as well.
I stared sure what I was seeing was not really happening, but the dead silence spoke too loudly for me to believe it a dream.
I knew these symptoms. Loved members of my family had gone numb.
He would see how he felt in the morning he assured me as he tried to rub feeling back to his face.
I grabbed my laptop and typed madly. Symptoms…numb…right arm…
Article after article, pages blinding with the same answer…and one authoritative command. “Treating a stroke within the first hour can prevent damage…”
He picked up his coat and wallet. Do not wake the little ones sleeping soundly. He’d go by himself.
My heart walked out the door with him.
The sound of the car was still filling the house when I reached for the phone. No biological family near. Only adopted ones. Despite the late hour, he picked up. “What’s wrong?” People do not call to chat at that hour of the night.
I explain the symptoms. I explain the children sleeping. I explain he went alone. I do not have to ask. “Jerri, I’ll call you from the ER.”
An eternity rolls by in the next thirty minutes. I fill the time calling friends, asking for prayer. They pray. I feel it. I do not sleep, but I do not fear. I sit and thank the Lord for His presence in Spirit and in the bodies of those who love us.
A call comes. They are running tests. He is coherent. Feeling is returning.
A whispered thank you…to God for His presence…and to our friend for his.
The night grows long. In the early a.m. hours, the phone rings. Prayer warriors asking for updates. I share what I know. They will pray until the Lord lets them sleep. I promise a phone call when I know answers.
The sun is waking up when the final call comes. All is normal. We are coming home.
We.
The husband with returned feeling. The Provider of healing, comfort, and presence. The friend who shows us how Jesus looks in flesh.
And now we all rest.
The warriors rest from their prayers and slip into sleep with praise on their lips. The neighbor calls to work. Family emergency. Will be in late. He needs to rest. I spoon with the husband returned to me. My body slips toward sleep, and I rest…in the timeless love that embraces us…in the ever loving King who encamps so tightly around the lives He gives us…through the people who fill them.
Copyright Jerri Phillips 2010
Encamped About by His Presence
His face went numb, standing in front of me. I saw the fear flash in his eyes as feeling seeped from his arm as well.
I stared sure what I was seeing was not really happening, but the dead silence spoke too loudly for me to believe it a dream.
I knew these symptoms. Loved members of my family had gone numb.
He would see how he felt in the morning he assured me as he tried to rub feeling back to his face.
I grabbed my laptop and typed madly. Symptoms…numb…right arm…
Article after article, pages blinding with the same answer…and one authoritative command. “Treating a stroke within the first hour can prevent damage…”
He picked up his coat and wallet. Do not wake the little ones sleeping soundly. He’d go by himself.
My heart walked out the door with him.
The sound of the car was still filling the house when I reached for the phone. No biological family near. Only adopted ones. Despite the late hour, he picked up. “What’s wrong?” People do not call to chat at that hour of the night.
I explain the symptoms. I explain the children sleeping. I explain he went alone. I do not have to ask. “Jerri, I’ll call you from the ER.”
An eternity rolls by in the next thirty minutes. I fill the time calling friends, asking for prayer. They pray. I feel it. I do not sleep, but I do not fear. I sit and thank the Lord for His presence in Spirit and in the bodies of those who love us.
A call comes. They are running tests. He is coherent. Feeling is returning.
A whispered thank you…to God for His presence…and to our friend for his.
The night grows long. In the early a.m. hours, the phone rings. Prayer warriors asking for updates. I share what I know. They will pray until the Lord lets them sleep. I promise a phone call when I know answers.
The sun is waking up when the final call comes. All is normal. We are coming home.
We.
The husband with returned feeling. The Provider of healing, comfort, and presence. The friend who shows us how Jesus looks in flesh.
And now we all rest.
The warriors rest from their prayers and slip into sleep with praise on their lips. The neighbor calls to work. Family emergency. Will be in late. He needs to rest. I spoon with the husband returned to me. My body slips toward sleep, and I rest…in the timeless love that embraces us…in the ever loving King who encamps so tightly around the lives He gives us…through the people who fill them.
