Roses and Remembering

While looking at Pinterest my eyes caught a picture of some beautiful, pink, cabbage roses. The sight nearly brought me to tears but also allowed God to speak to me. You see, I miss my rose bushes. I miss spraying roses, pruning roses, shopping for roses, picking roses, and most of all I miss having vases full of roses all over my house. When you have upwards of 100 rose bushes your springs and summers are glorious. There is never an end to the beautiful bright beauty and sweet smell that they bring. I miss getting up early and plucking off the dead blooms and bringing in freshly cut blossoms. I didn't need to wait for the blooms to look  ratty,  I had so many. It is a part of my old life that I avoid thinking about. I don't allow myself to go to Flower World anymore. I avoid walking by the roses in grocery stores and the rose plants lined up outside Fred Meyers in the spring. That is what I do. My default plan to avoid change and pain is to avoid. Thinking about life and change today I believe that is how I handle most of the pain in my life. Maybe it is what you do too. If I don't think about it, it's not real...but it is...and the reminders come. God gently shows me that I have to walk through my pain, not avoid it and pretend it isn't present and isn't real. I don't have my rose bushes anymore, and I don't have a husband that brings me flowers (rarely), or listens to me talk about my day, or gives me a man hug (they are different). But I have much. I am rich. After feeling the pain of loss I counted what I have...a house full of girls that love me, a beautiful grandson who lights up when he sees me, meaningful work to do each day, the love of my Father...and so many more. Loss is part of life. I think I may allow myself to remember more often...giving the pain as an offering to God and being grateful for what is now.

Heart Trouble

The heart is deceitful above all things, and desperately sick. Who can understand it?” Jeremiah 17:9


I have been thinking about the heart today. The above verse keeps showing up in everything I have read today and even on a couple blogs I follow. It is like I cannot get away from it. And it bugs me. That is because I have had to learn the hard way just how true it is. And it seems like I have to keep learning the hard way. The heart cannot be trusted because it is filled with the disease of sin and even with years of walking with God I am still full of my own self and sin. My heart is broken and far from where God wished it to be when He created it. But so often we fall for the falsehood and subscribe to the lie to "follow" my own heart. This feel-good statement replaces the true wisdom that searching after God brings to my lifes many questions. From choosing a career to deciding whether to stay married far too often believers and unbelievers alike choose by their feelings instead of God's Word. We end up doing what we want to do in the short term and then suffer for it in the long term. When I  want to sound righteous while I "follow" my own heart I can always say that it is "God" who is moving my heart or that I can trust my feeling because I have prayed and still "feel" this way. But when I follow my heart...when I go by how I "feel"...I become self-absorbed, shallow, fearful, vain, and I make really bad decisions. And I wallow. Because I am all about me and not about anyone else. But I need to fight against self.  Because my Jesus went to the cross and not to the spa. He did not spend His days or emotions on Himself but upon others. He did not dwell upon being offended but showered upon us His grace and mercy. And He ALWAYS did the will of His Father in heaven and did not yield to His humanity with its feelings. Whenever I have followed my heart I have ended up bruised and crushed. I have felt the pain of offense and the sting of my sinful nature. When I have followed God I am bruised and crushed as well, but it is a bruising and crushing that bears fruit instead of death. It is a bruising and crushing that comes from putting to death the flesh. And it is a crushing that comes with peace.  We have not been called to follow the lie of our hearts or the whims of our emotions. We have been called to follow Jesus.

A Lump of Clay

I often say I am fascinated by creativity. I know that each of us is creative but I am rather partial to that type of creativity that I am not. I am not an artist. I don't even hang pictures up in my house or pick colors of paint except when forced. It amazes me how we all have the same hands and brains and mouths and yet some can draw anything; others can sing with beauty; and still others can design. I can't even decide how to arrange my furniture. I love the story about how we are clay in the hands of a potter even though it is hard for me to relate to creating something beautiful and artistic. The first reason I like it is because it uses something incredibly ordinary to create beauty. Clay is simply dirt taken from the ground. In Genesis God says that we were essentially formed by dirt and in the verse about the potter God says that He is still forming us as though we are dirt. Clay also has no power at all. It is a lump of dirt waiting to be dealt with. This reminds me that God holds the power of the universe and that, no matter how much I want to be in control, I am in God's hands. Clay does not have its own plans; it has no aspirations and gives itself wholly to the artist. Clay is most pliable when mixed with water and I am at my best when I yield to the Spirit of God and when I am in fellowship with other lumps of clay. I also like that clay is most often made into something useful. I have a deep desire to be both used and useful. Clay cannot mold itself, but needs the direct contact of the potter’s hands to mold it into what he wants, and what he determines will be most useful. It is shaped by his hands. When a potter begins to make an object, he wraps his hands around the clay as it spins, and then squeezes the clay so it will begin to take shape. The same holds true of us. We are squeezed and molded until we become what He desires. And then comes the  part I would want to skip entirely. Clay must be put through the fire to be of lasting value. I have felt the fire lately; actually for a long time. I have to remember that the fire does good; that I am being worked on by a master creator. The process is painful--but good.  I ask myself, Do I trust the potter with this life I have? Do I trust Him when all is falling down and apart? Do I believe that the finished product will be worth this pain. Some days those questions are harder to answer than others.

