The only way to really be ready for what’s ahead…
Perusing my planner is like a form of therapy for me. I love planning. I love calendar squares (I’m a paper girl), and blank spaces (and an introvert), and scheduling out school years and Bible studies and populating those pages with neat-and-tidy plans.
Of course the actual days ahead aren’t neat-and-tidy at all, but I still enjoy the process.
Over the last few months, I’ve been meditating on a shift in mindset that just might be what keeps us sane, and, Lord willing, faithful and effective, in the days and years to come:
Shifting from PLANNING to PREPARING.
Perhaps this is already clear to you, but just in case this might be helpful to someone, I’ll bear the risk of stating the obvious:
In late pregnancy, my midwives asked me to create a Birth Plan. This is a standard practice for every expecting Mama—creating a document that outlines your desires for the birth process, so that all the care providers can reference it and carry out your wishes.
With my first two births, I didn’t do this, because quite frankly, I didn’t care what happened. I wasn’t prepared at all, so I sort of threw myself at the mercy of my midwives and doctors, and decided that whatever happened was okay with me. Thankfully, everything went fine, and I honestly think God graciously gave me a pretty easy experience because He knew I couldn’t have handled anything more. Not kidding—I was so unprepared!
So that’s one philosophy: Skip the planning, skip the preparing, throw up your hands and say, “What will be will be!” or “It is what it is!” and celebrate your own indifference.
We see this at work in permissive parenting—really relaxed parents with really wild children. It’s cool and all that Mom’s so chill, but everyone around them wishes she wasn’t quite so laid back!
See, this mindset exalts flexibility above all, and while it’s certainly more attractive than white-knuckled control, it also falls short of walking out God’s good plans.
On the other extreme, you have the hard-core planners. The Birth Plan is a blow-by-blow uber-detailed document that outlines everything from the temperature of the room to how many candles should be lit and what volume the Enya music should play. I’m joking, of course, but we can go pretty hog wild planning out our perfect birth!
This parenting style seeks to control everything—from the kids’ environment to their every bite of food to what they wear, etc. While this can work for awhile, eventually that outward control will be eliminated, and these kids haven’t been prepared to make their own wise choices in the world.
When I followed my midwives’ orders and wrote my document, I titled it, “My Birth Requests” and I chose to only write out things that were reasonable responses to various scenarios. I’ll admit, part of it was hard to do—I didn’t want to specify which hospital to transfer me to, in case of emergency, but the reality is emergencies happen, so rather than try to control every outcome, or ignore the possibility of undesirable outcomes, I could prepare my heart, mind, and caregivers for what was ahead.
As I shared in the birth story, I found that Psalm 131 was what brought out a critical shift in my mind: A switch from PLANNING for this birth and baby, to PREPARING.
By God’s grace, I feel like I went into the event prepared, which involved tossing all my plans out the window and choosing to focus on the one thing I could control: My own self.
My mind. My heart. My perspective.
We see this at play all the time in life. How many dozens of times have Jeff and I counseled couples,
“Don’t just plan a wedding, PREPARE for marriage.”
We can plan nursery color schemes and birth plans, or we can prepare to be parents.
We can make grand retirement plans, or we can prepare for the unknowns of the future.
As I look around I see several examples of people doing this well:
My parents: I guarantee you my Dad did not plan on spending his “free” years of retirement “stuck” at home as full-time caretaker for his disabled wife. The years when he has all the time and money he needs to travel and do whatever he wants, instead he is faithfully and humbly cooking and cleaning, caring for all her personal needs, sitting with her for hours on end as she tries to string together sentences, devoting his days, thousands of them, to her daily needs.
Why can he do this so well? Not because this was his plan.
Because he prepared. Because when he said, “I do,” he meant it. Because he counted the cost and has spent nearly 48 years making right choices to love and honor. He has, every day of his marriage, prepared his heart to be faithful, over and over and over and over.
This was not his plan, but he was prepared, and the result is a beautiful godly example of true love.
My dear friends whose daughter was tragically killed in a car accident. Of course that horrific situation was not their plan. But they were able to respond with supernatural grace, forgiveness, and love, they were able to weather this horrendous storm, because their hearts were prepared. How?
The preparation of the gospel of peace (Eph. 6:15).
Every time we meditate on the gospel, re-tell our hearts the gospel, re-learn the gospel, re-focus on the gospel, every time we choose to live and think in line with the gospel, we prepare ourselves for the future that only God can see.
This is so much more than just “plan for the best, prepare for the worst.”
This is a complete reorientation of our lives, minds, hearts, around the truth of who Jesus is and what He’s done for us, so that what naturally comes out of us is strength, grace, patience, forgiveness, love, kindness, endurance.
This is becoming like Jesus so that when your cross comes, you can respond like Him.
“‘Father, forgive them, they know not what they do.'” (Luke 23:34)
“He opened not His mouth.” (Isaiah 53:7)
“When he was reviled, he did not revile in return; when he suffered, he did not threaten, but continued entrusting himself to him who judges justly.” (1 Peter 2:23)
This is so much more beautiful than detached indifference or white-knuckled control. This is the preparation of the gospel of peace, this is how the Heavenly Father prepares His children for the future only He can see. This is refusing fear, denial, or mere positive-thinking. This is how the Proverbs 31 woman “laughs at the days to come.”(v. 25)
You too can have the uncanny ability to smile at the future, because you’ve let Christ prepare your heart. Confidence is yours.
{On this journey of the unknown, with you. Thanks for reading.}
How Justice Came: Delivery (2 of 2)
Continuing from part one » How Justice Came: Preparations
After sleeping soundly through the night, I woke at 7am Saturday morning with a contraction.
Not painful or intense, but definitely a contraction. I had never had them during the day, so that was a bit different from usual. Dutch had just crawled into our bed on Jeff’s side, and since he doesn’t snuggle with his body but rather with his words, I curled up close to him and listened to his latest lecture on some aspect of Lord of the Rings. Something about Smaug.
Another mild contraction.
I got up. Now let me tell you, after having hundreds of contractions and a dozen false-alarms, I didn’t even want to think about announcing labor unless it was well underway. I went along the morning as usual, mild contractions coming about every 6-7 minutes. I went out to the garden, pulled weeds, ate peas, and periodically timed squeezes.
At 10am I told Jeff that I’d been having mild, regular contractions, so thought I’d go lay down and rest and see if they’d stop. At this point I didn’t want to “try to get things going” because I’d done that so many times, I just wanted to try to make things stop, and see if true labor might actually progress.
Sure enough, I laid down for a nap, and they slowed way down. *sigh* I rested for an hour, thinking that was probably the end and we had another normal day ahead.