Copyright Jerri Phillips 2010
Monday, December 28, 2009
My Thoughts on Tiger Woods, Elin, and God's Redemptive Power
I am not one to weight in on the Hollywood babble business. In fact, I only recall one time when I had anything to say about specific celebrity character. You can wander through my archives and see that I could empathize all too well with Michael Vick and his need for salvation, redemption, and restoration. No, I've never fought dogs, but I have sinned, and I am as much in need of God's mercy and the Holy Spirit's heart changing within me as he is.
Now, I again empathize with a celebrity that has proven too human for most folks' tastes.
Today I was on Facebook, and someone made a off-hand comment about Tiger needing to talk to a variety of other "fallen" sports figures so people who know how to spin things can deal with the media, his sponsors, and so on.
Let me put this in clear perspective for you. A Christian is saying Tiger Woods needs to find folks who can make his lie look better and get him out of hot water with folks. If that weren't enough, the focus is all about the folks that don't matter in the first place. The focus has nothing to do with his family, specifically his wife. Why not? Isn't she the one that he needs to reach at this point?
I wonder: is it that this person, and others like her, are so worldly that the world's way of thinking pervades their thoughts, or are they so hopeless that God does not pervade their thoughts?
This is the way I see it. Tiger and his family don't need spin doctors. They don't need caustic remarks or shallow attempts at humor at their expense.
Tiger Woods and his lovely wife need to know Jesus and His restorative and redeeming power. They need to be inundated with letters from people who have survived adultery, been healed from its desires and effects, and walk in God's restoration of their covenant.
Either God is sovereign--even over adultery--or He's not.
Do Tiger and Elin know that? Do people in the church? If we do, why aren't we spending our time praying for them instead of trashing them? If we don't, how can we hope they ever will?
And in case you are wondering, I know God is sovereign. It is more than a belief. It is absolute assurance to the core of my being. If you need someone to pray with you or stand with you, please contact me via my profile email. God's heart is always for healing, redemption, salvation, and restoration. Always.
Now, I again empathize with a celebrity that has proven too human for most folks' tastes.
Today I was on Facebook, and someone made a off-hand comment about Tiger needing to talk to a variety of other "fallen" sports figures so people who know how to spin things can deal with the media, his sponsors, and so on.
Let me put this in clear perspective for you. A Christian is saying Tiger Woods needs to find folks who can make his lie look better and get him out of hot water with folks. If that weren't enough, the focus is all about the folks that don't matter in the first place. The focus has nothing to do with his family, specifically his wife. Why not? Isn't she the one that he needs to reach at this point?
I wonder: is it that this person, and others like her, are so worldly that the world's way of thinking pervades their thoughts, or are they so hopeless that God does not pervade their thoughts?
This is the way I see it. Tiger and his family don't need spin doctors. They don't need caustic remarks or shallow attempts at humor at their expense.
Tiger Woods and his lovely wife need to know Jesus and His restorative and redeeming power. They need to be inundated with letters from people who have survived adultery, been healed from its desires and effects, and walk in God's restoration of their covenant.
Either God is sovereign--even over adultery--or He's not.
Do Tiger and Elin know that? Do people in the church? If we do, why aren't we spending our time praying for them instead of trashing them? If we don't, how can we hope they ever will?
And in case you are wondering, I know God is sovereign. It is more than a belief. It is absolute assurance to the core of my being. If you need someone to pray with you or stand with you, please contact me via my profile email. God's heart is always for healing, redemption, salvation, and restoration. Always.
Friday, December 25, 2009
The Gifts of Jesus
If I could give you all a gift today, I would give you Christ, not as you probably know Him, but as the passionate pursuer of you, His Beloved.
I would give you Christ the Healer who desires to heal your body, mind, and spirit, who isn't afraid of your hurts or the anger and hopelessness that may go with them.
I would give you a Counselor who can help you move beyond all boundaries and prisons, preconceived ideas, small-minded lies spoken by small-minded and small-faithed people, and fear so you can live in the wildness of who He is, into the wildness of who you were created to be in Him.
I would give you the Savior who can take everything you've ever done and rip its weight from you and let you fly in Him.
I would give you the Friend who is too good to be true, the one that never leaves, the one that always understands, the one who is never afraid of being real, and who only speaks the Truth--loving, uplifting, life-giving. The one who never has alterior motives, but always leads you back where you need to go, to the real you, to the real God.
