The Blessing Test {PODCAST}
Whether they meant it or not, you feel slapped. There’s a sting. The truth is, we unknowingly slap each other all the time, especially during times of disagreement and tension (anybody know any times like those happening these days?). What does turning the cheek really mean? Refusing cancel culture. It means staying close. Turning the cheek means a willingness to stay close enough that your other cheek is vulnerable. You might get stung again, but that’s ok because you’re choosing to bless. I have been the recipient of this blessing, even this week, and I urge you to please listen in and consider the implications of this in your own life. Don’t underestimate the power of blessing. We need it more than ever. Read More
Like sparks from the fire
Hello dear friends, it’s good to be in this special, sacred space again! I’m Caila, an old college pal of Kari’s: partner in shenanigans, fellow blond, and another mom who loves to chat about the Sacred Mundane. You can visit my blog, CailaMade, to learn more about me and my adventures in sewing and other creative pursuits. I’ll be here at SM all week while Kari is traveling. We are going to have fun!
Now, where to start? I could tell about the time I first heard Kari mention the words, “Sacred Mundane” (I was a senior in college), or the time we got stuck on the East Cost after 9-11 and had to sleep on airport floors and share packs of underwear from Walmart because our luggage was locked in the plane. Or, I could tell about college women’s retreats where we would study the Bible but not shower for days on end. Kinda gross, eh? It was fun!
Years have passed since those college days and the troubles we faced when we were young and inexperienced. Those troubles seem so small in retrospect, but they were significant then. My shopping addiction (embarrassing, but true), Kari’s unrequited love for Jeff Patterson that turned out not to be so unrequited after all. Huge worries that kept us up all night, and kept us on our knees, as we begged God to make our paths straight and clear.
Now that I’m a mother of three, a wife, and a homemaker in our a small, blue bungalow in Southern California, I can’t help but look back at little college Caila and shake my head fondly. She didn’t understand what great troubles and great joys were coming her way. In a thousand answered prayers I’ve seen a thousand ways I need to grow in strength and perseverance to honor God with this life he has given me.
As my life grows and expands, I’ve noticed that joy and trouble seem to come hand in hand. More children = more joy = more trouble. Becoming new home owners = more joy = more trouble. Bringing home a new Golden Retriever puppy (her name is Athena) = more joy = more trouble.
Yeah, it’s true. With every new and good thing, comes more responsibility. It’s a heavy load to bear sometimes.
But that’s life, isn’t it? The good and the bad. The beauty and the trouble. It reminds me of this great moment from the Princess Bride between Westley (when he’s disguised as the Dread Pirate Roberts )and Buttercup:
Buttercup: You mock my pain!
Westley: Life IS pain, highness. Anyone who says differently is selling something.
It’s true. As much as I wish it wasn’t, trouble and pain are just part of the deal. Whenever I feel depressed because things are harder than I expected I remember this verse from the book of Job, chapter 5 verse 7:
“But man is born to trouble, as the sparks fly upward.”
As the sparks fly upward. In other words, trouble is to mankind like physics is to nature. It’s a law that life must follow. Trouble is as natural as joy.
Maybe wishing things were easier is part of the problem.
Perhaps, my daily struggles as a mom are compounded by expecting things to be so much easier. Maybe some things are just hard, and with time I will get strong enough to carry them more easily, but in the mean time there is nothing wrong with hard. Hard prepares you for what’s ahead. Hard means you’ll be stronger for the next load.
I’ve spent too much of my life waiting for easier. Easier ain’t coming. Easier doesn’t exist. She’s like that model on the cover of a magazine, airbrushed to perfection. She’s not the real deal. Easy has no place in my home, because “easy” doesn’t grow trust, or love, of faithful perseverance. Easy grows laziness, and believe me, there’s no room for lazy in my life.
So I guess what I’m trying to say, mommas, is this: Don’t be too discouraged when it’s hard. I know how it feels when the baby wakes up for the millionth time at night and you don’t think you can take another wakeful moment. You can. You are strong enough.
I know how it feels when your husband has to work another late night and he’s bringing home the paycheck but it feels like everything else is on you all the time. You can handle it. You are strong enough.
And do you know why you are enough? Not because you and I are perfect or extra-special. Not because we posses the secrets of the universe. No. We are strong enough because God, who is rich in mercy, has been making us strong enough since we were born.
You have been prepared for this. I have been prepared for this. And if it feels hard, that’s because it. is. hard. But it’s beautiful-hard. And beautiful-hard is better than everything that comes with easy, which is usually very little.
Be encouraged today. Keep pushing on, keep doing well, beautiful mommas. It will get better. And then maybe something else will come along to try your strength. In this life, always expect trouble with the joy. But remember that JOY will win in the end.
Bless you today!
Why brokenness is a blessing…
“Nap time, babygirl! Come here, please.” From across the room I could see her stiffen, prepare to protest. I gave her fair-warning. “Make a good choice. Will you say ‘yes’ or ‘no” to Mama?” There was no need to remind her of what a ‘no’ response would earn. She knows.
She stiffly, and slowly, walked over to me. Her mouth said yes and she made her feet move, but her face and demeanor were “no-ing” all the way. I picked her up, took her to the potty, and told her to go before her nap. She sat down, didn’t go, said she was done.
Outwardly obedient but deep-down defiant.