Wednesday Thoughts

I am not sure why this week started out with me in such a foul state of mind but I decided that today had to be the end of it. I mean I guess I know why it did but I also know that I gave into the mood far too easily and I need to fight back against it. The problem is that I struggle to resolve things. Which is terrible because I get offended very easily. Thankfully if you offend me you will seldom know it. I won't tell you and I rarely will act the part. I will just hurt deep inside and be convinced that the problem is me (which is a good guess because often it is). I don't know if I am making any sense or not. Needless to say, this week started out with a convergance of badness. It was Father's Day and I missed my dad more than I had allowed myself to in years. I am still struggling with making sense out of my husband's passing. I allowed myself to be worried about all sorts of things that will never happen (most worries, statistically speaking, never do), and I managed to get offended. All of this converged on a Monday along with extreme fatigue. But today I fought back. Thankfully God sent me two of my favorite helpers to work and we played and cleaned out the refrigerators and freezer at work and I remembered that accomplishing a task makes everything feel better and young children bring me joy more than the sunshine. Hopefully...just maybe...it will last.

Father's Day

Today was Father's Day...and we didn't have any fathers...at least my girls and I didn't. And it felt harder than most years for some reason. I missed my daddy today. For so many years I would rarely allow myself to think about him. He was gone so suddenly and I was not okay with that. If I didn't think about it then I didn't feel the pain. Today was different somehow. When I went to the store yesterday I was reminded that little Elijah's dad was having his first Father's Day and that I wanted to encourage him to be a good father. One of the reasons it was so hard to lose my dad is that he was such a good father...and I am so incredibly thankful that I had a great dad.  So I got Juan a card and a small gift and I told him how glad I was that he was being a good dad. We made a plan to take him to lunch and on an outing with his son...and that was good. It was a bittersweet day...and like a lot of days I am tired and fighting off the temptation to say poor me and instead to say thank you Jesus...I can always think of what I have lost...we all can...but I know God well enough to trust He has always known what is best for me...and while I may no longer have my dad, I have my heavenly Father and that will always be more than enough.

Of Rats and Toilets and Fear

Tonight I felt done. I just wanted everyone to be saved so I could go home, my home. I have felt a little close to the edge but was managing to stay on the ledge. Sometimes it is a small thing that sends you over. And tonight that small thing happened. I went into my bathroom to brush my teeth and finish getting ready for bed. And it was then I noticed that someone had forgotten to flush the toilet. No, that was not the small thing. So I flushed it, mildly annoyed. And then I noticed that it had not flushed. So I flushed it again. And it was then I noticed. Two paws and a little head. Thankfully dead...but still staring up at me. I am deathly afraid of all things rodent. To the point of paralyzed. And I realized I am alone. (Believe me, in this situation my girls are useless). And I just wanted to give up. I felt beaten. And I know it's a small and silly thing. I went to bed and all I could think of was that I have a car that doesn't work, a broken dishwasher, and a rat in the toilet...and it's the rat that is doing me in. The rest doesn't bother me so much, but that rat. It's enough to make me want to throw it all in. I went to bed and talked to Jesus and remembered a song I learned when I was a young Christian. Part of it goes like this, "One day in your presence is far better to me than gold or to live my whole life somewhere else. And I would rather be a doorkeeper in your house, than to take my fate upon myself. You are my sun and my shield. You're my lover from the start. And the highway to your city runs through my heart."....I still have a rat in my toilet and will until I find someone to take pity on me. And I had to get up. Because when I shut my eyes all I see are rats. So I wrote you this story so you can all laugh at me. But I am comforting myself by remembering that I don't mind spiders and snakes. And I am ready to meet Jesus any time. And there are no rats in heaven. 

A Life Interruption

There are unexpected moments in your life that you wish you could freeze. Moments that teach you that it is good for your heart to be broken and your life to be interrupted. I had a moment this week. A young girl, about the age of my youngest came into the office wanting some help. I had served her dinner the night before at church and for whatever reason I felt a connection to her. She is estranged from her parents, out of money, out of a home, and living on the streets. I know only the part of her story that she gave me, and I know there is probably much more to it than what she did tell me, but that didn't matter. My mama heart wanted to rescue her in that moment. I would have gladly given everything I had in that moment if I could have helped her, really helped her. In that moment I wanted to have a big house or apartment building where I could just love on hurting people and show them that there is a God who loves them and who is a giver of life and hope. But I didn't have any of that. We helped her. And I listened to her and cried with her and hugged her. I gave her my number and told her I would feed her or talk to her anytime. I  told her that I would love for her to come to church and that it would be a safe place where she would be loved. And as she left it felt like I gave her nothing. I felt such grief. It's not like I haven't been asked for help before or heard sad stories before. I have. But this one broke my heart. Probably because she is so young. Probably because I thought about how this girl is just one of so many, so young, who already live such hard lives. Probably because for one of the first times I felt like I don't do very much to make a difference for those who need it most. And I feel so powerless. I don't switch gears very easily; my heart still hurts and I am praying for this lost one. I haven't told my girls about this because it hurts and I know it won't be the same for them as it is me. But they keep asking me if something is wrong.  I am praying that a part of this feeling stays with me. It is good for a heart to be broken with the things that break the heart of God. It is good to feel powerless and cry out to God for the things you cannot fix. I don't think we were created to live "normal" lives. We were made to glorify our creator and serve Him. And she is one of His lost ones. And I want that to matter...at least to me.