But as soon as I got back up, they began again. Slowly over the next hour, they intensified a little and were consistently 3-4 min apart. By 12 I just wanted to be alone. They weren’t overwhelming, I just found myself irritated by any interactions with the kids, and kept wanting to close my eyes and be alone. The kids were eager to get to my parents’ house and play with cousins, so I asked Jeff to take them there so I could have some time alone. Even if this wasn’t real labor, they’d get to play and I’d get to relax.
While he was gone, things ramped up a bit. When he got back at 1pm I had my earbuds in and was outside on our patio, listening to soft nature music and breathing through contractions. My back hurt so he pressed my back with each contraction.
From that moment on, for 7.5 hours straight, Jeff never left my side.
At 2pm, I texted my midwife to see if I could come into the birth center. I knew I wasn’t super far along, but I felt uncertain about how to even know how far I was. The contractions weren’t super strong but they were close together and consistent. I knew the “labor at home as long as you can” rule, but we also live 30 minutes from the birth center, and after so many false alarms, I found myself wanting some sort of check point. She agreed to meet us there.
After arriving, she confirmed I was only 3.5 cm, so would need to labor some more at home. She also suggested doing three 30-minute Spinning Babies techniques to get baby spun around to a better position. She said things usually pick up more at night, so perhaps by the evening time things would progress more.
Gratefully, I wasn’t discouraged (though Jeff told me the next day that he was!). Even though I had to go home, Justice WAS coming. This wasn’t a false alarm. I was dilating. This baby was coming, and God had perfectly prepared me for exactly this moment.
On our drive home, I texted a few praying friends and asked them to please pray that things would progress.
Pray they did!
By the time we got home at 3:30, things were already much more intense. I did the forward inversions for 30-minutes straight and YOW! that got things moving! The next 30-minute stretch was even more intense, this baby was most certainly moving! Before I could finish the last 30-minutes Jeff called the midwife back and she could hear me 😉 so she said it was time to come back in.
I’m not sure how descriptive of a birth blow-by-blow y’all want here on this blog, so if you love birth stories and want more details I’m happy to share. 😉 The short version is we arrived back at the birth center at 5:30. I labored to Hard Love in my earbuds for an hour and a half.
Jeff was right beside me and held my hand through every single contraction.
With my hand in his, it was so awesome to just completely block everything out and focus on those amazing lyrics. It was the perfect picture of embracing pain, struggle, of setting oneself aside for the sake of giving life to another.
It was intense, it was hard, but it was a hard love.
My water broke and they thought I was fully dilated at 7pm, but strangely enough I felt like God had impressed on me that Justice would come at 8-something. So I knew it couldn’t yet be time. Besides, it didn’t seem difficult enough.
Yep, turns out I still had a little ways to go.
Then things ramped up and I needed a change. So I turned to Resurrection Day. Yes! THIS, this was my resurrection day. This was the day of redemption.
This was the day God rewrote those words above my head, changed them from WEAK to WARRIOR.
Not in my strength. Not in a pride, puffed up way. In a way that recognizes that in myself, I am nothing. In Christ, everything.
This wasn’t about having something to prove, it was about HIM PROVING HIMSELF to me, and showing His resurrection power in me.
I broke into a huge smile and praised God. Four midwives standing around, I was able to close my eyes and worship God.
Resurrection day!
The end was …*ahem* intense. No music. At 7:30 I sensed my spirit weakening. I was slipping…the thought slowly crept into my head,
“I can’t do this…”
NO. I knew that I couldn’t speak that out. Yes, the thought was there. The feeling was there. That’s legit. But I didn’t have to speak it. I didn’t have to give it life. I didn’t have to give power to it.
If I learned anything during our difficult year, it was the absolute necessity of taking every thought captive. Yes, we have them. They are legit feelings. But we can CHOOSE whether they get to take residence in our hearts and minds.
God’s exhortation to take every thought captive isn’t a sweet little suggestion—it’s necessary for survival in the life of faith.
So instead I wrapped my arms around Jeff’s neck, squeezed myself into his chest as hard as I could, and whimpered into his ear,
“Please…pray for me. Please.”
And He did. And, unbeknownst to me, so did several dear friends—all around 7:30 struck with an urgent need to pray for me.
That gave just the breakthrough I needed.
At 8:15, we stalled again a bit, and again one of the amazing midwives did some techniques to get over that last hump and BOOM, there he quickly descended.
Leaning on Jeff, with my arms wrapped tightly around his neck, my face right next to his, holding each other…
WE, TOGETHER, AS ONE, brought Justice into the world.
“Oh Justice! Justice! Oh Justice! I love you!”
Tears and exhaustion and relief and sweat and blood all mingled up into inexpressible JOY and triumph. Justice was here! We did it!
And yes, I may have said to Jeff shortly thereafter, “I don’t know if I want to do that again.” Haha!
BUT, it was worth it, and although I want this little boy to be able to just be a little boy—no expectations, I know that God has a special plan for his life. And I continue to hear interesting tidbits about God’s JUSTICE coming. Just one hour after Justice’s birth this was shared on Facebook. I don’t know this person, but it was sent to me by another, and is certainly interesting. No matter what, we are wise to line up with God’s Word and pray for His justice on this earth, for truth to surface and sin to be found out, for mercy and justice to be extended to the poor and marginalized, the helpless and voiceless.
I have no idea if Justice will himself be part of this. (We won’t occupy ourselves with anything too great and marvelous for us, just reveling in this moment.) For today, we just cheer when he poops and takes a good nap. We celebrate his perfect squishy goodness and kiss his cheeks and lips and LOVE HIM to pieces, just for being the little boy that He is.
Just how God is with us.
And honestly, even more than my joy over Justice, I am overwhelmed with joy over Jeff. Yes, I love this baby. But Jeff will be by my side long after Justice spreads his wings and flies.
I’ll tell you what: The most difficult part of last year was a low-point in our marriage that was completely my fault. I allowed thoughts to take residence unchallenged: negative, critical, selfish, undisciplined thoughts that caused my heart to cool. But Jeff fiercely fought for my affections. He pursued me when I was distant. He served me when I was selfish. He was undaunted by my indifference and won my heart back over more fully than ever before.
This experience, of laboring together to bring Justice into this world, was the glorious culmination of our hard-won love. In my previous labors, I would have said, “I could never have done it without my anesthesiologist!” (Nothing wrong with that, just sayin!) This time I can honestly say, “I could never ever have done it, without my husband.”
So, dear friends, that’s the story. Of course it’s not over, but I’m putting my feet up for a moment and just thanking God for His faithfulness. Thank you for following along on this journey. Until next time…
…thanks for reading.
How Justice Came: Preparations (1)
Yesterday, I drove a familiar route and a flood of memories filled my mind.