I took her into her room for the rest-time routine. Rock, snuggle, sleep. I pulled her up on my lap in the rocking chair, but she pushed away. Again, silent, but stiff as a board and at arm’s length. I carried her over, crawled under the quilt at her side. She lay still for a moment, then a mischievous look came across her face.
“I need go potty.” I knew it. Kids will use anything to control. To defy. I was choosing this battle and wouldn’t lose. She’s beautiful, but manipulation is not a beautiful quality when it’s all grown up. I kissed her cheek and looked her in the eye.
“No. Mommy already told you to go and you didn’t. You’re not getting back up.” She fussed again, insisted she has to go, begins to pitch a fit. I think to myself how I don’t want to change wet sheets.
But I’ll change her sheets in order to change her heart.
“No.”
Her eyes widen as she realizes it’s a lost cause. She can’t win because I won’t budge. And almost visibly, right before my eyes, I can see the cracks, then the crumble. I can see her break.
She’s broken. She sobs.
And almost in the same breath-sob she reaches both arms out, wraps them around my neck.
She clings hard, pulls me close, and cries,
“Mama, I wan’ keep you.”
She wants to keep me. These are the words she uses at night when she longs for me to linger. She squeezes me tight round the neck and holds on, says she wants to keep me. Won’t let me go.
I, of course, don’t pull away.
I draw her even closer into my arms.
She’s soft. Pliable. She rests, relaxed in my arms. I hold her, my arms all the way around her little body as she rests in her bed. Even though I’m crouched over, quads burning, I stay there, my head on the pillow next to hers, kissing her cheeks.
Within two minutes she’s sound asleep.
That’s me, I think. That’s me.
Why often do I stiffen, proud? Willing my feet and mouth to say yes to God but protesting no within my heart? Every time I choose myself, my own way, I push Him away, hold Him at arm’s length. He seeks to rock me gently, I stiffen and push Him away. He draws near to hold me. I talk to Him perhaps but my prayer is still just grasping for control. But then something jolts, cracks, crumbles.
This is how we break. This is why brokenness is a blessing.
The sacrifices of God are a broken spirit; a broken and contrite heart, O God, you will not despise. (Ps. 51:17)
Of course He won’t! Of course He never will. The same way that I hold my broken-spirit daughter, envelope her completely, engulfed in my love until she falls sweetly asleep. Until she rests in my love.
Why do we push Him away? Our pride, the God-repellent, it stiffens within us, incites us to rebellion, but we must make it bow. Must make our feet and mouths and hearts say “yes” to God.
Then, no matter how far away He feels, He will envelope us in His love and let us rest secure. And resting secure we discover the truth:
Brokenness is the only path to wholeness.
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{Remembering this from last year. Praying blessed brokenness–and wholeness–for you and me this week. Can you let go and rest in His arms? He loves you so!! Thank you for reading.}
Nothing is Harder Than Doing Your Own Thing
This morning I had the luxury of sitting at Starbucks with a hot Tazo tea and my Bible. Jeff was with the Dutcher, out for a bike ride (Dutch in his little bike seat with his blue helmet is about the cutest thing in the world), and I had the rare luxury of quiet solitude. I read Proverbs 1-9, which is basically a series of contrasts between Wisdom and Folly, both personified as women. While wisdom is “life to those who find” it and gives “health to the flesh”, the way of folly has a different end: Your honor given to another, your years to the cruel one, aliens filled with your wealth, your labors go to the house of another, you mourn at last, and your flesh and your body are consumed. But “the path of the just is like the shining sun, that shines ever brighter unto the perfect day.” (Prov. 4:18, 22; 5:9-11)
Recently I talked to someone whom I love so much. She was sharing, with honest contrite humility, about the pain and grief she experiences due to the aftermath of poor choices. It does no good to look back and say, “If only I would have…” and yet the experience preaches a more powerful sermon than we’d likely hear in church. Doing our own thing is the hardest thing in th world. Sin, disobeying God, even just casually disregarding God’s ways produces more grief, heartache, and strife than any hardship we’ll ever experience in our struggle to follow God.
This week I’ve often had to pinch myself, taking inventory of my blessings. We have a maybe maybe possibility on the horizon that is the most exciting thing I can imagine. Even considering it makes me think, “Why on earth would we of all people deserve such a thing?” And we don’t deserve it, but I feel like all week God has been quietly whispering to me, “I told you I’d bless you. Just trust me.” So many times this year, when it felt like everything was going wrong and why did God hate me and want to take away everything from me, so many times I wondered, “Is this really worth it? Is it worth surrendering to God again and trusting Him?” And of course it is, even if He never blessed me with another thing in the world, of course it is worth it. But I’m reminded again, by life and by His Word, that His path is always and will always be the path of most blessing. They may be delayed (sometimes until eternity!), or hidden (we may be have to change our perspective because blessings have no dollar value), but the blessing is there, and I am reminded all over again of the loving Father Heart of God, who delights in His children and longs to see us follow His way, for His glory and for our good.
I wish I could plead with the world to understand that God’s commands are not burdensome (1 John 5:3). I wish they could understand that when he calls us to do or not to do something, it is to protect us from grief, pain, and lingering regret. God, help us to trust in Your character, to trust that Your good, and that as a loving Father You know best. Help me, help us. We don’t want to do our thing. Help us today. Amen.