I would give you the Jesus that values you more than you value yourself, the one that knows how special you really are, the one who embraces your strengths...and weaknesses, and sees unfathomable potential in you.
I would give you the Jesus that right now is calling your name with arms open wide, hodling out all of these gifts and more, and I would give you the courage to believe everything He promises you.
In fact, I offer Him to you now.
If you have never accepted Jesus as your Savior or if there is some other aspect of Him I have described that you do not know, His gifts are only a prayer away. He is no respecter of persons, and He never turns away someone who seeks Him. All you need do is ask.
Salvation is not complicated. To receive Jesus as your Savior, you need to confess that you are a sinner, that you believe He died to save you from those sins, and that you want Him to forgive you for them. Ask Him to be all He wants to be in your life. He wants to be all I've listed and more.
If you are saved but don't know Jesus as a Counselor, Healer, Lover, Friend, or a myriad of other facets of His identity, ask Him to reveal Himself to you as such. Ask Him to open your eyes to see Him that way. If you are like me, you may need to ask Him to free you from beliefs the prevent you from seeing Him in all His fullness. He will. He is excited to share Himself with you. I have found we underestimate His passion for us far more than we overstate it.
And maybe you need the gift of seeing yourself as He sees you. If so, that is available for the asking, too. Again, you may need to ask for the courage to believe what He says and to embrace it so you can live in the Truth of you. He will give you that gift as well.
If you have questions or have accepted Jesus as your Savior and want more information, please contact me via my profile. You'll find my email there, or post a comment here. Nothing shows up without my approval, so if you want to comment with your contact information but not have it public, just let me know.
Merry Christmas, dear ones! May you find the greatest gifts of all in the only One who can give you everything you need!
I would give you Christ the Healer who desires to heal your body, mind, and spirit, who isn't afraid of your hurts or the anger and hopelessness that may go with them.
I would give you a Counselor who can help you move beyond all boundaries and prisons, preconceived ideas, small-minded lies spoken by small-minded and small-faithed people, and fear so you can live in the wildness of who He is, into the wildness of who you were created to be in Him.
I would give you the Savior who can take everything you've ever done and rip its weight from you and let you fly in Him.
I would give you the Friend who is too good to be true, the one that never leaves, the one that always understands, the one who is never afraid of being real, and who only speaks the Truth--loving, uplifting, life-giving. The one who never has alterior motives, but always leads you back where you need to go, to the real you, to the real God.
I would give you the Jesus that values you more than you value yourself, the one that knows how special you really are, the one who embraces your strengths...and weaknesses, and sees unfathomable potential in you.
I would give you the Jesus that right now is calling your name with arms open wide, hodling out all of these gifts and more, and I would give you the courage to believe everything He promises you.
In fact, I offer Him to you now.
If you have never accepted Jesus as your Savior or if there is some other aspect of Him I have described that you do not know, His gifts are only a prayer away. He is no respecter of persons, and He never turns away someone who seeks Him. All you need do is ask.
Salvation is not complicated. To receive Jesus as your Savior, you need to confess that you are a sinner, that you believe He died to save you from those sins, and that you want Him to forgive you for them. Ask Him to be all He wants to be in your life. He wants to be all I've listed and more.
If you are saved but don't know Jesus as a Counselor, Healer, Lover, Friend, or a myriad of other facets of His identity, ask Him to reveal Himself to you as such. Ask Him to open your eyes to see Him that way. If you are like me, you may need to ask Him to free you from beliefs the prevent you from seeing Him in all His fullness. He will. He is excited to share Himself with you. I have found we underestimate His passion for us far more than we overstate it.
And maybe you need the gift of seeing yourself as He sees you. If so, that is available for the asking, too. Again, you may need to ask for the courage to believe what He says and to embrace it so you can live in the Truth of you. He will give you that gift as well.
If you have questions or have accepted Jesus as your Savior and want more information, please contact me via my profile. You'll find my email there, or post a comment here. Nothing shows up without my approval, so if you want to comment with your contact information but not have it public, just let me know.
Merry Christmas, dear ones! May you find the greatest gifts of all in the only One who can give you everything you need!
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