It was the first time on that road since September 16th of last year, when I drove home in a wild mess of bewildered, angry tears.
It had been a long 9 months. We’d lost two babies through miscarriage (I wrote about HERE), and walked through an incredibly intense season of trial. There was outward grief and hidden, inner grief. There was sorrow and shame and then, after the miscarriage on Aug 7th, my sweet friend’s precious 16-year-old son passed away. A team of us had prayed, fasted, interceded, believed…and now I sat in silent shock.
September 16th was his memorial, and that seemed to break the dam of pent-up grief, anger, fear. I already wrote about it HERE, realizing that He holds a map I cannot see. Little did I know, when I wrote that post, that just two days later Jeff’s dad would die tragically, suddenly, and the river of grief would deepen, widen, for us both.
But friends, as you know, sorrow may last for the night, but joy DOES come in the morning.
Our morning came in early November when two little pink lines confirmed my suspicion. I was pregnant. Hope is an indefatigable thing, and it swells quickly into a wave you can ride forward into the future. I felt it. I felt certain, somehow, this baby would live.
But there were bouts of fear to overcome. I shared HERE about the scare on Christmas day that brought the blessed dream of our boy, and was later confirmed that indeed, Justice was coming.
And so, we eagerly anticipated the arrival of this child. One of the interesting things I sifted through was how many prophecies seemed to surround his coming. For example, there was reason to believe he might be born on May 14th. Though this seemed unlikely, I felt obligated to prepare myself in case this was a reality (NICU, etc.). It also seemed that somehow Justice’s arrival had something to do with justice coming to the nation of Israel, to the Jews, God’s people. In my own heart and mind, I prayed that his birth would bring Justice for Oma, and that perhaps she would be healed. I won’t go into them all, but it seemed everywhere I turned there was some layer of significance seeming to surround his birth.
While this is most certainly wonderful, it was a lot to process. I found myself trying to figure out just why God would so clearly call us to birth a child named Justice, I analyzed and evaluated, sorting through so many dates, ideas, verses, prophecies. I share this because I want to paint a realistic picture of following God. Usually, we don’t get a clear and detailed explanation. I did not want to despise any prophecy, but test all things and hold fast to what is good (1 Thess 5:21), so I tried to hold these things loosely. Believing God, but not putting too much stock in my own ability to figure things out.
That was good, because I figured exactly nothing out. 😉 Which is totally fine. Usually God shows us things in the rearview mirror.
Alongside the spiritual aspect of Justice’s coming, there was the physical aspect. Not only had it been almost 10 years since birthing a baby, we were opting for a natural, unmedicated, birth-center delivery. This was most certainly a new experience, and I wasn’t sure what to expect. Friends generously dropped two key books into my lap (Mama Natural’s week-by-week guide and Hypnobirthing) and another friend invited me to a 10-week video course and FB community on natural childbirth by Karen Welton. These things were hugely helpful! I watched the videos and read the books, although I admittedly spent way more time thinking about the spiritual aspects, than the physical.
In other words, I didn’t have a clue how hard the labor process would be. 😉
Not only that, but I still very much saw myself in control of this process. I had clear expectations and requests on how I wanted things to go. And some of that is fine, Karen Welton talks about relating to God your heart’s desires for your labor process. That’s part of intimately relating withe the Father. I don’t regret a bit of it. I prayed for a specific day. I wrote out an idea of how I’d like it to progress. All of these things were fueled by a desire to make it as stress-free for others involved in our life. I didn’t want to put strain on our church, on Jeff, on the kids, or on my parents. I didn’t want to make others work around me.
I wanted Justice’s coming to slip seamlessly into our life, without a wrinkle.
(You’re smiling, right?)
As you all know, this didn’t happen. When prodromal labor began at 39 weeks, the unraveling began. But each point of frustration was a critically important adjustment, and I would soon realize, a necessary preparation for what was ahead. First, I learned HERE that Our labor is never in vain, then HERE that the certainty enables us to wait joyfully, and finally, the most critical lesson, How to calm and quiet your soul. This one was especially key because it freed me to relinquish any and all expectations and release myself into His care and perfect timing.
That very next night, I had the most intense false-labor yet. I really thought it was real. My kids went to my parents, and I labored for almost 4 hours before everything stopped. Monday morning I was at an all-time low. For some reason I was left super puffy and sore from the previous night’s labor (I learned more about this later), and delirious with fatigue. I went for a walk, and let loose the torrent of tears to God.
“What do you WANT from me?! Haven’t I already died to myself enough?! Am I not dead enough for you?! Why are you doing this to me?”
Silence.
Thankfully, our visiting family for the week was the most kind and compassionate you can imagine. My sister-in-law went 2 weeks overdue with her 2nd child, and she was the perfectly empathetic friend, genuinely understanding and sharing some of her own journey. Another friend called and shared a significant insight–suggesting that perhaps there was an underlying fear or anxiety that was somehow halting the labor experience. I didn’t know what that was, but I instantly cried at the suggestion, so I knew perhaps there was some underlying current of anxiety.
That afternoon, Jeff and I sat lawn chairs in the river and had time to process and pray. As we prayed, I realized that, indeed, I had some fears and anxieties. The bottom line of it was–every false-labor experience had seemed to erode my confidence in God’s willingness to carry me through labor successfully. Each day, my supposed pillar of faith wore down, farther and farther, until now it was barely visible. Further, my mom’s deterioration in health seemed to mock my faith at an even deeper level.
The voices mocked, God hasn’t answered your prayers for your mom, why on earth would He answer your prayers for this birth?
See, I knew, deep down, that I was not a tough person. Some women are. I would never have made it in the pioneer days. I would have died, or I would have complained so much they’d have left me behind. 😉 I like to think I’m tough but I’m not. I was begging for an epidural at both of my first births. I knew, deep down, that I could not do this, and I doubted whether God would miraculously come through and provide me a birth story that would be anything other than traumatic.
That was it. The voice mocked: Why would God ever do this for you?
Like a broken dam, all the grief and insecurity came rushing out. I sobbed, choking out finally-honest prayers to God about how I really felt. Why I doubted Him. I told Him the truth about myself–that I knew how weak and wimpy I was and unless He came through for me I couldn’t do it.
And then, of course: Peace like a river.
From that point on, I can honestly say, I felt peace. I didn’t feel comfortable–Justice wasn’t born for another 5 days, but I had peace. At least everything was out in the open.
And, I realized, I had learned something else. During that night of false-labor, I had listening, non-stop, to one song on repeat: Hard Love by Need to Breathe, with Lauren Daigle. Everything about that song makes me want to rise up and overcome. As I began to reflect more on the lyrics, I realized–God had given me that song. I would need it for when true labor came. Especially the lines:
Trading punches with the heart of darkness
Going to blows with your fear incarnate
Never gone until it’s stripped away
A part of you has gotta die today.
And I knew it did. In order for me to bring Justice into the world, I would need to die. Then:
It’s not enough to just feel the flame
You’ve gotta burn your old self away
Yes. Essentially, you have to embrace every agonizing contraction and let it wash over you, burning your old self away to make way for new life. Then:
Hold on tight a little longer
What don’t kill ya, makes ya stronger
Get back up, ’cause it’s a hard love
You can’t change without a fallout
It’s gon’ hurt, but don’t you slow down
Get back up, ’cause it’s a hard love
Gah! I start crying all over again just re-reading. I knew this was key:
I would need to die, but this process would not kill me. It would make me stronger. It would hurt, but I had to not slow down, but press forward, get back up, because labor-techniques aren’t what would ultimately bring Justice into the world.
LOVE is.
Hard love. Only if my strength was fueled by a hard LOVE for my son, would I be able to endure bravely.
That night, driving home, another song came on that I instantly knew would play a role in this process as well. Resurrection Day by Rend Collective.
Because You’re living I’m alive
Because Your cross is powerful
Because You rose invincible
I can get up off the floor
Nothing’s gonna hold me in the grave
This is my resurrection day
Nothing’s gonna hold me down
Say goodbye to my yesterdays
Ever since I met You I am changed
This is my resurrection day
Nothing’s gonna hold me down
Because my debt has all been paid
Because You stand in victory
Because You crushed the enemy
I can get up off the floor (get up off the floor)
This would be my victory song. Christ’s resurrection power IS at work in us. Because of His power, I can get up off the floor, so to speak, and bring Justice into the world.
In the four days that followed, I spent time every afternoon listening to worship, meditating on these truths, and practicing sinking into myself and focusing on God. On Thursday, I curled up with my earbuds, and again began relating and worshipping God. As I did, a flood of gratitude welled up in me. God had been preparing me all this time. All these “false alarms” were His generous, kind, gracious, tender advances of love, preparing me and helping me be ready for something that I was not prepared for in my own strength.
His delay was sheer grace, love, and mercy.
And then, after weeks and weeks of silence, I heard so clearly:
“You’re almost there. You’ve done such a good job.”
(And I’m sobbing again just remembering!) Tears fell as I felt the Father’s reassurance and loving approval wash over me. That was all I needed to know. My Dad was pleased.
I went outside and walked up and down the driveway for a long time, the joyful happy tears streaming down my face. Like a movie playing, I could the past 18-months play before my eyes. The wrestling and struggle and the eventual choice for vasectomy-reversal, the waiting and anticipating, the miscarriage, the months of personal struggle, the next pregnancy, the gazillion choices to trust, then losing that baby, then all the months of pregnancy–the thousand choices to trust, smile, choose faith. The morning sickness, the fear, the anxiety, the days and weeks and months of saying yes to God again and again and again. And as Lord of Hosts by Shane & Shane blared over and over on repeat I just poured out gratitude to God realizing:
Lord of Hosts, You’re with us
With us in the fire
With us as a shelter
With us in the storm
You will lead us
Through the fiercest battle
Oh where else would we go
But with the Lord of Hosts
And especially the line: God who makes the mountains melt, Come wrestle us and win.
Yes. I want God to wrestle me and WIN. I want His way. And He is WITH us in the battle. There were some battles during those 18 months. God dealt with some significant sin in my life. But He won. He won me. He won my heart.
He rescued me from me.
And so, I went into the weekend, somehow sensing that the work was already done. Yes, the actual labor would need to play out, but in a sense, it was complete.
I went to sleep Friday night settled, secure, rested, at peace.
{We’ll finish next time. Thanks for reading!}
How to calm and quiet your soul…
He took the phone call outside, but I could still hear.
“Yeah, that way everything’s in place, just in case. And if I am there, I can cover that part. Thanks so much, man.”
He was happy, of course. He was talking to one of his favorite friends, an elder at Renew, who is more than capable of covering all church responsibilities.
But I still felt bad. I knew it took extra effort on everyone’s part, having to “play it by ear” and somehow it felt like my fault. After he hung up I hefted myself out of the lawn chair and went over.
“I’m sorry you have to make all these arrangements because of me.”
Of course, he looked at me aghast.
“You’re sorry?! Sorry that you’re carrying our child and enduring and still loving and serving us every day! There’s nothing to be sorry for!” He held me tight and kissed the top of my head.
It’s strange, the emotions that slip in sometimes. I remember, after having my second miscarriage last year, feeling so bad, because my family was so heart-broken and it felt somehow like I’d let them down. Like it was my fault somehow for breaking their hearts. Rationally, I know that isn’t right, but have you ever felt that way? Like somehow you’re to blame?
And so, this morning, when I woke at 3:30am to the realization that I was still pregnant, and it was Sunday, and all that that entails, and that extended family arrives today, and it’s already the 15th and all the moving parts of our summer plans start whirring around in my brain, plus several pregnant-related complications I’m “managing” and ministry concerns and my prayer list is as long as my leg and my head spins and after 12 days of on-off contractions I’m mentally so tired.
And that’s just it. I realized this morning, I’m mentally so tired. Why? Because I’m an INTJ. Mastermind. Because my mind never stops moving. Because I am planning and coordinating and adjusting and considering all the blasted time and am just about to lose my ever-loving mind.
So this morning I open the Word, and here is King David saying,
“But I have calmed and quieted my soul,
like a weaned child with its mother;
like a weaned child is my soul within me.”
Well, I thought to myself, that most certainly does not describe me. But I want it to! I wrote in my journal, to my own heart and to my God:
How does one calm and quiet one’s soul?
I rested my head and closed my eyes. The truth was, I didn’t know. I wished I did. This little waiting-for-baby thing would pass, but no doubt there’d be another thing just up ahead, and I needed to KNOW this.
Then, no surprise: I realize the answer was the first verse of the Psalm. Just before that David, who was the KING of a nation, I might add, writes:
“Oh LORD, my heart is not lifted up; my eyes are not raised too high.
I do not occupy myself with things too great and too marvelous for me.”
Then he writes that he is has calmed and quiet his soul. But the first verse explains how.
By not playing God.
By not occupying my mind with things that aren’t my business. By refusing to “manage” what isn’t mine to manage. By stepping down from a lofty view of self. By not thinking it’s my responsibility to deliver on things I have no control to deliver on. By recognizing: I see from a hopelessly limited perspective and it is preposterous to think that I can even begin to understand how all these things will work together.
It is refusing to take on the work that only belongs to God.
Tears.
Of course that’s it. Of course. It is so incredibly humbling to be a like a little child. To be utterly dependent, “in the dark” so to speak, with regard to what it going on behind the scenes. For planners, managers, like me, it is stripping to your soul to be kept so entirely “out of the loop” of what is going on.
When God gives you no clue what He’s doing. When you ask Him what’s up and He’s absolutely silent.
I sit here marveling that David wrote this. That even the King of a nation knew he needed to calm and quiet his soul and not take on matters too marvelous for him. That no matter how high or low our position, we must remain like little children. Not because God wants to keep us low, or “in our place” but because He knows a precious secret:
That’s HOW you calm and quiet your soul. By letting Him to be God. And that is what we all truly need.
{Thanks for reading.}
Joy waiting for Justice
It was rather anticlimactic, to cross that “due date” calendar square out and still be pregnant. Especially since I’d really thought (for the 5th time) that I was in labor the night before. We had even taken the kids to my parent’s house for the night thinking “this was it.” Though it’s certainly common, I’ve never had false alarms like this, certainly not so many, and never gone past my due date. I also had really been praying for an early arrival, as I was hoping to attend a family camping trip and family wedding with Jeff in the coming weeks. As the days slipped by, I could feel the disappointment rising, and yesterday the fatigue and disappointment swelled up something fierce. It sounds so silly to an outsider, but anyone who’s waited for a baby knows that feeling, especially when you have a series of ups and downs: “This is it! Oh, this is not it.”
Lack of sleep doesn’t help either.
BUT.
Yesterday was so good. It was kind of freeing to feel like all my expectations were out the window, and I might as well just move on with LIFE and loving and serving and REJOICING, rather than focusing all my energy on waiting for Justice.
And I realized … there’s a lesson there for me.
The Bible (and the world!) is full of folks awaiting Justice. Folks legitimately suffering. Sure, I feel pretty uncomfortable. This baby is unlike the others I’ve carried, and he makes his presence known somethin’ fierce. I could barely walk yesterday morning. I’m really sick of sleeping on my side, my back hurts so bad, and this heartburn business is getting old. But these are the TINIEST irritations. I have legs. I have a bed. I have a husband who gives me back massages every night. I had the luxury of lounging in a swimming pool yesterday for crying out loud!
But as I mention in Sacred Mundane, these irritations, inconveniences, and small disappointments serve as “mundane sufferings” — that is, opportunities to put into practice what the Scriptures command about greater sufferings.
They are practice.
Every night that I’m kept awake with “false” labor, I tell myself: More opportunities to practice. To practice breathing, practice relaxing, practice all the things I’ve been reading about, that are critically important to remember when “real” labor comes.
This morning I just happened to be in Philippians 4 in my Bible reading. Paul writes:
What you have learned and received and heard and seen in me–PRACTICE these things, and the God of peace will be with you (4:9).
Do we take this seriously? That we need to PRACTICE patience, PRACTICE joy, PRACTICE steadfastness, PRACTICE kindness.
Just as slow-breathing and relaxation does not automatically happen when seized with a contraction, so virtue does not automatically happen when seized with life’s inevitable sorrows.
We must practice. How?
Philippians 4 tells us:
Rejoice in the Lord ALWAYS, again I will say, REJOICE…do not be anxious about ANYTHING, but in EVERYTHING by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving, let your requests be made known to God. And the peace of God which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus. Finally, brothers and sisters, whatever is honorable, whatever is JUST, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is commendable, if there is anything worthy of praise, THINK ABOUT THESE THINGS.” (V. 4-8)
It’s a discipline of the mind. It’s a choice. Yesterday it was so good to get over myself and get busy loving others, doing some specific things to serve my mom, making a big delicious dinner for my family and parents, intentionally reading what Dutch is reading so I can enter his world more fully and discuss what’s on his mind.
And while this is always helpful, I realized this morning a significant key to it all. It seems obvious, but sometimes pregnancy-brain can make us a bit cray-cray. The truth is: Justice IS coming. I’m not going to be pregnant forever. It might still be a ways off, but Justice is coming.
The certainty frees me up to wait joyfully.
The same is true for you, friend. And ALL who wait and ache and long. I do not mean to trivialize true suffering by comparing it to pregnancy, please hear my heart, BUT it is true that for all who ache for justice, for healing, for all that is busted up and broken and just plain WRONG in this world … there is hope in the waiting, there is JOY in the waiting. Why?
Because Justice IS coming. Guaranteed.
The certainty frees us up to wait joyfully.
From the smallest trial to the most significant: Like the faithful martyrs in Revelation 6:10 who
“cried out with a loud voice, “O Sovereign Lord, holy and true, how long before you will judge and avenge our blood on those who dwell on the earth?”
They wait for justice.
And it will come.
Honestly, the hardest part of yesterday wasn’t not having a baby, it was sitting with my mom and seeing the effects of the most cruel and merciless disease that has stolen so much of her life. It was feeling my heart break all over again, sitting there feeling hopeless seeing how virtually everything has been stripped away from her. It was seeing her struggle to speak, this woman who has one of the greatest minds I’ve ever known. It was that righteous anger that THIS was not how God created her to be. It was longing for the time when all things will be made new and JUSTICE will be served and everything evil will be undone.
Justice will come.
The certainty frees us up to wait joyfully.
Friends, I don’t know what significant suffering you are facing. I don’t know what wrong has been done that you ache to see made right. But whatever it is, I know God’s Word is true and sure. It is certain. And I pray you know the joy of this hope, even as you wait. Justice IS coming.
{Thanks for reading.}
When you feel like all your work was wasted…
“Well that was a waste,” I thought to myself when I woke up, blurry-eyed, exhausted, after realizing that the seven hours of contractions from the night before had produced … nothing. There was most assuredly still a baby inside my belly.
It was early, the 4th of July, and the night before I’d been up from 9pm-4am with intense contractions. Real ones. I’d been a bit confused, as they came every ten minutes, and never got closer together, never progressed like normal labor. What was this?
Well, of course many of you are probably smiling because you’re familiar with this phenomenon called ‘prodromal labor’ — I looked it up and “prodromal” comes from the Latin meaning, “A torturous teasing process where overtired and enormously pregnant women are kept awake all night in labor, with nothing produced from the process.”
Or something like that.
Actually I was encouraged to read up on it and realize it’s rather common. Reading dozens of comments from similar-situations made me sigh with relief, “So this is a thing!”
Of course pretty much every comment was basically a lament about how horrible this process was. Of a continual labor that produces nothing.
Of wasted work.
But there was a common thread among every woman who’d had this experience in the past–her actual labor was markedly shorter.
Aha, I thought to myself, it’s not all for naught.
Of course there are no guarantees, but it was definitely a consistent theme, and yet, the lamenting continued.
And of course I don’t know how this will all shake out–but I couldn’t help but think about this process of bringing life into the world, and how unique it is and yet not unique it is because it’s a picture of all our labors for the Lord, in one way or another.
Our Creator created physical processes as pictures of spiritual processes. This whole world is a glorious illustration, if we have eyes to see.
Did I?
While I woke sorely disappointed that first night, I found that the next time it happened, I didn’t experience the same frustration. Sure, the outdated term is “false labor” but there’s nothing false about joyfully, patiently enduring toil that is for the sake of a greater good.
That’s true life.
So the next time it happened, I grabbed my earbuds, swiped to my favorite worship playlist, and settled into several hours of lifting up praise to our good God. In the quiet, in the dark, paced by 10-minute contraction intervals, I was able to interact with my Father in sweet worship and prayer.
That’s no waste.
And then the next time it happened, I’m not kidding when I say I actually looked forward to it. I thought maybe it was the “real” thing, but when the contractions didn’t get closer together I knew it was just another round of practice. Another opportunity to remind myself, “Nothing’s wasted.” Every contraction, though it feels futile, is doing something. I’m learning. I’m growing.
And it’s preparing my body for the good work ahead … of bringing Justice into this world.
You’re doing it too, you know. Bringing Justice into this world. Every follower of Jesus is. We bring His Kingdom forth when we partner with Him, when we become co-laborers with Christ, yoked to Him, and we work to bring His truth, holiness, righteousness, justice, and love into this world.
Sometimes, doesn’t it seem like we wear ourselves plum out thinking some great work is being done, only to wake up the next morning and discover, in a sense, that the baby isn’t yet born? We’re plagued by a nagging sense of doubt:
Is any of this worth it?
Is this work a waste of time?
In the morning, every morning, I look at my fridge before pulling out the cream for my coffee, and there on that fridge reads one of my favorite verses:
Be steadfast, immovable, always abounding in the work of the Lord, knowing that in the Lord, your labor is not in vain.” (1 Cor. 15:58)
Not. In. Vain.
Do you believe that, friend? That if we even give a cup of cold water to someone (bedtime with small children, anyone?!) in the name of Jesus, because we belong to Him, we will certainly not lose our reward (Mark 9:41).
The smallest acts. The simplest kindness. The most hidden obedience.
The middle-of-the-night labor that brings no baby.
Do we believe? It takes faith to keep joyfully engaging in labor that seems to not produce any results.
In whatever way you are tempted to give up, give in, quit, lament, because it just feels like your work is wasted.
Please don’t. Before we know it, Justice will come.
{Thank you for reading.}
10 Thoughts on the Declaration of Independence
It’s the 4th of July and you know what that means! Wait, do we know what that means?
Of course, it means barbecues, parades, rodeos, and fireworks. Duh!
But what does it really mean? Yes, we know it is Independence Day, but what does that mean?
A couple weeks ago Jeff got up in the middle of the night to discover his wife, sitting in a rocking chair, reading the Declaration of Independence.
Pregnancy makes us do crazy things.
Actually, for the last couple months I’ve been endeavoring to grow as a teacher, going through a self-paced process recommended by some folks from Leadership Education. First, you simply immerse yourself in the classics processing what you learn. Then, you’re instructed to read The Declaration of Independence, looking up any words or ideas that are unclear, and then write about 10 ideas that strike you as interesting, and discuss those with two other people.
Hence my midnight reading materials.
It just so happened that this was right before the 4th of July, so it was the perfect opportunity to discuss this document with our kids. So, last night, over dinner, Jeff and I jumped in, and we enjoyed a spirited conversation about life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.
Though I had no intention of this being a blog post, I thought I’d share it here, because it really was a worthwhile discussion as a family. So often we observe or celebrate the current cultural expression of a holiday, rather than taking the time to learn about the event itself. So, in case you want a quick brush-up on what this day is all about, consider a quick read of The Declaration of Independence, which was formally adopted by the Continental Congress 242 years ago today.
Here are the 10 things I found most interesting:
- “Self-evident: That all men are created equal”: Humans have been created. A Divine, intelligent Creator has fashioned and formed each and every human being on the planet, and has bestowed WORTH on them. This worth is not based on their IQ, appearance, or geographic location. They may grow to become more or less valuable to society, based on whether they are virtuous contributors or wicked destroyers, but at their core, each one has been created equally, with worth each equivalent to another. This means the unborn baby with downs syndrome, the handicapped child, the elderly, the deaf or blind, that all have equal value.
- “Endowed by their Creator”: This worth is given to them by God. God IS the Creator. Without recognition of the Creator, a higher Creative Intelligent power that endows us with worth, we are left to our own estimations of worth and value. We make ourselves God. This worth, this equality, cannot be taken because it has been endowed not by man, but by God.
- “Unalienable”: Like a birthright, this worth, this equality is something that cannot be bought or sold, stolen or confiscated. These rights cannot be taken away or denied.
- “Right to Life”: The most basic human right is the right to live. After recognizing a Divine Creator, who alone endows worth and value and rights, it only follows that we yield to that Creator and recognize that that which He gives life to, we have no right to extinguish. Just as I have no right to enter another man’s property and burn down his house, because it does not belong to me, I have no right to take away the life of someone who belongs to God, our Creator.
- “Right to Liberty”: Nowadays, we use the word freedom more than liberty, but they are the same thing. Throughout the gospels, we read that Christ came to set free the captives. For freedom Christ has set us free. The Creator, in fact, chose, as the distinguishing characteristic of his Creation—FREE WILL. Without free will, true love, obedience, intimacy, courage, none of these things could be. Without freedom there is no opportunity for virtue. Coercion cannot produce true fruitfulness and godliness and virtue. Only by allowing free will, that is liberty, are we given the most precious opportunity of all: To choose Christ, to choose love, to choose obedience, to choose virtue, to choose good, to choose what is right.
- “Right to the Pursuit of Happiness”: This, of course, is the least clear of the unalienable rights. What is “happiness” – I suppose it is the pursuit of peace, stability, comfort, security, the pursuit of non-enmity with God and others. Bibically speaking, It is Shalom. And since it is the right of all, then our own right to pursue happiness extends only so far as that it does not impede someone else’s pursuit of happiness. That is, in order for this “right” to be effective, we have to think collectively, recognizing that some “happiness” may lead to another’s harm, so the obligation of a society is to pursue those happy ends which mean happiness for all, as much as possible not causing the harm of others in that pursuit.
- “Governments are instituted to secure these rights”: This is the purpose of government: To secure and protect the unalienable rights of the governed. That LIFE is first and foremost to be protected. That FREEDOM is then to be protected. And that we protect the people’s right to pursue happiness, within the confines of what contributes to the happiness of others as well. In other words, the government’s power is FROM the people and FOR the people.
- “Safety and Happiness”: The form of government shall be determined based on what will best provide, by the consent of the people, Safety and Happiness. In short, what will allow the governed people to thrive. To be kept alive, safe, and free. Happiness cannot thrive where life is not secured, happiness cannot thrive where constant threat is present. Happiness best thrives where basic needs are met and relative security and safety is ensured.
- “Appealing to the Supreme Judge of the world”: Yes! How wise to recognize that there is One Judge, ultimately. That all efforts and wars and revolutions must bow the knee to this One Judge and recognize that all authority and power comes from Him, and He is ultimately the only One who can judge right and wrong. All true justice comes from Him.
- “With a firm reliance on the protection of Divine Providence”: Far from being a declaration of their independence from God, this document is an affirmation of their dependence on God. They use the word “reliance” rather than “dependence” but it is the same idea. They recognized that ultimately their protection, favor, and justice would come from God alone, the Creator who had given them equality and worth, so they reaffirmed this reliance even as they made a stand against Great Britain. As I read this document, I do not detect a spirit of arrogance or superiority, but one of reasonable evidence and a humble recognition that God is the ultimate Judge and Protector.
How about you? What strikes you about this document? Happy fourth of July and thanks for reading!
PS 39-weeks today! Justice is coming! I welcome prayers for a smooth and blessed delivery!
Learning to Listen
“If one gives an answer before he hears, it is his folly and shame.” —Proverbs 18:13
This last week, I was so grateful for good doctors, midwives actually, who listen. Every time I go to my prenatal appointment, they sit, patiently and attentively, and listen. They ask questions, take notes, and make every effort to understand. Only then do they dispense diagnoses, prescriptions, or advice. Then at the end of each appointment, they always ask, “Do you have any questions at all? Is there anything else you wanted to talk about today?” I always leave feeling heard, understood, and cared for. I’m so grateful!
The Proverb above is one of the most oft-repeated in our home. Since Dutch was little, it’s been a go-to reminder that an over-eagerness to respond, answer, jump to conclusions, or advise, without listening first is a folly and shame.
Recently I was on my way to meet with someone, and on the way there I was considering what to pray for. It struck me afresh, what I really needed was understanding. “Lord, help me to really listen and really understand.” What I need, always, is the ability to actually understand where someone is coming from. Indeed, isn’t it the most frustrating feeling to have someone jump in, cut you off, finish your sentences (off-base), or brush off your words, thinking they already understand what you mean or feel?
Maybe it’s just me, but it can be a frustrating feeling. And I know I do it. I remember years ago reading a great book on how the importance of leaders learning to be good listeners. They nailed it when the authors explained that the goal is not to “be a good listener,” the goal is to understand others.
While it might seem like splitting hairs, one goal is self-focused, it’s centered on self, and as long as we’re centered on self, we’ll never learn to truly understand, empathize, and wisely counsel others. But if we can forget about our blessed selves, and not care whether or not we are a “good listener” but instead get busy putting all our effort into seeking understanding, we are well on our way to being a good spouse, counselor, confidant, and friend.
Recently, I had the privilege of listening in while several of Jeff’s friends affirmed him. He has some pretty amazing friends, so it was quite an experience, and I found myself wanting to say, “Yeah! What they said! I think that too I just can’t articulate it that well!” But the essence of what they were saying, which is remarkably high praise, was that Jeff actually listens and cares. He wants things for you, not just from you. He doesn’t dispense life-advice, assuming he knows what you need, he takes the time to hear, and, whenever possible, understand. I can attest—he does indeed do this well.
And I want to grow in it too. Just as it would be preposterous for you to walk into a doctor’s office, and before you said a word the doctor was already writing out a prescription, so it is equally inappropriate when we assume we know what other people need, or feel, without taking the time to truly hear them. To listen, and, Lord willing, to understand. Of course, to understand isn’t to agree; this practice certainly doesn’t mean we affirm every thought, habit, feeling, or behavior, but how much more effective is exhortation (and correction) when it has come slowly, only after thorough listening, caring, hearing.
The same principle can be applied to current events, politics, news, how we view the world. How often we jump to conclusions on some issue based on a headline, a Facebook post, a tweet. What if we were slower to take a hard stance, until we really did our due diligence to listen to the matter, to take the stance of a humble learner, rather than an already-expert.
Of course that’s just it, right? Listening takes humility. It takes humility to suspend judgment, to hear, to learn, to seek to understand. It’s so much quicker and easier to assume! But how blessed would be our marriages, friendships, churches, communities, if we all heeded this one simple Proverb: “If one gives an answer before he hears, it is his folly and shame.”
{Endeavoring to grow in this, with you. Thanks for reading.}
F O R T Y
I remember, so clearly, being about 8 years old, and attending the 40th birthday party of our friend and pastor, Paul Hunter. All the balloons were black with “Over the Hill” printed on them. It was a great party, but I remember asking my mom, “What does ‘over the hill’ mean?” She explained, something about being done with the first half of your life, and my little mind filled in the rest. That means…
…the rest is downhill?
Yes, I was a sensitive child, but this distinctly bothered me. My own dad was several years older than Paul. Did this mean he was already on a steep descent? How could this be?
My, how things have changed. At least, in my perspective. Forty is young! True, I never dreamed that we’d celebrate Jeff’s 40th birthday today by anticipating the imminent birth of our baby (!), but I dare say there is nothing downhill about this man. He’s a climber, a fighter, a victor. No matter what physical strength comes and goes, his spirit is full of vim and vigor.
I have been struck this past year by this simple realization:
What the world values will decrease with age.
What God values can increase with age.
Charisma will wane. Stuff starts to sag. Jeff won’t always be the fastest guy in the race. I dare say my most beautiful days have long gone by.
But Jeff, my love, you are most definitely a more godly, wise, humble, courageous, selfless, faithful, and admirable man than you were 15 years ago when I pledged my life to be your wife.
But here’s the thing, and this is what makes me admire you the most:
This growth of godliness-with-age does not happen automatically.
Youthful foolishness, left unchecked, simply snowballs into aged foolishness.
It takes true strength not to become “set in one’s ways” but to grow in grace, humility, teachability, wisdom. It’s a trajectory of Christlikeness that will only increase with age.
Jeff, I see this trajectory in you.
Here you are: As I type these words I am sick in bed, sad and frustrated that I’m too sick to do much to celebrate your birthday. Most of our weekend plans have fallen through. I’m enormously pregnant, with a list of ailments as long as my leg and wishing I was a more fun wife for you right now. Not only that, but you are still recovering from a concussion! But instead of looking inward, you have selflessly, joyfully, and tirelessly served me. As we speak you are outside scrubbing the patio furniture because you know it would bless me. You are BBQing your own birthday dinner because I’m curled up on the couch. You are offering to attend to the ginormous rat that Dutch and his friend caught, but goodness knows I want nothing to do with it. You are keeping the kids outside so it can be quiet in here. And you are periodically checking on me, to see if I’m ok.
What man does that?
You. Because that’s what Jesus could probably have done, and every day you are growing more and more into his likeness.
It’s bittersweet today, I know. It’s not only your 40th birthday, it’s Father’s Day.
And it’s your first Father’s Day without your father.
And you are preaching and leading a church and a family today and recognizing milestones and preparing for a new baby and grieving the loss of your beloved dad. And just like that Little House episode we watched this week…we honor those we have lost by living in such a way that they would be proud.
I dare say you are doing just that. Your dad was always proud of you, and you continue to live in a way that would make him prouder than ever:
A wise son makes a glad father (Prov. 15:20).
He’d be gladder than ever to see you today.
And so, my love: Happy 40th birthday.
{May we all grow in wisdom, and make our Heavenly Father glad. Thanks for reading.}
When you feel like growling at God…
We were caught off guard the first time it happened. Our sweet, happy, laid back, never-barked-before dog lunged forward and growled at the little girl slowly approaching. Say what?!
She must have just been caught off guard, we thought. Give it time.
But it got worse. For the first week she was here, she was an angel. Happy to see everyone. Never barked. Absolutely fell in love with Heidi and adoringly followed her everywhere she went. I was so thrilled for her. After 18-mos of hoping and praying for a dog, Heidi had a newfound confidence, happily trotting off into the woods on her own, exploring, adventuring, happily sitting on the deck for hours, reading a book curled up next to her new furry best friend. Everything seemed perfect.
Then the growling increased. Not at us. Never at us. But at strangers. A couple days later she was downright snarling at any little unsuspecting visitors. But then when it was just our family she was her docile, sweet self, rolling on her back gleefully while Heidi snuggled up beside her. I figured it would get better, but then … a dear friend came by and in a split second, before we knew what was happening, she bit their poor little girl.
We were horrified. My friend was so gracious, but needless to say we were all upset, the poor little girl was terrified, and as soon as they left Heidi and I started sobbing. I knew what this meant—her new best friend could not stay. Our home has to be safe for visitors of all ages. Her answer to prayer was unraveling right before our eyes.
Now, I get that sometimes our emotional response seems extreme. But just the day before Jeff had been hit by a truck while riding his bike, so we were already dealing with a concussion, recovery, and some emotional upheaval, I’ve had insomnia so I hadn’t slept well in weeks, and I’m 8-mos pregnant (hello hormones!) … it was just the perfect storm. Heidi and I curled up together on the couch and cried.
And silently, I started growling at God.
I mean growling. See, my girl is something precious to me. She’s got faith like nobody’s business and she prays like she believes because she does. As long as she’s been able to clasp her hands together that girl has prayed for healing for her grandma.
And it hasn’t happened. Day after day, year after year she has prayed. And more times than I can count she has cried to me, late at night, “Why doesn’t God answer?!”
Oh sweet girl, I don’t know.
She prayed fervently for a little sibling, then was devastated by both miscarriages. (Thank you, Father for Justice! We believe he is coming!)
She prayed fervently for a pet, and in the meantime lost 3 cats, and now has adopted (and adored) two different dogs only to lose them both.
I know in the grand scheme these are small things, but it just felt like too much for her poor little heart. Especially considering we’ve also had four family deaths in the last two years. It just felt like every time we turned around someone or something was lost. It’s easier to not have something than to have it and lose it, again and again and again.
“Why?! God, why are you set on crushing her heart?! It feels like you are dead-set on destroying all trace of faith she has! Why are you doing this to her?! First my mom. Then the babies. Then the cats. Now the dogs. Why are you breaking her heart?!”
Silently, I growled.
I clutched my girl in my arms, wiping her tears. Hers slowly subsided but mine only increased. I couldn’t stop it, I was just overwhelmed with loyalty to her, wanting her happy, wanting an answer to prayer for her, so desperately wanting her to have something she prayed for.
I wrapped my arms around her, instinctively, protectively, guarding her…
Guarding her?
From what?
From … God?
I’d say guarding her from disappointment, from pain, from sorrow, from loss.
But could I be over-guarding her? So much so that I was actually growling at and guarding her from God?
A good friend texted, suggesting that I research the breed of dog and see if aggression was common.
Turns out, they are super happy, kid-friendly dogs…but over time, when they have a beloved owner they can become so loyal they’re over-protective, to the point of extreme aggression toward any perceived threat.
Loyal and over-protective? Extreme aggression toward any perceived threat?
Was I reading about Australian Shepherds or … me?
I had just been reading a book about raising daughters, and grappling with the reality of allowing God full access to my girl, even if it meant pain.
What’s interesting is: these dogs only act fierce “when they perceive themselves as ‘top dog’—that is, when they think it is their responsibility to guard and protect their owner.”
Do I think of myself as “top dog” around here? Do I really think it is up to me to guard my daughter from all perceived threats? Do I think I’m that important? That capable?
Do I think I’m God?
I opened my Bible. Psalm 33:20-21 was underlined from this morning’s reading,
“Our soul waits for the LORD; for He is our help and our shield. For our heart is glad in Him, because we trust in His holy name.”
Do I believe HE is our shield? Do I trust His holy name? Or do I think I am the help? That I am the shield?
I turned the page:
“The LORD is near to the brokenhearted and saves the crushed in spirit” (Ps. 34:18).
I want to guard my daughter from many things, but not from nearness to God. I do not wish broken-heartedness on her, on anyone, but I know that He loves her more than I can comprehend, and is working all things for her good, better than I could ever hope to. I have to believe this. He is top dog, and He will do the guarding. That is not my job. I am to pray, to guide, to counsel, and then … to trust.
To believe what I say, right here in this book, about disappointment. That God works it all, in the end, for glorious fulfillment.
I never, ever, ever, want to guard her from that.
{On the twisty, windy journey of faith with you. Thanks for reading.}
*BTW: We are all fine. Heidi’s furry buddy went back to his previous owners, and she handled it like a champ. I cried more than her! She actually wrote me a bday card saying, “We are all sorry to see Grizzly leave, but I’m sure she’ll be happy wherever she is…thank you for all the love and support you’ve given me. God has a plan!” And last night she told me, “Now remember, Mommy, no more tears!” Haha, 9-years-old and she’s basically discipling me these days. 😉 Jeff is recovering well, we have much to be grateful for.
—
*LAST day (Sun) to get Sacred Mundane ebook for $1.99. Paper copies available here: https://squareup.com/store/sacred-mundane